The travails and rewards of an international career  once gave me the privilege 
                  to live on the bank of the magnificent Congo River, in  Mbandaka. 
                  From my little house, I admired the solemnity of men  and women on canoes or 
                  floating villages. Some had left Kisangani. Others  headed toward Ikela. Some 
                  others would reach areas up or downstream along the  mighty river. I became 
                  hypnotized by the sheer power and serenity of the  Congo, not as a passing 
                  tourist, but as a resident who shared the life and  dreams of locals. 
                My attraction to the scenery went beyond the superb  beauty of the mythical 
                  river. Even though I was a child of "Rio dos  Camarões", born on the shores of 
                  the Wouri River in Douala, I shared with the peoples  living on both sides of the 
                  Congo the same Bantu cosmogony; I liked the same  cuisine based on cassava, 
                  cassava leaves, fish from streams and rivers, meats  and more leaves; 
                  I loved and danced to the same music and rhythms; the  mysterious but 
                  astonishing beauty of a geography that stretched from  Brazzaville to Yaoundé, 
                  from Bangui to Gbadolite, or from Moamba to Lambaréné  continued to 
                  reinforce my soul with the necessary dose of fear,  respect and passion for our 
                  mighty equatorial forest; and so many other turns and  twists of our beautiful 
                  languages and complex history gave to diversity a  meaning that challenged 
                  common knowledge, and made unity a most challenging  praxis. 
                All this would have been much simpler if only rivers  such as the Congo, the  
                  Wouri or the Sanaga could narrate the history these  mighty serpents have been  
                  witnessing and silently swallowing throughout the  ages. 
                But history is never that simple. 
                Congo,  Sanaga... 
                Waking up one morning on the bank of the Congo River,  I noticed that a 
                  crocodile had sneaked out of the river, crawling  around the little house built on 
                  a slope diving straight into the water. Spontaneously,  this incident reminded me 
                  of my friend, the great Mozambican painter, sculptor  and poet Malangatana 
                  Valente Ngwenya (5 June 1936 - 5 January 2011). Near  the village of Matalana, 
                  a crocodile appeared on the river bank where his  mother had just gone into 
                  labour. Isolated and lonely, she gave birth to  Malangatana, but the mother 
                  and her baby were never harmed by the crocodile. After  the boy's delivery, the 
                  crocodile quietly returned underneath the mangrove. A  legend was born. The 
                  boy was named Ngwenya by villagers. Ngwenya means  crocodile in Shangaan. 
                  It has the same meaning in most Bantu languages from  the East Coast to the 
                  West Coast of Africa, even though with different  formulations or intonations here 
                  or there. In parts of South Africa, a crocodile is  called "ingwenya". In parts of 
                  Cameroon, is it called "ngan" or "ngando". 
                Years later, I traveled with my wife Jacqueline to  Brazzaville. We ventured 
                  deeper along another bent of the Congo, and once  again, another crocodile 
                  appeared. This site on the river had something  special. It eerily reminded me of 
                  a site on the bank of Cameroon's Sanaga River,  precisely in Edea, where with 
                  other school children we would hang on trees and watch  crocodiles from a 
                  safe distance. Two locations, two countries, two river  cultures, but the food was 
                  the same in both. In the Congo, the scents and taste  of fish in maboke were 
                  the same as fish in ndomba in Cameroon. Cassava  leaves, whether pondou or 
                  kpem, had the same popular appeal in  both countries. Maybe Congo's 
                  chikwanga was heavier  than Cameroon's miondo or bobolo, but all three 
                  cassava side dishes tasted and smelled identically.  While Joseph Kabasele (Le 
                  Grand Kallé) heralded in the 60s the love or rumba by  Africans with 
                  Independance cha cha, a hit in  Cameroon and on both sides of the Congo, 
                  Cameroon's Eboa Lottin's music was cherished and has  remained very popular 
                  among Congolese fans, thanks to songs such as Matumba  Matumba 
                (Munyengé mwa ngando). 
                As we visited Brazzaville, we were amazed by the  remarkable paintings of the 
                  people of the river. When we met my former schoolmate  and friend Nicolas 
                  Bissek in Venice, Italy, he must have been inspired by  the spices, the myths and 
                  the history that waterways carry from one continent to  the next. He explained to 
                  me and Jacqueline why he was so attracted by the magic  of these river artists. 
                  Bissek, from Cameroon, had published two remarkable  and very beautiful books 
                  on the subject. After "Les Peintres du Fleuve  Congo" (Sepia, 1995), he authored 
                  in 2003 "Les Peintres de l'Estuaire"  (Karthala). Dr Édith Lucie Bongo Ondimba (10 
                  March 1964 - 14 March 2009), the First Lady of Gabon  as the wife of President  
                  Omar Bongo from 1990 to 2009 who wrote the second  book's foreword, thanked 
                  Bissek for having brought to light and exhibited the  unique talent of these painters. 
   The author  focused on the paintings of some of the word's most inspiring 
                  and mysterious rivers and estuaries: Congo, Ogoué,  Oubangui, Sanaga, Wouri.... 
                The history, myths and rites of these great rivers  must be what inspired the  
                  Peintres du Fleuve Congo and the Peintres de  l'Estuaire most. The talent of 
                  painters from the School of Painting of Poto-Poto in  Brazzaville - Boukou, Dzon 
                  Iloki, Mahoungou, Mangouandza, Mpo, Mayaoulou,  Ngaloutsou, Ngampio, 
                  Opou, Sita- is bound, driven and fuelled by the same  traditions, beliefs, and 
                  cultural aesthetics that are also shared by painters  from Gabon - Félix Benoît 
                  Arsenault, Georges Mbourou, Marcellin Monko Minzé,  Walker Onewin, Robert 
                  Oyono, or those painters from Cameroon such as Blaise  Mbang, Emati, Nazaire 
                  Kolo, Francis Mbella, Othéo, and Hervé Youmbi. Bissek  has shown in his books 
                  that the sacred waters of those rivers run into their  creative veins, whether in 
                  Cameroon, Congo or Gabon. 
                Stanley,  Livingstone, Mungo, Nachtigal 
                First to explore Cameroon, the Carthaginians in the  5th Century BC were initially 
                  mesmerized by the extraordinary geography. Having  perceived from the Gulf of 
                  Guinea the active volcano of Mount Cameroon and its  shape, they called the 
                  country "The Chariot of the Gods". Many  centuries later, Portuguese sailors called 
                  it "Rio dos Camarões" or the River of the  Shrimps, having been swamped by 
                  abundant Lepidophthalmus turneranus, a variety of  shrimp in the Wouri River. 
                The same places, history, epic stories, myths, wealth,  beauty, inspiration, gravitas, 
                  mystery must have similarly left a great impact on  those individuals who were 
                  not artists themselves, but strived to achieve other  goals. Many were explorers, 
                  travelers, envoys, adventure seeking men, wealth  hungry sailors, soldiers, civil 
                  servants, preachers, servants of God, kings or chiefs.  They came to the Gulf of 
                  Guinea or Congo Basin from far away lands. Some came  from other regions 
                  of Africa. Some were locals facing a fast changing  world. These historic figures 
                  would travel across the rivers and deep in the forests  of the region. 
                Children, counties, cities, rivers, falls, treaties  and capitals were given their 
                  names. Those names would indeed fill history books:  Mungo Park, Henri Morton 
                  Stanley, David Livingstone, Major Hans Dominik, Gustav  Nachtigal, King Douala 
                  Manga Bell, Makoko Iloo Ier, Omgba Bissogo, King  Leopold II, Paul Du Chaillu, 
                  Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza.... 
                These personalities, no matter how epic, and human  beings nonetheless, would 
                  have had their souls affected one way or the other by  other human beings, orby  
                  mighty mountains, great rivers, thunderous falls and  mysterious forests in ways 
                  they least expected. Europeans, Americans or Africans,  German, French, Italian, 
                  or British, Teke, Baham, Duala, Ewondo, or Baka, Fang,  Myene, Punu, Nzebi or 
                  Mpongwe, their deep fibers must have yielded to or at  least echoed the spirits 
                  that come alive in the painting that was born from a  dream. The artists of the 
                  School of Painting of Poto-Poto managed to beautifully  translate it into a unique 
                  and lively painting. It now proudly hangs -almost as  if it was a subliminal treaty 
                  between those who feature therein, on the walls of its  permanent resting home, 
                  the National Museum of Cameroon, itself a building  that results from the travails 
                  of history. 
                Brazza,  Makoko, Chariots... 
                The painting is the sum of the contributions from  individual human beings from 
                  diverse cultural backgrounds. The painting, its  making, its donation and its deep 
                  meaning ends up unifying dreams and fates from  different horizons, in a way 
                  that is subtle, positive and aesthetically universal.  Here, unity is no longer an 
                  elusive goal. It is the very discourse that transcends  the warm colors, creative 
                  and spiritual shapes in the magnificent painting. 
                The painting also tells us that Makoko Iloo may well  have seen in Savorgnan de 
                  Brazza, much more than a white explorer. Brazza must  have been appreciated 
                  first and foremost as a human being, the humanist he  were, a brother maybe. 
                  The same could be said of the Italian. He must have  seen something great in 
                  Makoko Iloo, something greater than an African king,  probably a honest,  
                  dignified human being. The explorer's entourage that  included Ballay, Chavannes, 
   and Attilio  Pecile witnessed and lived through a truly unique historic experience. 
                  Their first take on the event was not to underline the  geo-strategic losses or gains. 
                  Jacques de Brazza, the explorer's younger brother, who  was present, narrated 
                  the scene: "The place was crowded. The reception  was held in the royal 
                  precinct, tents were set up for shade, but there were  too many people, so with 
                  their rifles mouth down and open butts, Mpoco N’taba  men propped brass forks 
                  atop large red wool carpets shaped like a roof. That’s  where I enjoyed one of 
                  the most beautiful scenery, it was a picture in its  own right, from which Fortuni 
                  would have removed one of his many bright coloured,  limpid scenes. All this 
                  black crowd, dressed in multicoloured loincloth each  covered with their own 
                  fetishes: antelope horns, lion teeth, cock feathers,  was amazing”. 
                One can sense comparison, excitement, surprise,  respect, amazement, and a 
                  genuine recognition of another culture's values,  organization, and greatness. 
                Why was this possible? It could simply be that the  profound impact of the natural 
                  environment and humanity on hearts and souls had  liquefied individual, ethnic, 
                  racial, national and cultural differences into a  timeless and ever evolving river 
                  made of history, geography, and diversity. It is  precisely this spirit that brings 
                  Cameroonian together, in spite of their diversity. The  value they see in these 
                  differences encourages Cameroonians, whose blessed  country includes all 
                  shades of Africa and the continent’s geography, to  further cherish their diversity 
                  and promote unity. From Mount Cameroon to the Kapsiki,  from Nachtigal to the 
                  spectacular Lobé falls near Kribi, from Buea to Bafia,  from Ndo Missomba to the 
                  Petpenoun, from the legend of Afo-a-Kom to the  legendary Manu Dibango, 
                  from ndomba to mintumba dishes, from miondo to bobolo,  from makossa to 
                  mangabeu, and from Eboa Lottin to Messi me Nkonda,  from Mora to 
                  Nguelemendouka, from Mount Manengouba to the Adamawa  Plateau, one 
                  would hope that the positive spirits that stay awake  day and night in this painting 
                  will continue to allow the Chariot of the Gods to  firmly ride the path of unity. 
                After all, the timeliness of unique human beings, the  majesty of sacred mountains, 
                  the power of mighty rivers, the cement of friendship  that one finds in a shared meal  
                  and treaty, the epic dimension of the crocodile, and  the myths immortalized by travelers,  
                  story tellers and artists are far superior to the  politics of greed, division or abject materialism. 
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