The Crabs of Bangui

Chapter Eight

65 Chapter Eight N ow that we are talking about God and church, Prince, tell me, what do you really have against the church? You talk so well about the scriptures and about God. But you refuse to listen to anything concerning the church.” She wouldn’t understand, Hansel thought. Childhood impressions last for ever. Even as he listened to her plea, the image of the young man dissolved before his mind’s eye and in its stead strode forth the bearded mystic of his boyhood days – Caseley-Hayford or simply Casford, Lord Casford, Jesus of Akamanang-Ntang. Speaking through a tangled nest of beard that completely hid his mouth, he would say with great pride: “I am a free born of Sierra Leone.” He was indeed that. He was a sailor. Some fifteen years ago his ship had pulled in at the port in Bata, Malabo, Equatorial Guinea. They had gone on land for a drink, had got drunk and had been abandoned by the ship. After a spate of mutual recriminations a fight had broken out in which he had wounded his pal mortally. How he found himself in Akamanang-Ntang he could scarcely recall. Because he was being hunted for murder he escaped into the forest, going and going aimlessly, halting at tiny villages only to eat and drink, then moving on and on until he reached Akamanang-Ntang which he considered an ideal hideout for a man like himself on the run. He was talking and fanning himself with a piece of plywood because it was hot and he was perspiring in his down-reaching threadbare monk’s outfit, complete with 66 Linus T. Asong hood. And then he stopped fanning himself and looked round. The palaver house was already full of old men, young girls and naked boys, all waiting with great anticipation. Lord Casford threw down the fan, clapped his hands together high above his head to show that they were bare, and then closed them tightly. When he threw them open, and to the delight of everybody, a swallow dived out and flew to the roof of the hut. He held his hand and beckoned to the swallow, it flew back into his palm which he swung round and round and when he placed his hands on the bare ground the swallow had become an egg. He threw the egg into the air and then held a bowl in the air as if to catch the egg in it. Grains of peanuts filled the bowl which he distributed to the children who ate with relish. Lord Casford was performing in full gear on that particular day when it was announced that a catholic priest had come to see him. The white man was accompanied by some fifteen natives, most of them from the neighbouring village. The priest had heard of a certain heretic who was performing wonders at Akamanang-Ntang, but had never set eyes on him. Good thing he came and met him on a day when he was at the height of his magical powers. Lord Casford performed one last act before climbing down from his dais to confront his foe. He palmed a handkerchief, swung his hand round and it became a plate. “Who are you?’ the priest enquired. “I should be asking who you are,” Casford said. “I am Stampfel, father Stampfel,” the priest said. “I am Caseley-Hayford,” Jesus said, “Lord Casford.” “Jesus of…” one of his fans threw in. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth and then Casford said, “they also call me Jesus of Akamanang-Ntang.” The priest tried in vain to conceal his mirth as he found Casford also bursting with amusement. “We hear you perform miracles.” 67 The Crabs of Bangui “Thy own eyes have seen it,” Casford said. “I have seen nothing,” the priest said. Casford palmed a two headed snake which circled the priest twice, almost knocking him down with fright. Then he turned the snake into a walking stick and finally into a black wand which he held under his armpit. The old men crackled with laughter, the children screamed with excitement. “Thesearenomiracles,”thepriestsaid. ‘Thisisblackmagic.” “We call them miracles here,” Casford said. “I hear you claim to raise people from the dead,” the priest said. “Yes,” one of the tribesmen concurred waving a piece of paper in the air. The priest asked to look at...