Searching for Bate Besong

The Spark!

1 The Spark! The curtains pull apart to reveal a huge auditorium flushed with lights. A table draped in white cloth and three chairs. Only a few rows of seats are occupied mostly by children so that in the vast emptiness, sound is amplified in echoes. DOCKINTA appears at the entrance and is only momentarily taken aback by the vacant hall; he switches on a broad smile and strolls toward the scanty space, bowing at intervals, under the illusion of applause, lifting the folds of his agbada. But he contemplates the empty seats, continuously shaking his head; then on a sudden impulse turns away and faces the audience and claps his hands for attention, smiling. His comportment should give the impression that the ‘stage’ audience is exactly the one he is addressing. DOCKINTA: Well … good people … well, here we are at last, to celebrate the fruits of my, or let me say, our collective imagination. And I must thank the organisers [beams on the imaginary group] for such a marvellous job. [pause] I don’t know much about launches and luncheons but er… what we are about to witness this evening, ladies and gentlemen, is the baptism of my most recent publication entitled Fighting in the Dark. A very ordinary title, I must admit. But while we await the moment for more eloquent speakers to take the floor, I wish for you to consider one small question: what does it imply, fighting in the dark? Or to be more precise, what does it entail? Fighting in the dark … that’s the point – there are targets to be marked out in the dark; there are uncertainties to beware of, and certainties to 2 acknowledge; there are the victims to be pitied or not pitied, in the dark; above all there is the responsibility of the bona fide, fighting in the dark, to succeed. Responsibility that is hinged on the hope of victory on the one hand, and the fear of failure on the other. The consequences, whether of fear or of hope, I think, are significant for in them are found the seeds of mass salvation or condemnation from or to darkness. [pause] This, in summary, is the issue that I have addressed. For, say what you may, when all is said and done, the truth is that I’m burdened to love this land, and I love it with an abiding love, only that it is not reciprocated. Ah! Repeated stabs of all sorts, against my poor heart in this land of my birth, my lamentation. For, this petering enclave of the world is my abode, and my nib is the sword that scars and scares off its atrocities and at the same time stab the pulmonary vein of its enemies. And I, the lone patriot but misunderstood by kin-enemies of this land, this petering paradise misused, the roots of my nib abused, and why and how can I be quiet? Truth is the burden that would slay me if I rehearse the gangster patriotism of her enemies. And I say it without fear or apology then, that it is my only true baptism into humanhood, the pride of my calling. No, I make no apology as far as that goes! [shrill blast of whistle off stage and sound of rushing feet; DOCKINTA appears to be unawares] Perhaps you wish to know my personal opinion on the small matter of fighting in the dark… [paces briefly] I tell you, fighting in the dark is no good; only cowards and heroes of opportunism fight in the dark. We are under lights now; I can see from your 3 faces who is light-complexioned and who is not; I can also see who has fattened jowls and pointed cheek bones; bulging stomachs and long necks …simply because we are under light: lights show us breeders of falsehood, x-rays them, such worshippers of falsehood. [more alien sounds from off-stage; DOCKINTA pauses only briefly] Truly I tell you, falsehood has now become our national religion. [harsher sounds off-stage: ‘Big-mop Mokolo Dockinta! … fédéralisé-le! … faut Dockinta!’ DOCKINTA continues, gravely] I hear you well, but I’ve known my fate already, so why should I cringe? We can hide our identities as long as we fight and kill and loot in the dark, but with a flash of light, we know ourselves and can identify our targets...