Memoirs of a Porcupine (2 page)

back in the forest after a mission, I'd go and think things over for a while in a burrow, at the top of a tree, in a hollow trunk, or even by the river's edge, far from the parade of ducks, the procession of animals, I'd review what we'd been doing, me and my master, while he slept long and deep, recovering his strength after an exhausting night, I might think and think till the evening of the following day, it never tired me, in fact I enjoyed grappling with the abstract world, and I learned early on to discriminate, to look for the best solution to a problem, I don't know why men think themselves so superior, I'm sure they're not born intelligent, they may have a certain aptitude for it, intelligence is a seed which must be watered if is to flourish, and grow into a well-rooted fruit tree, some people will always be ignorant and uncultivated as a flock of sheep, following one of their number over the edge into a ravine, others will always be fools, like a certain astrologer, a poor cretin who fell down a well, or the old crow who snatched a sheep because he saw an eagle do it, and others will cling to their stupidity, like the agama, that excitable lizard who tosses his head from dawn till dusk, such humans will always live in the twilight zone, their sole consolation being their humanity, the aged porcupine who used to govern us would have snapped ‘they're all cretins, their
bottom line is we're humans, but a fly's not a bird, just because it can fly', what I'm saying is that while I sat there thinking, I was trying to understand what lay behind each idea, each concept, I know now that thought is of the essence, it's thought that gives rise to human grief, pity, remorse, even wickedness or goodness, and while my master brushed these feelings aside with a wave of his hand, I felt them after every mission, many's the time my face was wet with tears, because, for porcupine's sake, at times of great sadness or compassion, you get a lump somewhere right near your heart, your thoughts turn black, you regret your actions, the bad things you've done, but as I was only carrying out orders, devoting my life to my role as a double, I managed to get a grip on my black thoughts, and tell myself, by way of comfort, that that there were worse things you could do in this life, I'd take a good deep breath, gnaw at a few manioc roots or palm nuts, try to get some sleep, tell myself tomorrow would be another day, and soon I'd be given a new mission, and I'd have to prepare myself, leave my hiding place, make my way to my master's house or workshop, receive his instructions, of course, I was free to rebel, I did sometimes dream of escaping my master's clutches, it sometimes crossed my mind, the temptation was strong, there were certain acts I could perhaps have avoided, but it was like a kind of paralysis, and I didn't act, even yesterday, when the only option was the cowardly one, to flee like a peaceful double, as my master breathed his last and passed on to the next world, I waited and watched while he endured his final death throes, a scene which stays etched in my mind, pardon my emotion, the tremor in my voice, I'll just pause here, take a few deep breaths

by rights I should have left this world by now, I should have died the day before yesterday, along with Kibandi, there was total panic, total shock, we were caught short, we had no contingency plan for an event of this kind, I turned back into a wretched little scarpering porcupine, in fact at first I didn't realise I was going to survive myself, and since a double normally dies the same day as his master, I thought I must be just a ghost, and when I saw Kibandi gasping his last, surrendering his mortal soul, I was immediately thrown into a panic, because, as our old governor used to say, ‘when the ears are cut off, it's time for the neck to worry', and I didn't know what to do, where to go, I was running round in circles, space seemed to be shrinking around me, I felt like the sky was about to fall in, I couldn't get my breath, everything was terrifying, I told myself I needed immediate proof of my existence, but what proof is there ever that one exists, that one is not just an empty shell, a shadow without a soul, well, I had picked up a few handy tricks from the men round here, I just had to ask myself what the difference was between a living being and a ghost, first I told myself that I thought, therefore I must exist, now I've always said that men don't have the monopoly on thought, anyway, the inhabitants of Séképembé, in any case, say that ghosts can think
too, since they come back to haunt the living, and have no problem finding the paths which lead to the village, they wander around the markets, go and look round where they used to live, announcing their death in the villages all around, sit down at a roadside bar, order a glass of palm wine, drink like old soaks, settle the debts they ran up while they were alive, and yet as far as the eye is concerned, they don't exist, so one couldn't be sure of anything, I needed a different sort of proof, so I tried an old trick, I waited till the sun rose on Saturday, that was yesterday, and I came out of my hiding place, I looked left, looked right, sat down in the middle of a sort of empty space, waved my front paws, crossed them, uncrossed them, and seeing that, praise be to porcupines, who'd have believed it, my shadow moved, and its movements corresponded to those of my limbs, I was alive, no doubt about it, and I could have just stopped there, you would have thought, but no, I wasn't sure, I didn't want to do anything dumb, I wanted still further proof – the surest kind – that I was alive, so I went to look at myself in the river, and again I waved my front paws around, and crossed, then uncrossed them, I saw my reflection mirror my movements, so I couldn't be a ghost, because what I've gathered so far, what I've picked up from the humans in Séképembé, is ghosts don't have reflections, they lose all physical presence, become immaterial, but I still wasn't convinced of my existence, despite all these irrefutable items of proof, which would have been quite enough for your average villager, I had to do one more test, a more physical one this time, so since by now I was walking along by the water's edge, I dropped down and scrabbled in the dust, took a running jump then flung myself into the water, I felt its chill, and then I knew, this time for certain, that I was still alive, the worst thing is, I
would have drowned if I hadn't quickly got out of the water, and straight after that I went back to my master's house, to see how things were developing over there, I hid behind the workshop, and was amazed to see the body of Kibandi, lying under a cover of palm leaves, he had departed this world, for sure, but what shocked me most was that, from a distance, it looked as though his corpse had an animal head, a head looking something like mine, but ten times bigger than mine, or maybe it was the fear of my own demise that conjured up this illusion, it was death, that was clear, death lay here before me, with a heartbeat like my own, ready to pounce on me, maybe in a minute, maybe in an hour, several questions occurred to me, for example ‘what if a hunter set upon me', or ‘what if there was a flood and I was swept into the turbulent river Niari?', with questions like that going round in my head I just couldn't stay calm, I felt nervous, anxious, at the slightest noise I dashed for cover, like a coward, like a peaceful double, and I went and hid myself in a lair, the first time I'd set foot in it, I was right to be frightened too, because straightaway I heard a reptile hissing, no time to work out what species it was, out I came, rolled up in a ball, terror in my gut, and I said to myself a reptile that hissed like that must be deadly poisonous, I came hurtling out of the lair, I had to cross the main road to get to the houses at the edge of the village, and that was dangerous too, it was a road used by transport trucks once a week, I couldn't remember which day they came roaring like mad things though our region, I decided I wouldn't cross the road, you never know, and I just wandered around where I was, unable to shake off the image of my master with my head on him, I lost a few quills along the way, and then I began to feel ashamed of myself, I was letting my human side
get the better of my animal nature, you scumbag you, I said to myself, coward, selfish bastard, I told myself I couldn't just run away like this, and yet I didn't see what else I could do at this point in the proceedings, if I wasn't careful I'd attract the attention of the Batéké dogs and then the whole village would come running after me, to kill me, there was a little voice I couldn't resist, though, that spoke to me, chided me, called on me to show some dignity, to make some gesture which would have pleased my late master, so I went back to Kibandi's hut a bit later, despite the danger of being picked upon by those tailed vigilantes, the Batéké dogs, fortunately they were off duty then, I just had time to make out what was going on in my master's yard, they were preparing to take him to the cemetery, he didn't qualify for the kind of village funeral that lasts at least five or six days, he'd be buried within twenty-four hours of his death, I saw a small group of men carrying the body to the graveyard, I recognised the Moundjoula family, who had been the cause of my master's death, their two children, the twins, Koty and Koté, it was more of a formality than a proper burial, I swear, no one was crying, for porcupine's sake, I wouldn't have been surprised to find the villagers murmuring ‘all bad deeds on earth are punished, at last the wicked Kibandi is dead, let him burn in hell', my heart ached to see the way they dragged his coffin along the ground, I'm quite sure the only reason they went through the motions of giving him a final send off was because, even though they may not feel like it, humans will bury even the wickedest man, and the witch doctor gave a funeral oration even though he didn't want to, two guys hurriedly moved to fill in the grave, the cortege left in silence, while I stayed there, staring at the cross they'd cobbled together from two branches of a
mango tree, it leaned a bit to the left, stuck on top of a mound of earth which was now my master's tomb, I could make out an old storm lantern that the villagers had left by the tomb so the deceased would be able to find his way in the deep darkness of the next world, and more to the point, so he would never show up again amongst the inhabitants of the villagers, worming his way into the belly of a pregnant woman, what's more, the villagers are convinced that if the dead don't have a storm lantern by their tomb they may go walking over the bodies of the other dead souls, to whom they should show respect because they died before them, which seemed quite considerate of them, considering Kibandi had given them nothing but grief, I saw the group coming back towards the village in single file, I heard their whispers, their conjectures as to the cause of my master's death, I blocked my ears because they were saying things I could scarcely believe, in fact what I wanted was to get closer to Kibandi's last resting place, sniff the earth where he lay, but I didn't, I left, weeping bitterly, angry with myself for fleeing like a coward, I turned round to take one last look at his tomb, then finally left, but with no thought where I might go, night fell upon the village, shadows loomed before me, I could see nothing, by chance I found a place to spend the night, between two large stones, I'd had to scratch way at the earth for quite a while to make a place for myself, I knew it would only be a temporary shelter, I wasn't going to hang around there forever because it's the place where some of the villagers sharpen their hoes before going out in to the fields, and during the night I fought off the desire to sleep because my feeling was that the night and death go together, always have, and when I did actually nod off for a bit, forgetting for a moment that I was under sentence of death,
forgetting the image of the corpse with my own head grafted onto it, I dreamed that I was falling into a great hole in the ground, and I also dreamed that I was surrounded by flames, which swept through the bush, throwing even our eternal enemies, the lions, the leopards, the spotted hyenas, the jackals, the cheetahs, the tigers and the panthers, into a panic, I woke with a start, astonished to hear my quills rustling, surprised I could still see things, ‘I'm still alive, I'm still alive, I'm not dead, for porcupine's sake', I said to myself, but I had to get out of there fast, so that's what I did

only a few hours ago, at the first light of dawn, I mean, today, Sunday, I shook the dust off my belly and my butt, at first I hadn't understood why no villagers had passed by the two large stones where I'd hidden for the night, then later it dawned on me that today is a day of rest, otherwise I would have seen hunters, palm wine tappers and other workers who go out into the fields at crack of dawn, and so, before leaving the stones, I stretched, I yawned, followed my instinct, I shuffled along awkwardly, I don't quite know how I found my way down to the river, where for once the wild ducks and other animals were nowhere to be seen, I wanted to make my way to the bit where the water's less deep, then decided against it, for fear of drowning, then I came across you, which is why, my dear Baobab, I've been sitting at your feet since this morning, talking to you, talking still, even though I'm sure you won't answer, and yet the spoken word, it seems to me, delivers us from the fear of death, and if it could also help me stave it off for a little while, or escape it, that would make me the happiest porcupine in all the world

 

 

the fact is, though I'm ashamed to say this, I don't want to
disappear, I'm not sure there is life after death, and even if there is, I don't want to know about it, I don't want to dream of a better life, the aged porcupine who ruled over us was right when he declared, enjoying the immediate impact of his thoughts on the group, ‘
the toad wished so hard for a better lot, he found himself without a tail for all eternity
' and in fact the toad didn't just find himself without a tail, he was also afflicted with such ugliness that it would be a crime even to feel sorry for him, and so, my dear Baobab, when men talk of the life to come they're kidding themselves, poor things, in the next life, they think, there'll be a clear blue sky, and angels everywhere, with everything lovely, they'll be in a garden, in the bush, but a bush where the lion has no fangs, no claws, and will laugh, not roar, and no such thing as death, jealousy, hatred or envy, all humans will be equal, well I'll go along with all that, but how can I be sure I'll stay a porcupine, what if I'm reincarnated as an earthworm, or a ladybird, a scorpion, jelly fish, palm tree caterpillar, slug or some other wretched creature of far lowlier status than my present one, a status which would be the envy of any other animal, now you may think I'm just a braggart, a smooth talker, an idiot with bristles, it's not that I go round criticising other species for the mere pleasure of exaggerating, no, it's that modesty can be a handicap, it can ruin your life, that's why, ever since I realised that if you're going to accept yourself as you are it's best to play down your shortcomings, for example, I'd rather have a nice set of bristles than the chronic mange you see on the dogs of this village, there are some wretched creatures in this world I won't even mention, there are always some worse off than yourself, the list is endless, it would be quicker to count my tens of thousands of quills than to list every animal with a grudge
against the world's creator, I'm thinking of the poor old tortoise and its rough shell, the elephant with its awkward trunk, the hapless buffalo with its ridiculous horns, the filthy pig, stuffing its snout in the mud, the snake, condemned to slither about on its belly, the male chimpanzee, with his testicles that hang down like gourds of palm wine, let's not even mention the duck, with its squishy webbed feet, like a gastropod's, there are so many pitiful creatures here below, my own species are by no means the worst off, and if human beings were a bit more truthful themselves, they'd agree with me, because, for porcupine's sake, if you'll just excuse me for upping the tone a moment, I wasn't one to be content with nibbling away at the bark a few metres from where I slept, idling my time away down a hole, gnawing the bones of dead animals or the fruit which had fallen from the tree, and once my mission was accomplished, let me tell you, I'd go back into the forest, and huddle up alone, though I'd never minded solitude until last Friday, I pondered the meaning of my relationship with my master, but let it not be thought that I was at such times overwhelmed, devastated, caught in the trap of my master's curious destiny, oh no, I want to live in the here and now, I want to live just as long as you do, and between you and me, I'm not going to decide I've no right to live, and take my own life, let's be quite clear about that, I'm trying to look on the bright side, I'd still like to have a laugh now and then, to show laughter's not just for humans, for porcupine's sake