THE LAST JOURNEY by Dela Bobobee (best classic books txt) 📕

happily waving to the excited shouts of the tourists. Only the kids were visible on the surface of the water. In spite of their age and huge size the giant crocodiles moved rather very fast in the water. They left a thin line of parted waves behind them as they sped through the water like speedboats. The whole scenario looked as if the kids were paddling underwater with their legs while the rest of their body was suspended above the water. This was the highpoint of my exhilaration. I was busy adjusting my optical and automatic zoom lens to perfectly capture this rare scenario on video.

Cameras were clicking and flashing. Some of the thrilled students have started placing bets on the expectant winner of the improvised crocodile race. As if by practice the crocodiles knew what to do, they turned round when they reached the end of the pond and appeared as if they were racing each other in the water. The kids urged them on like jockeys in a horse race. The two crocodiles raced in a synchronised manner depicting the adept movements of dolphins swimming in water. There were thunderous shouts of joy and applause when the two crocodiles safely landed the two kids simultaneously back on the starting point of the pond. The kids alighted from the back of the crocodiles and came triumphantly ashore. They were hugged and carried shoulder high by some over-excited onlookers. They became instant celebrities among the tourists who were all taking turns to shake their hands and congratulate them. They would have asked for their autographs if given the opportunity. The crowd of tourists joyously showered the kids with gift offerings of cash and anything imaginable. Some people gave the kids apples and candies while some students emotionally removed their fez caps, clothes and gave them to the kids in the fashion of football stars exchanging their team jerseys. Some were busy posing and taking pictures with the boys as if they too have become human exhibitions just like the attractive friendly crocodiles of Paga. In the process some of them were shaking hands with me smacking my back happily for providing them with another rare form of entertainment worthy of their tortuous long journey to Paga. This event has turned into another side attraction to the main festival that was due the next day. The guides helped the kids to collect their handful of gifts and cash offerings. They promised to share it equally among them later. Everybody, including me left that place convinced that crocodiles could be that friendly.

I planned to stay in Paga overnight because the next day I needed to cover some background preparations of the oncoming festival. There were other side attractions like the Slave Market, the Kukula Mystery Dam and Natural Game Reserves. I considered the choice to spend the night at the visitors’ centre, Kubs Lodge or trek a walking distance of about a hundred meters to the Ghana - Burkina Faso International Border Post. Other tourists who preferred better accommodation services left for the nearby towns of Navrongo or Bolgatanga. I took a quick bath and took my evening meal after which I scanned through the photographs I took in the course of day’s events. Satisfied that they were all good shots I tucked the digital camera away and grabbed the camcorder. I switched on the playback mode and appraised my footages through the LCD screen. They were also good shots taken from varying appropriate camera angles.

That night, one would have thought that based on the level of my tiredness I would have drifted into sleep immediately my head touched the pillow. On the contrary, I lay on my bed very exhausted but found it difficult to sleep. I thought about the dramatic events that transpired during the course of the day. I also rummaged in my mind for some logical explanations to what I witnessed. The extremely tamed and strange behaviours of the crocodiles were too incredible to believe. Naturally speaking, everyone knows that crocodiles are not vegetarians, they are carnivorous by nature. In fact, the mere mention of crocodile strikes fears in almost everyone who regards them as dangerous predators.

Indeed crocodiles are very dangerous in their natural habitats. It therefore still remains a mystery how these Nile crocodiles of Paga have become harmless and very friendly to humans. The experience in Paga has thought me that the crocodile, regarded in many parts of the world, as one of the most uncompromising and wild creatures that can cope with water and land conditions, is indeed an intriguing animal. It is interesting; both in its variety and life's existence, the way it has shown remarkable contrasting natures. Whether in Paga where it is a friendly and participatory creature or in the marshy wetlands of the Okavango waterways or in the wild Amazon forest or even in the generality of conception of crocodile as a dangerous prey not to be tempered with, the crocodile has proven conclusively that man and creature can co-exist humbly for the benefit of both.

Crocodiles are wild creatures but not the ones in Paga. In Paga, the local citizens have over the years mastered the art of taming crocodiles and this has become a huge tourist attraction today. It is very amazing how these Paga crocodiles have simultaneously portrayed flexibility and resilience in the long history of mutual habitation between the people of Paga and their friendly counterpart, crocodile. But after the end of my last journey to Paga I no longer wonder how it all began. There may be many circumstances and favourable conditions that precipitated the beginning of this mutual co-existence between man and beasts. The creation story of a paradise where man actually was mandated by God to have dominion over all animals, might indeed be considered as the only possible answer to these baffling questions. Many mythological and totemic relationships span the long history of the inhabitants of Paga and the crocodile.

However, I asked myself what was the fun or point in one life (chicken) being wasted for a chance to take a photograph with a crocodile? It does not make any sense to me. But it does make sense. Paga is no Serengeti nor is Boabeng Fiemma any Disney Land, but a very fine example of community based ecotourism in Ghana. For Paga people, it is a passionate, truthful and solemn fact that crocodile belief makes life possible for the people. Indeed, it is a customary offence to harm, kill or show any sign of disrespect to the crocodile of Paga. As if in response, the crocodiles have thrived and perpetuated a friendly existence, which still remains a marvel to many tourists and visitors. It is normal for the people of Paga and a miracle to outsiders to see children riding on the back of the crocodiles in the various dams and even more common to see tourists holding crocodile tails or even sitting on them.

 

Pinkworo Rocks of Fear

Early in the morning of next day, I left for the nearby Nania Slave Camp about three kilometres from Paga. It was a slave transit camp and relics of the slave trade are still found in this village. During the ancient period Nania developed into a trading centre for Hausa, Mossi and Zambrama traders. Nania became the first stopover and auction market for slaves captured in Mossi and surrounding lands from the 16th century. This is the main site on the Upper East slave route. Slaves bought in Nania were resold in the Salaga market. I needed to see for myself and so I went there. The market was situated in a rocky area referred to as "Pinkworo" (Rocks of Fear). I noticed with fascination that what survives today is a rock outcrop that was used as an observation post by the raiders. I observed some water troughs formed in the rocks. I was told that the captured slaves drank water from these troughs. I also saw a couple of grinding stones and indents in the rocks, where slaves ground cereals for food. Hand and foot marks stamped by irate slaves could still be found on the "Pinkworo".

Suddenly I noticed a swift blurred movement by my side. I whirled quickly to see what it was. I quickly looked sideways but neither saw nor heard anything. Instinctively I knew something was amiss. I heard whispers and footsteps but saw nothing, the rocks looked empty. I became very alert. The hair on my neck bristled in premonition like the hackles of an agitated dog. I decided that perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me. I remembered that the name of this rock is Pinkworo, the Rocks of Fear. Indeed fear gripped me when I noticed two distinct rock platforms positioned in place like a dais. As if propelled by an invisible force, my legs were dragged to the platforms. I raised one leg and placed it on one of the platforms and instantly I saw myself whirling through time into another age.

What I saw there was very amazing. I saw ancient men and women living a very peaceful and serene and a very clean environment. I noticed excellent health and vitality radiating from their friendly demeanour. Their lithe bodies were athletic and portrayed strength and agility. I noticed that they were vegetarians as their meals consisted only of fruits and water. Another amazing thing I noticed was that their domestic animals coexisted peacefully with what we now know as predatory wild animals. The young lambs, zebras and rodents were playing and lying close to lions, tigers, cheetahs and jaguars. The scenario could only be imagined to depict the creation story of paradise in the original Garden of Eden. Suddenly I felt a powerful wave of nostalgia as if I have always belonged there and my whole being longed to live among these peaceful and healthy looking ancient people. They might have noticed my presence as all their heads looked in my direction at once. A tensed moment of silence elapsed before one of the elderly men among them beckoned to me to come forth. Happily I made an attempt to move a step towards them, but instantly my other leg touched the second rock platform the scene changed abruptly.

I was yet again whirled through time into another age in time. This time the scene was the direct opposite of what I saw the first time. What I saw was nothing compared to the earlier gentle scenario. This time around everywhere I looked there was chaos, a complete anarchical setting. Nature seemed to be at war, men were callously taunting, killing, maiming, hunting and eating the animals. Some animals were hunted in cold blood by the men, not for food but all in the name of sport. In a very pitiable scene I saw a couple of maimed and tusk-less elephants and walruses crying out in agonizing shrieks and running helter-skelter as their tusks were forcefully hacked from their heads with sharp objects. Some of the animals on their part were lashing back at the men, some were seen chasing and preying on humans.

Most of the animals became wild predators and preyed on other animals. So also were the humans, they were hunting one another in senseless cold blood; some were captured and enslaved while some even turned into cannibals. Human predators were preying on fellow humans in uncontrollable genocide feuds. One of the human predators suddenly sniffed the air suspiciously, turned and noticed my presence. He looked up and glared at me from where he was feeding on a human carcass. His mouth was bloody. I flinched as he barred his vampire fangs at me. He hastily got up to his feet, growled and rushed towards me. Fear gripped me, I cringed and quickly moved a step back but as I lifted my leg from the other rock platform the scene changed instantly into the present. I saw myself again alone on the Pinkworo, the Rocks of Fear.

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