non-fiction by Karamoh Kabba

Meanwhile, the Governor was getting
ready for the rigid chief with troops massing
his chiefdom border. They were the best of his
troops armed with new muskets against the
chief’s rabble of soldiers with primitive
firearms. He would rout them within a day or
so. He thought of the impending fight in the
antechamber of his house.

Chief Morquee came outside the hall
area where he kept his war trophies. He
recalled his warrior years when he was a mere
lad from the poro society, which turned him
into a man. This time he was not only the
warrior but also the commander in chief of the
fighters he would lead in a battle to fight and
die for their land. He stopped in his thoughts
and picked up his cola nut bowl. He picked a
big one and split the lodes and started to chew,
as he kept his own counsel. The cola nut
imbued him with fervor to turn round and look
at two human skulls he brought home from the
war. An appropriate time, he drank bamboo-wine
from it.

Chief Morquee was overcome
with fury over the tax issue and avowed his
war aims: “In a cao or so, we shall slaughter
them like cattle and their blood shall wash the
sumaingama, or abomination of the white
man’s trespass on our rights.” Chief Morquee
was now in contemplation of victory. The
spoils of war will include the return of
Temesadu, Gbomakoh, Gorboekoh and
Tefeya, the neighboring chiefdoms that used to
be part of Gbankaya Kingdom. The greater
territory of Gbankaya would also be a
propitiation of all the troubles the white man
brought to his people.

Paramount Chief Morquee recalled one
ballad of Deesigbeyee in concert with his
thoughts of victory at war:

“yaa man nfaana O’
yaa man nfaa, O’”

You have wronged me, he intoned. He
was now poised to reconcile that wrong with
the blood of the Governor’s troops and
perhaps one or two white men who would join
the battle with him. Chief Morquee planned to
spring his stratagem on the invading troops. He
planned to mass his village fighters in caves
below the Gbankaya hill and in the dark
rainforest.

All the natural leaders of Gbankaya
sat in the thatched open courtyard behind the
Paramount Chief in his chair. The crowd
gathered here to wait for the Choma, witch
doctor to come out. This occasion was called
chomatomboe, the dance of the witch doctor,
and every one was compelled to attend to
avoid being branded a witch or wizard. There
was throng of onlookers towards the Choma’s
expectant magical powers.

The chomatomboe was called because
the Paramount Chief instructed all the
donsonu, hunters, to make available as much
fanehnu, caves, as they could. Several years
had passed without war in the chiefdom of
Gbankaya and therefore, all the fanehnu were
fully reoccupied by wild animals, ranging from
small to large reptiles and mammals. Chief
Morquee was taught the usefulness of these
fanehnu. He was told that the fanehnu were
the safest places for women and children in
times of war. He was also taught warfare, that
the fanehnu were the best places to launch
counter offence against an overpowering
enemy. But the fanehnu had not been put into
use since the colonial masters made the wars
of conquest an unlawful act, and the animals
grew in numbers over these several years. In
fact, there were lion’s dens in these fanehnu
long time ago. The same way, in ancient times,
more powerful donsonu invaded the fanehnu
off the lions in years of wars of conquest,
which obliterated the dens. Lions were only
discussed now in folklore and oral tradition.
They were totally extinct in a long period of
systematic perilous evolution of the dens. The
job of the donsonu was to make available
these fanehnu, once more, for the eminent war
against the colonial government.

The invasion of the fanehnu was a
serious responsibility fell to the donsonu. It
took a lot of nerve, voodoo and magic to
accomplish the task. It was akin to Hercules
cleaning the Augean tables, hence, a
Herculean task. It was even a myth here in
Gbankaya that some donsonu changed into
animals to do a better job of hunting dangerous
animals such as the ones dueling in the
fanehnu. They told the Paramount Chief that
witches and wizards who always tried to
challenge their powers could deter the effort.
They also stated that sometimes some people
just wanted to see them fail, for which they
interfered with their witchcraft.

The Paramount Chief listened and acted
upon the concerns of the donsonu. He called
the most famous choma who was known to
have traced his family’s background to the
soothsayer who predicted the powers of the
‘white devils’. His job was to hunt and destroy
all those witches and wizards who were not for
the good of the cause. He was to hunt down
and kill anyone whose heart was full of evil for
that important task that the donsonu were
about to undertake. In doing so, they sang:

Choma nyi mbo oo
Nea ye’
Choma nyi mbo oo
Nea ye’mbeh!

The people sang and the drums beat
while the choma’s helper trembled with a horn,
decorated with cowries and herbs, held firm in
both hands. He stood on his toes and shook
vigorously as a man with a calabash full of
liquid and herbs poured more herbs on him.
His ankles were decorated with bells
underneath a pair of well-braided raffia that
skirted his ankles. Around his waist was a skirt
made of animal skin in six separate oval
patches interspersed with small round mirrors
and cowries. He was the choma’s eyes who
was converted into a zombie. He had no mind
of his own. The herbs controlled his action. He
was transformed into a zombie to see
everything in the voodoo world, and he was
empowered by the herbs to expose them. Like
a drunk, indeed he drank more than enough
bamboo-wine before he was transformed, he
moved helter skelter, pointing his horn in the
direction of would be witches and wizards.

The choma jumped into the middle of
the crowd into the open space, saved for him.
He was dressed almost like the helper except
that he had on a small vest made of country
cloth decorated with mirrors, cowries and
different kinds of talismans and herbs. He also
had on a very tall hat of animal skin, which
was also decorated like the vest. In his hand
was a long sword. His victims were the
underachievers, mostly very old men and
women. They were going to be described in a
way that everyone would know who they were
and the choma gave an estimated time for their
death. He made several cuts into the ground
for every victim he described, which
symbolized their death in the voodoo world.
Although no one saw any blood or anything,
everyone believed that he was killing the
evildoers. Their own families abandoned the
underachievers who fit the choma’s description
thereafter. They gossiped and despised them
until they died of despair and abuse from their
kindred. Whenever an aging man or woman,
who fit the Choma’s description passed away,
the choma took the credit.

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Lion Mountain: A Perilous Evolution of the Dens

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Title Lion Mountain: A Perilous Evolution of the Dens
Author
email
URL Karamoh Kabba
KARAMOHSLYLHORG@AOL.COM
www.uPUBLISH.com/books/kabba2.htm
Publisher Universal Publishers/uPUBLISH.com (2003)
ISBN 1581125704
Paperback
Order --> $19.95 US, 198 pages, direct from publisher uPUBLISH.com
PDF
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Synopsis
In his second book, Karamoh Kabba has accomplished two tasks in a semi-fiction novel: He has written both a historical account in a plot that reads so well, the reader is transported to spheres of geography where hitherto not been, yet occupies the terrain which an omni-competent writer lures the attentive reader that Kabba conjures in fine fictional writing.To read this book, is to stand yonder in Africa of kings, chiefs and men of intrigue. When done reading this book, one is bound to encourage others to share in the intrigue and enjoyment that come from each chapter, teeming with culture of earlier societies. The protagonist Chief Morquee III, is the apotheosis of the tale told by Kabba. In hubris and likeness, he is the embodiment of Okonkwo of Chinua Achebe's classic novel, Things Fall Apart. In Kabba's story, an obdurate and powerful chief, a veteran of tribal wars, throws down the gauntlet to flout the authority of a white Governor who has ordered a new tax, Chief Morquee would not permit his people to pay. A stand off between the Chief and Governor leads to a war of nerves that blossom into a contest of war. In the ensuing drama of war of nerves and contest in arms, there is something for history, social anthropology, political science and literature. Lion Mountain is indeed the novel written from the perspective of an African writer, but its value and contribution to literature are truth that need no compelling argument. Kabba has indeed woven the tradition threads of his heritage into a fine fabric, to behold history and fiction in one place.


About the Author
Karamoh Kabba is a native of Peyima, Kamara Chiefdom, Kono District, Republic of Sierra Leone. Kabba is the author of the seminal work, A Mother s Saga: An Account of the Rebel War in Sierra Leone, a memoir of the decade-long rebel conflict in Sierra Leone. Kabba has published several verses of poems on the highly acclaimed web site, Sierra Leone Web. He has also published a fine poem, Poverty amidst Gold and Diamonds In With Hearts Ablaze, An anthology of The International Library of Poetry. He lives with his wife Maria Gutierrez and children Oscar, Kemoh and Fatima Kabba in Potomac, Maryland. Kabba is the founder, President & Chief Executive Officer of Sierra Leone Youth Lending Hand (SLYLH), a public trust institution, organized to assist the youth of Sierra Leone in their quest for postwar rehabilitation in education, health and counseling.


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