It was a rendezvous in the middle of the bush, in the heart of darkness and at the peak of a dry season. When the sun was about to finish its journey down the peak of the mountain, men and women were busy making the groups of girls and boys eligible for Poro and Sande. They separated us into two groups: girls and boys. I was able to recall them taking my cousin into the bush a few years ago. At return, he did not want to tell me anything even though I repeatedly asked what he did in the bush.
‘It’s a sin if I disclose what happened; secret should remain a secret!’ He commanded with a proud tone, yet a feeling of fear was visible underneath. After that, my interest and the curiosity vanquished in time. Like air bubbles coming out irrespective of the depth where the fish was in waters when my father told me about sending me to the bush to make me a man, everything I wanted to ask from my cousin popped up fresh.
‘This is my turn.’ I thought. Nonetheless, I could not imagine a ritual without pain, transformation, and shock in life. I witnessed the boys keeping their wraps lifted and screaming when they were peeing. Some of them fell sick over and over again, but it was very seldom that one would die.
‘Let`s go!’ The man who was dressed in ritualistic costumes rather ordered than asked us to follow him. His very first words hinted me that we were going to have a regimented time. We walked along the pathway till we reached the thick bush. Then we had to walk paving our way deep into the bush in quasi-isolation. Despite the warning sounds that the monkeys made to signal the human presence or in other words the threat of strangers in the wild or a bird that called its partner, a mysterious silence was dominating in the unknown world hidden under the evergreen canopy.
After almost half a day walk, we reached an enclosure built on an open plain in the middle of nowhere, separated into segments by mats made out of palm leaves and roofed only by the overhanging trees that were just like a sunshade.
An old man in a prestigious yet a bit strange attire looking like a smiling devil came out of one of the temporary huts near the enclosure. His steps were rhythmic, and the look was majestic. He moved a few steps towards the boys and stopped. The man who led us there rushed towards the old man and muttered something with a gesture of loyalty. Without my knowledge, my mind was rather preoccupied in trying to understand the deal that they were discussing in secret than thinking of what would be in the store of future for me in the thick jungle. ‘Secret should remain a secret!’ I had heard many times. ‘This should be one of them,’ I thought.
Suddenly, the rugged voice of the old man disrupted the infinite pensiveness I was drowned in.
‘You all have come here for the most important thing in your life,’ he started his first words in a bossy and a pretentious way.
I could not but keep looking at his attire which was full of many things including dead animals, animal parts, strew and much more. He acted royal and powerful as if he possessed the great might of the Creator.
‘You will go back as perfect men at the end of the period, and you will know what men should not repeat with others,’ his tone became gradually intense and firm. Despite his old age, he looked very determined and powerful.
‘The men are not just born; the real men are made with learnt skills. They are filled with blood full of perseverance, thoughts full of courage, minds full of consciousness, muscles full of strength, eyes full of foresight, ears full of vigilance and mouth with a fence of teeth that does not allow secrets to come out. Boys are reborn into men here.’ He continued and started moving towards us with heavy steps while maintaining an open eye contact with everyone gathered in the enclosure.
‘You all will have heavier heads and responsible minds now on,’ he groaned.
I looked at the boy who was next to me. He was one of my playmates. He looked utterly confused yet kept on looking at the old man as if he was spell-bound. I hit his hand slightly to get his attention. He did not move his head. As the old man kept walking towards me, I pretended to be paying full attention to him. With each step he took towards me, I started to hear my heartbeat increasingly louder.
‘You are still a child.’ He stopped opposite me.
‘You have a loose tongue, playful mouth and a sack that gathers dirt.’
I looked at his shining eyes.
‘I will bind your tongue, fence your mouth and cut your sack. Then you will be hard and clean to be a man.’ His words pumped adrenaline into my blood.
I was literary frozen out of fear. I felt a sharp pain along my spine.
‘Time we are going to spend here won’t be easy,’ I muttered without my knowledge.
After a long lecture which was more like a set of rules, we were told that we would be trained in life skills required for almost every single function in life in the tribe as well as very important things that no one should ever share with anyone else.
‘You will never open your mouth,’ his words were firm.
‘I will fence it.’
The old man constantly maintained the fear and authority among the crowd of boys.
‘Come one by one,’ he called the boys one after the other and had a short chat with everyone.
‘Your name?’ He asked.
‘Tamba,’ I said in an involuntarily loyal voice.
‘You the second boy of your family,’ he was sure.
‘No,’ I replied.
‘Your brother died?’
‘Yes, he was hot like fire and then died.’
‘Mosquitos?’
‘No, Rats.’
‘Your father needs you for his last day.’ He looked into my eyes.
‘Here on, you are Kuju, which is your Poro name-secret name.’
‘Kuju,’ I said.
‘Kuju,’ he repeated in a low voice.
‘You are with the first group, group of leopard,’ he added showing me one of the small groups he had formed with the boys who had come before me.
He called the next boy as I joined the group of five boys among whom no one was known to me.
When the liturgies winded up, the sun was almost sinking behind the ghostly tree tops. The man who led us to the bush came with a few pieces of dry wood and dry leaves and put them before us. Then, the old man appeared.
‘Who among you knows how to make fire?’
I had tried many times successfully with my father, but I did not want to tell him that. I felt it was a fear of some kind which did not allow me to talk. I felt some strangeness of everything I heard and saw.
‘I can,’ one boy lifted his hand.
‘Come and show us,’ the man ordered.
A boy came with hesitant steps as if he was not sure whether he would be able to make it.
Two men were observing him; his steps, his movements, his expressions, and gestures. The boy took two stones and started rubbing and hitting. Every time he hit the stones together, a fire sparked, but he was unable to light a fire. He kept on trying in vain for some time and then the old man came to the middle again.
‘Fire is one of the first things that the Creator gifted to man. Without fire, the human is just like an animal. We are weak without fire. We become powerful with fire. As a man, you have to know not only to make fire, but also to use it correctly.’
The man took the pieces of stones and started rubbing together constantly for some time. Then he took some dry leaves and put them between the stones. Then he started blowing air from his mouth. Next moment the leaves caught fire. Everyone started cheering him.
‘That was one way; There are many other ways,’ he added with a bossy tone.
He took two pieces of dry wood and started rubbing them together till a light smoke started to come out.
‘This is another way,’ he showed us the two pieces of wood that were burning.
While the fireplace was being set up, another man appeared behind the enclosure.
‘I need help,’ he told the other man while the old man was still among the young boys talking about different subjects.
Two men, who had just left, returned with a wild-boar which seemed to have just been killed. Blood was still oozing around its neck.
‘Not a single fly could sit on this yet,’ the man who asked for help said.
‘I see,’ the old man said with a smile.
After the wild boar was placed in the centre near the fireplace, we were asked to clean it. And then, the men gave us a briefing on how to make roasted meat for human consumption.
‘Before a piece goes into our mouth, the evil spirits have to be fed,’ the old man said in a serious tone.
‘They can cause you illness in case they are not fairly fed,’ the other man added.
‘Keep the head for the demons, organs for those who were unable to cross the bridge to the world of ancestors and some good flesh for the ancestors. The eyes should be removed and kept to be sent to the Creator. No one has the right to eat it.’ The old man astonished me with his customary knowledge. It was the time I realised that there were detailed customs in every single daily activity which were beyond mere rituals. They were more of ethics and codes of traditional tribal societies. Besides that, they had strong scientific veracities.
‘Collect all the coal and keep it aside!’ It was old man`s voice again. He told that the coal of burnt wood should be kept for using as a water purifier and medicine for running stomach and sometimes to treat wounds.
We had sessions every single day until late night, and every morning we got up before the Pepper bird sang. We were taught to be more sensitive to the behaviours of animals that were the messengers of the Creator.
‘When the first giant-bat starts beating its wings, you’ve got to return to your hut. If you ignore it, the Leopard will take care of your flesh,’ said another old man, who was also a healer. Poro was full of exciting activities which contained a lot of new learnings. After a few weeks, we were quite used to the bush, and we left the enclosure early morning for hunting, survival activities and many more practical sessions and did not forget to return on time.
The old man, who first welcomed us, left the place for a while.
‘I will come back at the most important time.’
Another strong young man joined the team and taught us bush fight.
‘Every animal has their inborn fighting style, inborn weapons. We have to know them by heart, but their size does not matter.’ That was my favourite quote during the whole Poro.
One day, we went hunting, and one of the team members was hit by a snake. He did not see the serpent, but his leg was bleeding slightly, and two spots could be easily noticed with the bare eye.
‘When you walk along the bush, when the grass stands above your feet, death is waiting for you. It is always a must to have more than a six feet long, strong wooden stick with you wherever you walk in such conditions. Hit the grass first and listen to the response. If you hear woof sound, you need to watch out. They signal before they act. In case a snake hits you, keep your mouth on the wound and suck as much as you can and spit the blood out. That is vital. Then, find some snap-ginger leaves and roots to eat. That will slow down the spread of the venom in the body and victim may have the chance to live until he is taken to the healer.’
The lectures of the man who taught us basic skills of survival in the bush were amazingly interesting. We encountered several situations where we had to put them into practice in real life situations such as the time when a snake hit the team member.
The boy was suffering from intense pain, and he was quite panicked. ‘Keep your mouth and suck the wound as much as you can!’ Came to my mind. Without wasting a single second, I sucked his wound till I got a mouthful of blood. Then I threw it out. Finally, we managed to take the boy to the Poro camp but unfortunately, the boy died after a while. He bled from nose and mouth along with forms of secretion at his last moment. We were watching how the two men were trying to treat him in vain.
‘He left us.’ The man who was treating said.
‘Unfortunate boy. His time was not right. There is no way a healer could come before the Puff-adder venom hits his brain.’
The other man said in a tone of frustration.
The sadness took over all activities transforming the active days into days of pensiveness and hyper vigilance. The whole Poro camp became a funeral and mourning community. Amidst all our sorrowful thoughts, we did not know if there was another lesson waiting for us.
Next day early morning, we were asked to gather as usual, but the man who was lecturing us told that we were not going to go out and there was a special person willing to see us. And we needed to learn how to keep our tongue fully controlled from that point on.
‘I will fence your mouths and bind your tongues.’ I still remember what the old man told welcoming us.
A man, with a messy bush-like hair and all kinds of dirt on it, appeared in front of us. He looked insane and demonic. The way he looked at us reminded me of the pythons that sometimes peeped at the hens through the bushes in the village. ‘Were his eyes searching for a prey? A human prey?’ It was the only question that came to my mind when I looked at him.
‘He is from a Kissi village outside the border,’ the man came forward and introduced the man who looked insane and demonic. He was wearing animal skins decorated with the bones and skulls of different animals. He had a walking stick with a face of a tiger carved in wood.
‘He cures anything on Earth; He has skills gifted by the Creator,’ the man kept on praising the healer.
The healer did not even smile. Lack of pleasant gestures and human expressions exhibited the unique characteristics of his personality. It had somehow given him a supernatural power over the others.
‘Insanity itself is superior to sanity as it is the sick form of sanity and no one wants to be sick,’ often Oldman−my grandfather`s complicated expressions came to my mind. His literary skills had added colours to my life. I learnt on many occasions that what my grandfather told was proven to be true.
We did not have time to breathe after the introduction of the wired looking man. The dead body of the boy was brought before us.
‘The things you hear,
the things you see,
the things you do,
the things we talk,
the things we do,
the things we learn,
will remain unto us,
no one else will hear anything from us,
the Creator is looking at us now,
we do all this for him,
may He guide us!’
The man asked us to follow his words and he fell down on the ground and started to read out his oath to the Creator. So did we. All the boys were asked to be naked and follow the healer. The other men brought some sharp pieces of iron. After a while, we all stood up, and the healer started to pray for the Creator. He was pleading to the Creator in permission for sending the soul of the dead boy amidst the ancestors. After a while, he took the sharp piece of metal that the men had brought and cut the belly of the boy. Every single boy among us started looking at each other in shock. It was not the greedy feeling of a good meal that came to my mind whenever I saw a goat hanging on a tree branch with the belly wide open. I was horrified and shocked to see what was happening. I felt a stream of hot water along my legs. Without my knowledge, I had passed urine out of fear. This could have happened to me or anyone else among us in case I was hit by the Puff Adder.
‘Before the time, nothing would kill you.’ One of the common sayings which my grandfather used to utter came to my mind. It was not my time, but it might come anytime in this bush while none in the family was around.
The man kept chanting prayers to the Creator and the ancestors while pulling out the organs of the boy. The other men were helping the healer just in the same way my father used to clean the goat; ruthless and greedy.
‘This boy is a treasure. He is a pathway to the place of the Creator,’ the healer lifted his head like a lion that was looking at a hyena that approached its hunt and said.
‘May Creator take our offer and let us hide from the eyes of evil!’ The other two men said together.
After taking the organs including the eyes and genitals of the dead boy, men called a few boys among us to come and join them. They took the remains into the thick bush, and the healer went to the temporary hut which was erected for the old man. He kept on chanting for the whole night and disappeared the next day. Nonetheless, everyone was deeply concerned and on the watch out for snakes every single step made in the bush.
After a couple of days, another boy offered his half-lived life to the Creator, but this time it was fever, not a Puff-Adder or a Viper. By the time the old man returned, as he said, the most important time had come. We had learnt a lot of life skills and survival technics and sacrificed five lives to the Creator and ancestors. Out of the organs, the healer had made magical medicine and charms. The fear of death, fear to encounter blood and fear to handle dead bodies had already been added to yesterday of our boy life. We were on the way to become perfect men.
Upon the return of the old man, I dreamt about Kumba. She was pretty and full and was waiting for me in her hut. After a while, I saw my father coming out of her hut tightening his wrapper. I screamed and woke up. The boys started laughing at me the following morning saying that I was trying to fight my father.
‘Today is the initiation; the precious moment of complete transformation into a full man who can give belly* to a woman, who can have children, who can assume responsibilities, a grown-up man who knows how to perform his role in the family as well as in the society. When you all return home, you will be respected. You will make your own hut soon, and it will be warmed by women. And the fence around your mouth is complete. Your tongues will not speak the unspeakable. You will enter the world of secrecy and power.’
The old man kept on delivering his speech as if he was possessed by a spirit. He was over energetic for his age. His diction was piercing through our young hearts pumping in pride. His tonality was authoritative. We were listening to him as if we were hypnotised.
The following morning, we were asked to go to the river to have a wash and return as early as possible. Two men accompanied us to the river. When we returned, the healer had shown up again. ‘That should be an ill-omen,’ one of the boys said aloud.
‘Shut up! you all have to keep silent today,’ the man who taught us survival skills told us in a threatening voice.
We were lined up naked outside the enclosure. Then, the men took the boys in one by one. Every single one who went in screamed out of pain. And I did not see them come back. I thought it was the same thing that happened to the boys who died unexpectedly. They did it alive this time.
When the old man said Kuju, my legs became numb, and I could not move. ‘Kuju’ He repeated in a higher pitch which apparently charged with anger and irritation. I closed my eyes and started walking towards the enclosure. I felt as if I was the goat that my father recently killed.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a place where there was blood. My speculation was right I thought. On a banana leaf, there were some medicine, pieces of cloth and a knife. The old man appeared before me just like an arrow and grabbed me from behind holding my hands together. His grip reminded me of a python that coiled around its prey.
‘No fear! You will soon be ok,’ he told me while he was holding me for the healer to execute his part of duty.
When I felt the cold knife on my genitals that were caught in the merciless grip of the healer, I thought that the days I pissed over the bushes would be over.
‘Kumba I will not come home,’ words were too fast to control.
‘What did you say?’ Before I was able to say anything to what the old man asked, the cold knife separated the foreskin out of my genitals leaving a sharp pain. I dared not look down there to see what they did. Instead, I clenched my teeth. I felt that the healer was applying something on me which turned the pain into a burning sensation.
‘You will be alright,’ The old man smiled at me showing me the way out.
Those boys who went in before me were there; all of them were with their boy part covered with herbal pastes and their faces were full of expressions of pain that they were trying to suppress. Once everyone was cut, three men came to us and applied some powder on us to decorate. They all looked happy about having us cut.
‘The boy parts are now man-parts, strong and clean,’ the old man said.
‘You will not gather dirt from women now,’ he added.
That evening there was a celebration. Boys were painted black and white with ash, coal and some herbal essence and dressed in typical Poro dancers` dress. First time in my life, I wore a Poro mask which symbolised not only the transition to manhood, but also most importantly the attainment of wisdom required for accepting responsibility in Kissi society.
After the celebration, the old man approached us again.
‘Before all of you go back to the village, keep in mind that the mystery should remain a mystery. If it is no more a secret, it will no longer be a mystery. So is the life. The real value of life will be revealed when it is fully lived. Until you live, it remains a mystery. Your pubic hair and your cleanliness mean that you have a tongue which is bound and that you have a mouth which is fenced. So long as secrets remain secrets, the traditions prevail. So does the tribe. The future of the tribe is on you. I am too old now. After I close my eyes, one of you should take boys here.’ The old man turned back.