Remember the Dream

When the gaze is turned outwards, we forget ourselves, looking for the reflection of our own eyes in the other person iris.

In the crowded alley with its distinctive tropical smells, one could hear the tohu bohu accustomed to brightening places, a slender figure weaved through the passers-by. The figure was dressed in the luxurious fashion of the culture. He stood out not only because of his height but also because of the badge hanging from his hip which glowed green.

When the eyes fell on this badge, a hand gesture, a sign of reverence was shown to the wearer. Usually malamu would respond with a small gesture of the head, acknowledging the respect shown to him.

'The boma yé is near, I must meet him so that he can take care of my equipment, a good equipment is important when you fight. I have to be quick and I don't have time to walk'

Suddenly the badge he wore on his hip changed from green to red, with incredible dexterity Malamu moved towards a nearby building without stopping, and started running up the wall...

Moving from building to building, sometimes running on their walls or making acrobatic gestures to go from one roof to another, one could grasp the beauty of the movement and his total dexterity.

He continued his merry-go-round until a figure stopped him dead in his tracks on the wall of a building.

Malamu was standing perpendicular to the wall of the tall building made from the Kongo/Bantu architectural model. While the man who faced him was maintained on a rope linked through a crossbrow that he was holding.

The passerby underneath the building continued to walk unaware. Living their lives.

"Who are you? It's not allowed to run on the roofs or on the walls of building" the man in front of him said.

" Ah, but wait? Aren't you one of the participants in the boma yé ceremony " the man said with surprise.

"Yes, I am"

"Show me your badge" the man asked.

With an easy gesture the badge was thrown to the man who intercepted it. He was inspecting the badge, muttering to himself.

Then he addressed Malamu, "Wow, you already have such advanced access even though you are not officially a mbila."

Malamu's badge gave access to certain areas of the village that were off limits to civilians.

This badge was like a passport, it contained the identity and recorded the activity of its owner. It was made of a special material, maqala, which had the appearance of coal (charcoal) and could absorb and contain mist. It was precisely on the mist that the data was written inside the maqala. The solidness of the maqala varied according to the quantity and quality of the mist that was infused into it, ranging from the hardness of steel to the softness of a modelling dough(plastiline for example). The maqala was very important in everyday life, it could be used as a construction material, for making weapons, clothing etc. A bit like the plastic of this world but more malleable and ecological (not that I give a damn about ecology). It was also a money and a currency. (Gold is more of a currency than a change, whereas $ is both)

The badge that malamu had differed from that of a civilian in that his recorded much more activity. The badges came with a series of various colours, blue for civilians, green for soldiers or anyone following martial law. The basic colours could change depending on the situation and the context. Blue would change to orange for someone who needed help or assistance, green would change to red for emergency missions for example. Yellow was for members of high office.

Only the internal affairs of the mbila could intercept a red badge holder. The name for internal affair of the village was Azimba.

"Okay, I won't ask. I guess you wanted to avoid traffic." said the member of the Azimba.

'Very interesting, he tells me he won't ask a question but then proceeds to ask me one indirectly' thought Malamu.

"Of course, otherwise I cannot complete my mission in time" Malamu responded.

The Azimba raised his eyebrow suddenly and thought, 'That tall teenager is very shrewd, he did not deny my assertion but justified it in terms of the urgency of the situation.'

One could feel a little bit of the tension of a police checking routine.

"Even though I am an Azimba I have no good reason to arrest you but I will write it down in my report." conceded the Azimba - internal affair officer.

A teenager was waiting on a building rooftop designed in the traditional Kongo/Bantu style. When a figure was moving from rooftop to rooftop and running on building walls from time to time.

"Finally. You came I was waiting for you Malamu"

"Waiting for what ? For me to come ?"

Both of them bursted in laughter. Both were darkskinned, the other one was smaller than malamu in height but bigger in size, his laugher was louder and carried a strong energy. With is white teeth fully exposed, one could feel through one's skin the assurance his laugh brought.

One could tell at a glance that they were buddies. From the intonation of their voices, speaking to each other, their body language or while they were doing high fives from time to time.

"I know that the competition will be tough at the ceremony. That's why I prepared your equipment, I had to make two or three modifications that took into account your dexterity "

Malamu was nodding in silence while the other teenager was speaking to him.

"I also know that you don't feel the pressure, you have always performed well in these kinds of moment. But this ceremony is not only extremely important for the village but also for our dream. We promised each other under the baobab tree when we were little kids that we would go beyond 'that'."

After finishing saying that, the other teenager was pointing a finger beyond the horizon before saying -

''And today, I, as your Nganga (a kind of witch doctor), am proud to help us accomplish our dream."

The village of Malamu was situated on a gigantic mountain named Mozambi (in Lingala Nzambi means God with a capital G and the prefix "mo" expresses deification other than that one God.

Other than this village there were two others on the sides of the mountain. A great mist like fog served as a strategic border between the three of them, malamu's village and the two others. This fog was mystical, made of the same element as the mist used by the Mbila. It was difficult, if not impossible, to cross the mystical fog without special means, which were usually extremely expensive in terms of materials and expertise.

In the meantime, it had to be crossed from time to time, because on the mountain there were maqala mines, an indispensable material for the good functioning and life of the inhabitants. At the bottom of the mountain this fog covered the whole perimeter, so the ordinary villagers never left their mountain.

The fog seemed to be a thorn in the foot, but little research was being done to destroy it. Foremost because it was a first line of defence between the villages and secondly against the evils that lurked beyond the fog in the forest below the mountain. In the forest monsters lurked, waiting for the slightest breach in the mystic fog.

Malamu dreamed of going beyond the fog to new lands. He knew that the world was a vast place, listening to tales and legends as a child and then through the instruction of his "aba" a desire to conquer unknown lands was born in him. He could not resign himself to being a prisoner of this mountain.

Of course he liked the life on the mountain but he could not accept to run away from the nightmares that roamed the forest. It is true that these monsters were incredibly destructive, from time to time one of them managed to slip through the mystical fog and climb the mountain but it was very rare. The last one of such occurrence came 32 years ago. When this happened the mbilas of the village were all mobilized to fight the threat.

Sometimes the three villages would join forces when nightmares climbed a place of common interest, usually the maqala mines. Otherwise, it was just an opportunity to weaken a rival indirectly, so they usually sat back and watched.

One of the villages had a leader whose ambition was to unite all the villages to create a town on the Mozambi mountain. He had participated in the crisis that took place 32 years ago. He had achieved many things for his village. Thirty-two years ago 355 monsters had infiltrated the mountain, and the villages had to unite at that time. It was there that the desire of the young Ngobi was born. Every Elder knew about his exploits in the three villages but few were willing to talk about it. Today he was an adult and the head of his village, Malamu's Aba told him that he could also have the same impact as Ngobi if he trained and educated himself. Force was not always the best weapon, diplomacy also had its role to play.

For the time being, Malamu's only objective was the Boma yé. The two figures on the roof were talking, one of them unloaded a bag containing many tools, weapons and so on.

"So can you tell me what do you know about mbilas and how their power works ?'' His friend asked

"Not again, you do this all the time." Answered Malamu

"I know, but repetition is the mother of all sciences, and we've been doing it since we were kids at the academy underneath the baobab tree''

"You play like you practice, you practice like the way you think" both spoke at the same time.

"You're right" said Malamu before continuing

"Well, I'll summarize and explain to you what a mbila is and why what we do is important. You as a Nganga and me as a mbila. But don't ask it again lol ". Malamu said with pride.

"It's only to remember the dream" his friend said.