An Evening with The Kankurang!
Ansumana assumed instant ownership of any road, path or bush track on whatever mode of transport he chose to take. On this particular occasion I was seated on the pillion seat of his Baotian Superstar gazing at the galaxy of stars above whilst being expertly conveyed through the bush from Walikunda to Darsilameh at one o'clock in the morning.
I remembered how on one occasion Ansu had hailed a share taxi, in busy Westfield, driven by a young man who did not appear to know how to drive. Berating him for his incompetence Ansu ordered him out of the driver's seat and banished him to the back seat whilst Ansu took the wheel and weaved his way skilfully to our destination. He liked to be in charge. It felt quite odd to pay a taxi driver who had been ordered to become an ordinary passenger. Policemen were generally dismissed with a disdainful wave of the hand, belligerent ferry operatives were given lessons on how to park vehicles, gelegele drivers were continually instructed with Ansu's own interpretation of the highway code. Nothing and no one stood in his way.
So traveling across the moonlit bush on a sandy track in the early hours posed no immediate threat as long as my dear friend was driving. I'm not sure many hapless mis-adventurers like myself have experienced the privilege of nothingness. Nothingness in the sense of no rules, no streetlights, no particular path, no schedule, no arrival time, no sense of being beholden to anyone or anything. The kind of freedom that only dawns upon you in the moment, creeping up on you unawares, and before you know it, it has etched itself into your memory forever. Just a simple ride on the back of a bike from one remote village to another remote village. Absolute freedom.
But there are other things that can creep up on you unawares in the dead of night out of the bush...
An apparition of a moving tree flashed in front of the headlight, which surprisingly on this occasion was working.
'What the hell is THAT Ansu!?'
An animated orange ochre coloured tree was running towards us holding two large flashing cutlasses, it's bark and leaves shuddering threateningly towards us. Ansu was completely unfazed by this unexpected experience, one which might leave some European visitors seeking long term counselling in Tanka Tanka.
'Is Kankurang, is Kankurang!'.
Ansu manoeuvred the motorbike slowly toward the dazzling spectre of our unexpected guest.
'So there is programme?' he asked quietly.
Some hushed words and mumbling followed. So The Kankurang could speak, well at least this one could. I sat perplexed wondering if all this was really happening. This was the mysterious figure, carved from the Fara Tree bark and tradition, entrusted to bring young boys from childhood toward adulthood. The entity that performed the traditional rites of ceremonial circumcision. A genuine wild, on duty, in the bush Kankurang. Mumbling continued. Perhaps he told Ansu to watch out for fear-stricken stray children emerging from the bush, but whatever was said we both emerged from the encounter physically unscathed.
Well you just never know what you're going to bump into in the Gambian bush. It just doesn't happen in Exeter where I come from, or anywhere else in Europe for that matter, not ever. But as all Gambians know, 'is normal' in The Gambia.
Meeting up with a real life working in-situ Kankurang also etched itself into my memory forever, so much so that I have become a great admirer of the machete wielding tree spirit manifestation. And also his phantom associates The Hunting, The Bundu, The Kumpo Ghost and The Zimba Masquerade. Forgive me if I am mistaken in any way but after many visits to The Janjanbureh Kankurang Festival I am still getting to know them. A truly spectacular introduction to the heritage of the intangible past enacted before your very eyes.
So what better way to thank the good people of Janjanbureh for staging this event than to present them with a life size Kankurang crafted by a local person. The Kankurang statue that once stood in his 'home' museum now resides in the National Museum and he looks very impressive. I tracked down the man who made him, one Taka Titi, a well-known character throughout The Gambia, but regrettably the great man passed away just a few weeks after I contacted him. Thus I am now sourcing a suitable craftsperson to make a Kankurang. My thanks in tracking down the suitable maker go to Hassoum Ceesay of The National Museum, Kebba Sillah and Musa Foon. Negotiations are currently underway and nearing completion.
Things don't always go to plan, do they? But I'm hoping that in early January there will be a new life-size Kankurang standing proudly outside the Janjanbureh Museum for all to admire at the 2026 Festival. Should this occur, then it would probably be environmentally advisable to procure some Fara Tree (Camel's Foot) saplings to plant somewhere safe and secure. Their numbers are apparently dwindling. Perhaps in The National Museum garden Mr Ceesay?
We shall see ... and if all goes well with The Kankurang then it would be my plan to commission the making of surely the most frightening character of them all, The Zimba, pictured above. Maybe next year.
(Photo shows The Kankurang currently standing at The National Museum accompanied by the Traveling Toubabo)
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