A run-in with Sande society business

I just received the following email from a reader (who asked to remain anonymous) in response to an excerpt I posted from Tim Kelsall’s new book.

“Giving Kola” [...] brought back a memory from my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Nimba.

I was an Inland Fisheries Volunteer so we had motorcycles.  I was coming back home from a long day of aquaculture extension activity (drinking palm wine and shooting the breeze with some of my most innovative fish farmers) and I was passing through a rubber tree grove when I noticed a line of people in the distance walking up the road.  My first thought was, these folks are returning from their Ku (farm work party).  As I got closer my engine died.  Very strange. . .  I got off the motorcycle and checked to see if I had flipped the gas valve off or something.  Everything looked normal.  About that time the line of people reached my spot in the road.

It was a group of ancient looking women.  I spoke to them in my best Mano, asking them how they were and if they were coming from their farm. They were very kind and cordial, but I did not fully understand their answer.  Then I noticed. . . The lead woman had a turtle shell, nearly as ancient as she looked.  This could mean only one thing, Sande society business.  She held out her hand for a hand shake, supporting her arm with her other hand by holding it nearly at the wrist (a sign of deep respect).  I was compelled by custom to shake her hand.  But I was a little scared.  I took off my helmet and my sweat seemed unnaturally cold.  These old ladies were not what they seemed.  I did a micro-second debate in my head and decided NOT to take off my leather glove.  I shook her hand and then gave the old but sprightly lady a nickel.  She held the nickel to her forehead and did a little jig and then they continued down the road chattering among themselves.

I was left there alone with my broken down motorcycle.  I thought to myself, “you have been living in the bush too long, you are getting spooky”.  As I contemplated walking the machine another mile to my house, I thought what the heck, I’ll give it another try.  I hopped on and gave it a kick start, the engine engaged as if nothing at all had been wrong with it in the first place.  Spooky!