By Lex Mucache
Black, defy thought and use
the thought to challenge the world…
Midó das Dores
At the end of the 21st century, a group of young people began a sequence of clandestine meetings on Mount Chinhamapere in Manica. They climbed the path at dawn, with the stars overhead as their only witnesses. They often followed in single file, singing ancestral songs, wielding torches that looked like reverberating comets. Every morning they would rise from the top of the mountain and descend the gorge quietly. The beaming faces seemed to reborn into a new existence. After that, they would sneak to their homes. And this was repeated almost every day.
One day, when they went to the mountain, they were surprised by a police contingent. The entire area surrounding Chinhamapere was fenced off. Had anyone died? Gondo, the leader of the group, approached and enquired the head of the contingent.
“We are here by instructions of the administrator”, the agent in charge said. “And you, what business do you have here?”
Gondo did not deign to answer. He turned his back and, along with his group, descended the gorge, leaving behind, at the top of the hill, a dozen suspicious agents.
The administrator was surprised by the unexpected visit when the sun rose in the district of Manica. It was his daughter, Narita, accompanied by a good-looking young man.
“Welcome!”, he said, still unable to disguise his surprise.
They moved into the spacious office. The administrator was gesturing vibrantly, happy to see his daughter, so he wanted to know:
“To what do I owe the honour of this pleasant visit, dear? And who is he?”
“He’s Gondo.” Narita replied.
The father raised his eyebrow. That name rang on the walls of his consciousness like an unwanted palpitation. He sat down slowly. The cheerful semblance that had just nourished his countenance disappeared. The administrator was aware that Gondo was the leader of the gang that was plotting in Chinhamapere, threatening the tranquillity of the entire District. He was startled to see his daughter in such company. Without holding back, he asked her:
“And you, daughter, what are you doing with him?”
“Gondo is my mentor”, Narita replied bluntly.
A nervous smile invaded his pursed lips: with which then, his little girl was also part of that gang. This thought made him rise abruptly from his comfortable seat and make his way to Gondo.
“A good opportunity to have you arrested.”
The administrator could not hide the gesture of disapproval, the disgust he felt for that uncomfortable presence, so he ordered:
“Get out of here now, before I have you arrested.”
“But you don’t even know what I’ve come for.”, Gondo said calmly.
The dialogue continued, without reaching a consensus. Gondo demanded the constitutional right to assembly, and the administrator countered by saying that the time at which such meetings took place was suspicious, and that if they really wanted to do so, they would have to do it in broad daylight, always observing the respect due to that sacred space.
“It will be as you say”, Gondo agreed.
“By the way, what do you guys do there? Do you pray?”, the administrator wanted to know.
“That too.”, Gondo replied, without hesitation. “But most of the time, we eat and chat.”
“Chatting in the mountains, like lepers…”, the administrator joked. Since, Chinhamapere, comes from the term Mapere, which means leprosy in Cimanyka, for that mountain, in times gone by, served as a refuge for lepers.
Because it comes in threes, and nothing can stop an obstinate will, the next day the young people gathered on Mount Chinhamapere at noon. But they were followed by the same police contingent as the other time. That’s when the unusual event took place, which would bring the entire administration to a nervous breakdown. It so happened that, once they reached the top of the mountain, the group of young men disappeared without a trace.
Then, in the administrator’s office, the atmosphere was one of tension and distrust. The officers couldn’t believe what their own eyes had experienced. It was inexplicable. Incredulous, the administrator looked deep into the eyes of the head of the operation – asking for confirmation.
“It’s true, Your Excellency”, the head of operations said. “We couldn’t figure it out, the fact is that we were following the elements and we were right behind them, but as soon as they reached the top of Chi, there was a flash that blinded us, and soon after, they disappeared.”
“You mean they were swallowed by the rock, is that what you’re saying?”, the administrator commented sarcastically.
“We have no explanation for what happened, they just vanished”, the officer concluded.
“They were abducted?”, the administrator insisted.
“I’d say they’ve broken the concept of space and time, that’s all I can say.”
“A travel through time! That is the last straw.”
The administrator asked for the telephone, his hands trembled, because his daughter was also on that expedition, not least because attempts to persuade her to move away from that group had fallen on deaf ears. He called the capital.
Immediately, help arrived from Maputo: archaeologists, physicists, historians, philosophers, mathematicians and a number of journalists; accompanied by a Zimbabwean and South African entourage with strange machinery. Quickly, they placed a tent in Chinhamapere and the place went from a simple secluded plateau to a center of scientific research.
They made excavations, used various measuring instruments and capturing sound, light, movement, heat; They searched molecule by molecule, but found no trace of human presence or passage through those days. At the top of Chinhamapere, researchers stared in amazement at the cave paintings: made of vermilion and orange, there was the art of hunters and gatherers; displaying scenes of hunting and combat, and other signs of praise and admiration for nature and life. The researchers were outraged: had the primitives imprinted on the images a kind of spell or a secret or a hyper-advanced technology?
They listed all kinds of theories, from the most realistic: a door, a window, a canal, a secret tunnel, any hole that would allow circulation in that room; to the most fantastic: electromagnetic fields, illusionism, black magic… but, of all the hypotheses raised, the one that had the most adherents was that of the existence of an invisible time portal.
So, they assumed that there was little to do but wait for the return of the hikers, who were the only ones capable of clearing up the contraption behind the whole paradox.
* * *
Meanwhile, Gondo, Narita, and the other thirty-one members stood before a large crowd of people of different tribes, ethnicities, and races. They were in a valley that was crossed by a multi-coloured river. A sun released delicate rays that gently flooded the space. Suddenly, familiar faces began to appear.
“Wonderful!”, Gondo exclaimed, enraptured.
The fascination of those present was remarkable, as those who appeared were none other than the most resonant faces of African blackness: Eduardo Mondlane, Samora Machel, Kwame Nkrumah, Tomas Sankara, Patrice Lumumba, Amilcar Cabral, Agostinho Neto, among others. Meanwhile, one of the elders took the lead in a kind of pulpit and softly began to speak.
“Children of the earth, I greet you, our mission is far from over. Today, more than ever, you are called to resume our struggle: to completely liberate the African continent. Freedom!”
The voice echoed on the vast plain and among the innumerable stars in the vault of that sky. Then the thousands of guests responded in chorus: freedom, freedom, freedom. Everyone shouted, sang and danced in tremendous joy.
After that feast, and receiving the proper guidance, the groups that were formed were taken by a kind of epiphany, from which a body of knowledge was incorporated into them. In the end, everyone went to their respective portals, it was time to return, they couldn’t even tell how many hours, or days, or weeks or months they had spent in that mysterious place.
* * *
In Manica, more precisely in Chinhamapere, rays of light set the room on fire with an intense glow, momentarily sparking those present. Thus, they were unable to see the re-emergence of the group of young people who, after literally being spat out by the mountain, walked serenely beyond the Chinhamapere plateau.
Originally published in “Espíritos Quânticos: uma jornada por histórias de África em ficção especulativa (volume 1)”, 2022
