The Dark Continent

“He says he would like your permission to explore the forbidden areas of the jungle, only he said it in a not very nice manner.”

“Tell him, unequivocally, no.” The chief slapped his thighs in the traditional way to end a conversation, even clapped his hands for extra emphasis, stood up, and stalked out of the great house.

Before I could convey the words, the white chief was standing, smiling. “Even I can interpret those gestures!” he exclaimed dramatically. “Excellent well! We leave for the heart of the jungle come morning!”

I lost track of my lower jaw for quite a long moment, and had to assemble my hands to find it. “Are you mad?” I finally located my voice, lost behind my teeth. “Are you barking mad? Have you been bitten by a rabid animal, and require being locked up, so your madness doesn’t spread and infect the rest of us?”

The white chief paused. “What, my boy? What are you blathering about now?”

“Don’t you ‘boy’ and ‘blather’ me, you old reprobate. I went to Oxford, unlike yourself. I only came here with your exploration team because the vast majority of the salary you’re paying me, will fund my own children’s education. The rest goes to my tribe, to improve our lives as we see fit. Our great chief told you ‘NO.’ He told you ‘NO’ in such a demonstrative manner that there are no takesies-backsies. How many languages do I have to speak, to tell you ‘Absolutely Not’ in no uncertain terms? I know five. How many do you know?”

Mister I’m the Leader of This Expedition Because I’m the Third Boy Daddy Whelped, looked at me sideways. “Boy, what bee is in your bonnet? I don’t have time for this, we have an expedition to pack! Here, grab my chair, we’ll certainly need that in the jungle-”

“NO! Did you not hear me? The chief said ‘NO!’ No, we are not going into the jungle! NO, we are not packing for an expedition! You are going home, not further! I am quitting my asinine job with you, and staying here with my family! The forest is forbidden for a reason! Get over yourself, white boy! You’re not welcome here! Go home!”

Expedition Leader Extraordinaire blinked slowly. “What did you just say to me, darkie?”

“Are you really so stupid to say that in a village, in the heart of Africa, where white people are outnumbered, three to one?”

“But… he clapped twice…”

“Does everything in your head revolve around your white-centric interpretation of everything? I explained this all before – thigh slap, conversation is over. Double hand clap, emphasis on the next word out of the clapper’s mouth. The chief said no. Or are you just all whiny because someone has the temerity to tell you no, and mean it?”

“Double hand clap means get right to it, you know, chop chop!”

“God, you are stupid. And racist to boot.” I realized we were outside the great house, and everyone was listening. This was my final chance. “People! Your great leader will lead you into a death trap! Listen to me, not my skin color! Turn around and go home! My people will lead you safely back to the ship, should you choose to leave. If you follow this moron, you will die. All sorts of deadly things live in there, from the great tiger, to the bot fly, from the choking python, to the disease-carrying mosquitoes! Choose wisely! I am renouncing my contract and commission effective immediately, and I demand to be paid, because I will not lead you to your deaths! The Great Chief has refused to allow you to continue for those excellent reasons, but Mister I Have Daddy Issues there will kill you before admitting such things aloud! Save yourself, refuse his orders, and live!”

“Oh, tush, what nonsense you blather, my boy! Come, people, on to glory!” He waved me off, and sauntered to his tent, giving orders left and right.

Some complied. Others paused, looked at me uncertainly. I crossed my arms and shook my head. Others looked between the pair of us.

Slowly, a few came over to whisper questions. And I answered truthfully.

Come morning, about a third of the expedition’s workers were in the great house, huddled fearfully. What they were doing would save their lives, but might ruin their reputation. A fate worse than death. They knew a possible court martial waited for them, once they reached England again, for desertion.

The Fearless Leader was also having difficulties. He’d tried to sneak out before dawn, but our guard-warriors caught him. He was forced to pay me, and the rest of the workers left behind, our rightful wages. On my insistence, he was also forced to write letters exonerating the people who refused to continue, just in case of said court martial. I read each document thoroughly before accepting them. A few papers needed to be passed back for the addition of more names, as others jumped ship.

And then the expedition was forced to take a different route. Our chief had said no. If they were going to enter the forbidden jungle, they would have to choose another tribe’s lands for the opportunity.

Our chief joined the group gathered in the great hall. “Fear not, people, we will get you back to the coast. We are not at war with our neighbors, nor with white men, so we can get you safely to your ship. Take my brother’s papers with you, to ensure your safety when you land on native soil. Tell them that the rest perished in the jungle. They will not return. If they try, all the tribes that surround the jungle know full well to kill any who attempt to come out. We know what diseases they likely carry, and we protect each other well.”

There was a silence to this speech. One finally scraped together a bit of courage. “Um, sir? You- you speak English?”

“We all do. But your glorious leader couldn’t grasp that we are human, and have brains. Fool. So he got his performance, and you are alive. It is a good trade.”

“So… you understood… everything we said…”

The chief grinned. “Yep. All of it. Overheard by the whole tribe. And reported to me.”

There was an embarrassed silence.

I had to know. “All right, so what stupid treasure does that idiot think we’re guarding? He wouldn’t tell me, because he was afraid I’d warn my people. And he wouldn’t believe we were trying to protect you all from a painful, protracted, death. What was it? Gold? Jewels?”

A former porter shook his head. “He told us it was something you said. A bolus, he said. Hey, a bolus. A chant, with a bolus.”

My brother and I smacked our faces simultaneously.

Ebola...