Anderson was the director of Major Oilcompany Corporation. They had found oil in the deep of the Cameroon wilderness. A tribe was living there. They called them selves the Magobgies, but Anderson didn’t really care.They had to be removed, of course. Not really a problem.
Paying off the right amount of higher politicians they got their way. No one would mingle in their affairs. The oil would be theirs. As it should be. Progress was the way. The tribal communities belonged to the past. Capitalism was the future. They went in to start the work. They had workers, government soldiers and a private American security company.
The chief refused to leave. Some of the tribesmen picked up their spears. As if to protect their territory. Anderson was amused by their naive innocence. It wasn’t theirs anymore. It was the territory of Major Oilcompany Corporation. They had bought it. Paid for it. It was theirs. The chief told Andersen he would rather die than leave his homeland. Andersen gave a signal. An order were given by the leader of the security team. The chief was shot dead. The rest of the tribe surrendered.
Ga’bomba was so sad. All of his fifteen year long life he’d spent on the tribe territory. He had a great love and respect for his chief. There was nothing they could do. As they were packing their very scarce possessions, the workers had already started digging. They tore down the holy hill of sacrifice. Ga’bomba and many others cried. The witch doctor watched. He didn’t say a word. Ga’bomba saw great pain in his eyes. They were stacked into trucks an moved away.
The work started shortly after. Anderson went out there one of the first days of drilling. Everything went well. Soon beautiful oil would flow from the wells. Money. Money was the key to happiness, thought Anderson.
In a dry desert the tribe was given other land. Ga’bomba did not see how they were going to survive in a place like this. That night he and the witch doctor sat by the bound fire. Is there nothing we can do? He asked. The witch doctor told him a story. A story about a time when the peoples of Africa were in charge of their own land. Before the system of the white man destroyed everything.
The men from far away where looking for something hidden under the holy land of the Magobgies, he told Ga’bomba. It had a great value, but also a great cost. It gave the owner power, but it destroyed the balance of nature. It killed plants and animals, and poisoned the air. That’s why the Magobgies did not want to move it from under the ground. That was why the land covering it was made holy.
The darkness in the ground would now be pulled up. There was no way to avoid it. They had to use these dark forces to get their land back.
At the site everything were going as planned. Andersen were there to make sure everything went as planned. The equipment was already in place. They started drilling.
Nearby the old witch doctor was holding a ceremony. Some objects where thrown to the ground. Some herbs were burned. A song was sung, at first silently, almost impossible to hear. Then stronger and stronger.
Andersen was watching how the drill was going down into the ground. The men had done a good job. A local company owned by one of the ministers had torn the ridiculous village down and his men had put up the drill effectively. The drill stopped for a moment. A strange sound reached his ear. Like someone singing. He didn’t really make much notice at first, but the song became stronger. Fuck, what if it was those stupid tribesmen sneaking around? He didn’t want that, they would probably be up to some kind of sabotage. He was about to call on the security to hunt them down when the earth started trembling. Earthquake?
We got something! The chief driller said.
Already? Said Anderson. Strange.
Smoke came up from the drilling hole. Dark smoke. It smelled of death. Natural gas shouldn’t smell of death. Something is wrong, director! Said the drilling leader. Anderson moved closer.
The smoke got thicker. It took form. An evil face stared out from the deep darkness within. A face of fire and destruction. Panic broke out amongst the workers. Andersen started walking backwards, moving away from the smoke. The fright crept up his spine. He wanted to turn, to run. A hand struck out of the darkness. Caught him. Claws dug into his body. Lifted him up. He could feel his flesh rot but was unable to die. The pain was beyond anything of this world. The security soldiers were firing into the dark cloud with no effect. Andersen died screaming.
An evil laughter rumbled over the land. The dark claws cut the soldiers into pieces. As blood flooded, the workers ran. Soon the field where abandoned. The monster dissolved into the air.
It’s over, said the witch doctor when he got back to the tribe. We can go home now. Others will come. We’ll have to keep fighting. Some day our enemy will disappear, although it will take generations. One day this world will be free again.