Demons in the Deep Woods

N'gani ran through the woods not daring to look back. Her fear had reason to be, because he knew they were getting closer. Such true quiumbas which emerged from the old stories of his people, the white giants seemed determined to capture it.

And to think that that morning he woke packed adventures of dreams. The night before he had heard, around the campfire, the traditions of the ancient warriors of their tribe and N'gani longed for excitement and glory.

He left his village willing to brave the woods as only legends can make. So distracted walking in his dream of victories that did not realize how much walked away. When he noticed how much was away, he decided to return. But their way was no longer as found. White giant waited. N'gani never seen him before, but knew immediately who it was. Many children were disappearing in the woods, and older said they had been taken by a thing called 'slave traders'. To N'gani, it was a demon!

He knew the forest well enough to run as he could, but the white devil was not alone, others accompanied and surrounded the forest paths, looking to one mile at a time and N'gani began to tire, breathing his pursuers closer.

Suddenly it happened. N'gani stumbled fear and fatigue and before he could get up he felt a hand clutching his arm as if to crush him, lifting him into the air as if it were nothing, and when it was bound and had a rope tied to his neck that's what N'gani felt: nothing.

He did not even know how long ago was being dragged when he saw other white devils and other bound children. N'gani can recognize several of them and their Llongos tribes, Wambesis, Sotos ... discouragement air them made N'gani think about yourself and how it should be.

Two demons spoke strange words that N'gani not understand. "Maybe the demons do not speak the languages ​​of men", thought the young mandinka. His laughter sounded rude and even more frightening. In one corner, N'gani could see a wambesi dead girl, torn clothes, legs spread; it was only then that understood that those demons were the worst kind: men. Fourteen wicked men.

They put they to walk in three rows of about ten children each with arms bound behind her and a rope that tied her right leg to the right leg of the child in front.

N'gani could not quite sure what would happen to him from there, but he knew his life as known was over. Never more the stories around the campfire, goodbye dreams of legends. He began to cry when she heard a murmur beside her, a low sound that said "Mimü ti o rin, ba de si wa1". And at last he remembered the stories his grandfather.

And immediately the murmur grew, each child singing the same song at your own pace to make up a big fuss. Human demons laughed at first, but after a while began to lose patience and began yelling at the children tied. N'gani understood that they were sending them to stop, but continued anyway until she felt an immense pain in the leg: one of the demons whipped.

The song gave way to weeping and sobbing.

Night fell in the jungle filled the sounds that indicate life and death. N'gani not say whether he slept or not, for fear of nocturnal jungle would be great without the constant threat that the presence of these men caused. As soon as the day arrived and they were already walking again. The young mandinka was hungry, tired and scared, feeling the forces fail even to cry.

He did not know how much had been when something caught his eye, a sound down first, far away, but it was growing; a sound that soon seemed to overlap the common noises of the forest; a sound that filled him and the other children of hope; a sound that was more than just music, it was a message that whites were unaware. It was the sound of drums ...

The sound lasted all morning, leaving the white men angry. If they knew what they were saying the drums, they would not have been just furious but terrified: The Ghost Who Walks was coming!

With a cry, the white man who whip ordered everyone to stop. Something was served to them to eat and N'Gani was sure it should not be eaten with people. The drums continued, leaving even more angry white devils. From the look on their faces gave to note that they did not understand why children were so calm, some even smiled. If you knew the jungle as N'Gani knew, they would have realized the mountain just beyond what was known as the "Phantom Head Peak".

Suddenly, the drums gave way to an unusual sound in the jungle: the silence.

N'Gani do not saw how it happened. In a second, one of the men who guarded stood some fifteen feet away near a bush, was only N'Gani flashing and the man was gone! The boy could hardly believe it. To where he had gone?

Looking around, the young mandinka realized that lacked most men, he thought at least six were gone, and then the remaining started screaming each other's names, nervous, scared and so were most dangerous.

One of the men, that same blocking his way out when captured, stopped just short of N'Gani and shouted in a native language that the boy understood "Who is doing this?" And the answer came in a bass sound that made curdling N'Gani blood and pale strange:

"It's me!"

The next sound was that of a powerful punch that toppled giant white N'Gani so close that he could see the mark of the skull on his face, a mark that would never can be removed. And there, standing so close to N'Gani he could almost hear her heart, was the huge protective of the Black Forest, who was known by many names, The Ghost Who Walks, The Phantom!

Weapons were drawn on all sides, but the only shots heard were those who left the hands of the Ghost Who Walks, disarming the demons that after the scare attacked drawing on the cuffs and the number strength. It was then that N'Gani finally realized that they were only men and women can do nothing against the legends.

The first prepared a punch and still had his fist when he fell unconscious; another was running and was suspended in the air as if to take off, being released into the air and falling back; one of them managed to grab the Phantom below the chest while the others surrounded him at this time N'Gani was afraid that men would exceed the legend. But the Ghost Who Walks grabbed two men with their hands and shook their heads against each other, then struck powerful blow that the grab.

It was one fantastic movement, hideous, impossible to be fully followed, but in the end there was only one foot giant, purple dress, her eyes invisible behind the mask. Wasting no time, he tied them one by one, with the strings that brought themselves.

Then the giant who was known to so many names turned to the children and his expression was that of a father who felt themselves the pain of their children. Untied to all and took care of each; the children cried in his arms and when N'Gani looked right and saw what appeared to be a tear rolling down the face of the man could not die. "So the legends also cry," he thought.

N'Gani liked to recall that day. He liked to tell how he and the children were returned to their villages by brave warriors of many nations. He liked even remember the demons being taken away, where he never really wanted to know. He would never become the warrior who dreamed; instead arrived at the most important place of his people, he was a griot, one jali, he who keeps the memory of his people in stories and songs.

And N'Gani knew many stories; He lived many stories. Today, with its white and leaning on his staff hair, it was he who charmed the festivities with the most amazing stories that children and adults lived to ask. But their favorite adventures, those who had greater vivacity, were those who spoke of his meetings with the Ghost Who Walks. Once even had received the mark of protection for saving the lives of the Phantom.

But that's another story ...

By Glaucio Cardoso

G lauciocardoso.blogspot.com

1 From iorubá: "Ghost who walks, come to us!"