Sunday, July 12, 2009

The appearence and disappearence of the Kankouran

The Atlas of Curiosities: Part 23

Ethiouar village, we were told, was usually not so boisterous.  It was mid morning, and while there was quite a bit of noise coming from down the hill we noticed that in the crowd a certain demographic was conspicuously absent.  Women, small children, girls and old men were gathered, but the pubescent males were not; we were told this was intentional as these young men were initiates, and were staying inside their huts in order to receive what was supposedly a harrowing visit from the Kankouran.  An elder, who had agreed to be our host, was particularly agitated, as his own son was among those set to receive the spirit. 

“My son is so odd,” our host said, “and I fear that the spirit will overwhelm him.  Each young man must let the Kankouran come, or we will all be in danger.”

The Kankouran is a certain devil, called out of the forest by an elder, who, it is said, but give up a leg and an eye to enter their lair.  The sacrifice is necessary, however, as without a visit from these devils the village would not prosper in the coming year, and the boys would not grow into men.

The spirit emerged then, from the forest, and the crowd scattered.  We watched from a distance as the leafy beast, covered entirely in foilage entered one hut and then the next, whipping the initiates with a switch.  Entering a hut near to us, we heard a shout and a scuffle, the swoosh of a whip, followed by cry of fear, and anguish.

“My son!” shouted our host, and he watched with his face twisted in fear as the hut became eerily silent.

The village became hushed and all eyes turned to the hut where our host’s son had been waiting.

Suddenly, a wind came up, and a great number of green leaves blew out of the hut and into the air.  Traveling like a river, the leaves left the vilage and flew towards the forest.  Our host rushed into the hut.  Inside, we beheld a boy, not more than 13 years old, with a thin cut across his face sitting in a pile of leaves.  He was catatonic, and did not blink as our host waved a hand in front of his face.

Our host left the hut and returned to the hill on which we had been seated earlier as a great commotion rose from around the village.  It became clear that the Kankouran had vanished, which apparently, had never happened before.  A mixture of fear, shock, grief, and curiosity gripped the village.

Worried, we asked our host what had become of his son and of the Kankouran.

“I am not sure,” our host said.  “In these days, nothing is as it used to be.”