Memoirs of a Porcupine

by Alain Mabanckou

  I left my master with his other self, the two of them lying on the last mat Mama Kibandi ever wove, at break of day I returned to the foot of the same palm tree where I’d caught the palm wine tapper mixing sugar in the gourd and spitting into it, slowly I climbed to the top and hid there, a few centimeters from the hanging gourds, which were filled to overflowing with palm wine, the bees were already having a party up there, I saw Moudiongui arrive, he seemed quite anxious, his eyes darting about, he couldn’t understand how my master had found out about his little fiddle, I saw him arranging the ropes he used to climb up to the top of the palm tree, up he climbed, up and up, but halfway up he paused to look about him, as though to make sure no one had spotted him, then, reassured, he went on climbing, he was almost at the gourds, and when he looked up, bless my quills, found himself looking into my dark, glistening eyes, it was too late for him, I’d already fired two of my quills, hitting him full in the face, the old man slipped, tried in vain to grab the branch of a paradise tree just next to the palm tree, I heard him fall, and land like a sack of potatoes down below, his legs and arms spread wide, the villagers found him there a day later, eyes wide open, his face locked in a rictus, and everyone agreed he had grown too old to tap palm wine, he should really have retired long ago, and now a young person from Séképembé must be trained up to take over his work

  the problem with Youla was he owed my master money, I think this must be one of our most heartbreaking episodes to date because now I really think about it, it was the thing which ultimately brought about Kibandi’s downfall, but I need to tell you the whole thing more slowly, after completing this mission I felt uneasy, I kept seeing the victim’s face, his innocence, I really felt Kibandi had gone a bit too far this time, but then did I have a right to tell him how I felt, it’s not for a double to judge or argue, and certainly not let his own remorse get in the way of things, and as far as I was concerned this was one of the most gratuitous acts we had committed, Youla was father of a happy family, a modest peasant with no education and not much success, he had a wife who loved him and had just had a child by him, a baby whose eyes were barely yet open, and then, one day, I don’t know why, this business of the debt between him and Kibandi cropped up, Youla had been to see him to borrow money, a ridiculously small sum which he said he’d pay back the next week, it seems he wanted to buy some medicine for his child and swore he would pay back the full sum by the agreed day, he grovelled, went down on bended knee, wept, because no one had been prepared to lend him this pitiful sum, Kibandi did him the favour, though his own finances were dwindling from year to year now that he’d given up carpentry, and the notes he gave Youla were so dirty and crumpled, they looked like they’d come straight out of the bin, and a week went by, no visitor to the hut, another week, still Youla didn’t show up, he’d dropped out of circulation, my master thought correctly that he must have done a runner, so he went to his home two months later, and told him if he didn’t give him his money back things would get nasty between them, and as the man was drunk that day he began sniggering and insulting Kibandi, telling him to drag his skinny frame off someplace else, which of course did not please my master, who said ‘you can find the money to get yourself drunk but you can’t pay your debts’, and when Youla just laughed harder, Kibandi added dryly, out loud, ‘people with no money shouldn’t have children’, Youla indulged in the remark ‘ I’m not even sure I do owe you money, do I, maybe you’ve got the wrong person, now get out of my yard’, his wife then joined in, telling him to get lost, or she’d summon an elder of the village, and when my master got back home, feeling vexed, I saw him talking aloud to himself, cursing, I knew then that things were going to go badly wrong for Youla, I had never seen Kibandi in such a state, not even when that young show-off Amédée had called him a sick hick, he summoned me straight away, this was urgent, he couldn’t wait, Youla would soon see what my master was made of, and at midnight, after Kibandi had taken a giant dose of mayamvumbi, this time without mixing it with mwengué to sweeten it, we were all ready to go, my master’s other self was coming with us for once, although I wasn’t very clear what his role would be, we came to the peasant’s compound, his house was so run down a donkey could have got in through the holes in the outside walls, my master sat down at the foot of a paradise tree, his other self was behind him, with his back to us, as usual when he was moving about, I walked round the house, ending up in the bedroom, I saw Youla snoring on a mat, with his wife in bed at the far end of the room, I expect it was always like that when the husband was drunk, I crossed the room, went towards the child’s room, as soon as I got close to the baby I felt a pang, I wished I could go back home, Kibandi’s other self was behind me, I wondered why my master had decided to attack the little babe instead of the man who owed him money, or if it came to that, his wife, who had dared take sides in their argument, my quills grew heavy and reluctant, I told myself I wouldn’t be able to shoot, I had never attacked a child before, I needed to find a reason, something to increase my determination and put some fight back into me, but what motive could there be, I couldn’t think, then suddenly I said to myself that my master was right, actually, to remind this guy that when you have no money you’ve no business making children, and I also remembered that the old porcupine used to preach that all men were bad, including children, because ‘the tiger’s young are born with claws’ so we needed to pin some vice on him, find some fault with him that was beyond redemption, I told myself he was a drunkard, and in any case, the poor kid would have a terrible life with this uneducated peasant, I muttered these arguments to myself, in an attempt to sweep away the remorse, as though I could banish the pity which was making my quills wilt, suddenly they perked up, I could feel them starting to whirr, my master’s anger was now my anger, as though it was me Youla owed money, and I lost the sense that the creature before me was just an poor innocent thing, I told myself that in fact our action would free him, relieve his suffering, Youla didn’t deserve to be a father, being an alcoholic who broke his word, who perhaps owed money to the entire population, and at that moment of reflection I tensed, a firm quill flew out of my back and into the poor child, my master’s other self had gone from the room, perhaps he’d been there to give me the strength to do the deed, I quickly left myself, so I wouldn’t get upset, what I really didn’t want to do was watch the poor innocent child taking leave of this life just because of the stupidity and irresponsibility of his father, that I did not want to see, and yet something about it bothered me, I felt ashamed of my own reflection in the water, I went to the funeral, perhaps hoping for some kind of forgiveness, I heard the poor folk singing their funeral songs, and I wept

  in the days shortly after this incident, the image of baby Youla came back to haunt me, I began to fear my own shadow in bright daylight, I imagined the ghost of the baby was hiding behind the next bush, waiting for me, and perhaps that was a weight on my conscience too, and I withdrew into the bush and took stock, I analysed all the facts, the only slightly serious, the rather serious, the serious and above all the very serious, like the death of this child, and the faces of our victims flashed before me, we had already carried out ninety-nine missions, but not the slightest suspicion attached to us at that point, my master always got away with it, thanks to the palm nut he stuffed up his rectum, and I couldn’t work out why, out of all our victims, the only one that really stopped me thinking about anything else was this baby of Youla’s, it was as though he was spying on us, waiting for us at each bend in the road, and after all, I said to myself, he was only a tiny little human, with no strength, and no power, and I remembered also how the old governor used to warn us that the enemies we should really fear were the tiny ones, and sometimes I told myself that this little baby had a message for me, was trying to tell me to revolt, and all I had to do to break the chain of our missions was to take my own life, or rebel against my master by standing up to him, or disappear without trace, but some force held me back, even though I had the feeling our
hundredth mission would be fatal to us, would most certainly cost us our lives, perhaps it was just me worrying, and I was convinced that Kibandi, for his part, wasn’t keeping the score, he was just driven by the drink, high on the mayamvumbi

  by then there had been so many victims, it no longer gave me any pleasure to obey my master, he had to shout for me several times, get his other self to follow me round the whole time, threaten to kill me, though I knew he couldn’t carry out that particular piece of intimidation because that would be the end of us, and so, my dear Baobab, our nighttime activities began to falter

  the eyes of the local population were all on my master, who seemed to be acting on auto-pilot, we’d had difficulty pulling off our hundredth mission, I’d lost count of our failed attempts, my quills seemed to be losing their power, missing the target, as happened with the woman they call Ma Mpori, I hit her in the calf, but my quills had no effect on her at all, which should have made Kibandi sit up, now my master wanted me to carry out the mission again, but it is unthinkable, reckless, even, to attack the same person twice, I know this woman too had something, she was not an ordinary being, she had made this quite clear to me by asking me several times who had sent me, who was my master, only an initiate would ask that kind of question, and thinking about old Ma Mpori now, I realize that if had we doubled our level of vigilance my master would not now be rotting away in his grave, but I’ll tell you this, old Mpori was something else, I am sure she’d eaten a few people in this village, and why, you may ask, am I speaking of her in the past tense when she’s still alive, well, she’s lost all her teeth, she leaves her door open all night long, shows her naked body by way of a curse when the young folk show her disrespect, and the young ones immediately scarper, because the sight of her naked body damns you for all eternity, she’s propped up on her two rickety legs, with a hide like an old reptile, there’d been no previous history between her and my master, but even so, Kibandi believed she could tell what we got up to at night, she bothered us, she was a danger, we needed to wipe her out, it was easier said than done, even if her door was wide open on the day I went to carry out my mission, it was last month, I was alone, not even Kibandi’s other self was with me, unless, unknown to me, he was hiding out somewhere, Ma Mpori was inside her hut, and when I finally got inside I couldn’t see a thing, as though it was the middle of the night, I could only just make out the shape of the old woman in the corner, my quills weren’t moving, but I had to go ahead, I had to carry out my mission, and it was then I heard a voice murmur, ‘come on then, you old beast, you’ll soon find out what Ma Mpori’s made of, I’ll strip naked for you’, she could see me, but I couldn’t see her, and she added, ‘you’ve been doing things in this village with the one who sent you here, but you won’t do that to me, you fool, you’ve come to the wrong place’, I began to feel afraid, I wanted to go back the way I’d come, but it seemed the door behind me had closed, there was just a wall, it must have been a trick of the eye, ‘who is your master, then, who sent you here, it’s Kibandi the carpenter, isn’t it, I know it is’ she shouted at me, and when I didn’t reply Ma Mpori stood up, suddenly the old hag seemed full of energy, ‘tell me yourself who your master is, don’t you think you’ve eaten enough people in this village now, what about Youla’s baby, that was you too, wasn’t it’, then, bless my quills, I had to steel myself, she was heading straight for me, she had something in her hand, a machete, I thought, though I wasn’t exactly sure, I managed to quickly cock a quill, I fired it at her, I heard her shout ‘you filthy beast, what have you done to my leg, eh, just you wait till I catch you,’ I looked for a way out in the pitch darkness, I aimed straight for the door, found myself outside, the old woman came out of her hut, suddenly agile on her matchstick legs, she stood there talking in front of her shack, ‘evil spirits of this village, I see you at night, you bad people, you sorcerers, when you see my door left open, like it is now, it means I’m setting a trap for you, so come on back, why don’t you, then you’ll see me naked, right up close’, I was already a way off, it was my greatest fear, my heart was pounding, if I’d had the courage I would have said to my master that we had reached the limits of our activity, that we must on no account cross the red line, but alas I said nothing, all that happened was I got told off by Kibandi, he was really horrible to me, he had forgotten my devotion, everything I had ever done for him, he called me a good for nothing, and threatened once more to kill me, and it was that day I understood his connection with his other self, my master actually pointed out his other self lying on the last mat Mama Kibandi ever wove, and said ‘you see that guy lying over there, well just lately he’s been getting hungrier and hungrier, it’s not the moment to start bungling things, this guy needs to eat, or you’ll pay the price, you don’t realize that whenever he gets hungry it’s me that suffers’, and he told me I must make up for my failure, this time by attacking the Moundjoula family, they were a couple who’d arrived in Séképembé recently with their two children, twins, who, so he claimed, had been disrespectful to him, my master had no inkling at that point that he’d just signed his own death warrant, by giving me the mission which would turn out to be our hundredth success, sorry, make that hundred and first, since we’d be killing two birds with one stone

  bless my quills, how time flies, my voice is raw, night has fallen over Séképembé already, I weep and weep, I don’t know why, for once my solitude is a burden to me, I feel so guilty, I did nothing to save my master, was there anything I could have done to stop those two kids who tormented him so in the few weeks before his death, I don’t know, I really don’t, at first I just wanted to save my skin even though I was sure that if Kibandi died I must die also, and under conditions like that, it’s true what they say, better a live coward than a dead hero, well I’m not exactly overcome with grief at Kibandi’s absence, nor embarrassed to have been lucky enough to survive till now, to have had you as my confidant, but I’m ashamed of all the things I’ve been telling you since this morning, I wouldn’t want you to judge me without taking into account the fact that I was just an underling, a shadow in Kibandi’s life, I never learned to disobey, it was as though I was gripped by the same anger, the same frustration, the same bitterness, the same jealousy as my master, and I don’t like my present state of mind, because I’m constantly haunted by the faces of our victims, they may have vanished, but they are still here, before me, around me, watching me, pointing at me, on each face you can read the reason why we decided to finish them off, it would take me a year to explain it all, for example, young Abeba, we ate him because he had teased my master for being thin when he happened to spot him half naked by the riverside, it was unforgiveable, believe me, we ate Asalaka because he called my master a sorcerer, then desecrated Mama Kibandi’s grave, it’s disrespectful, the dead should be left in peace, we ate Ikonongo because he dared to defend the man who desecrated Mama Kibandi’s grave, which meant he approved of it, we ate Loumouanou because she had rejected my master’s advances in public at the bistro Le Marigot, though she was the one who first came on to Kibandi, and afterwards she claimed it was my master who had gone too far, for her it had just been a game, she said Kibandi should take a look at himself in the mirror before talking to a woman like herself, you can see, remarks like this were simply intolerable, we ate old Mabélé because he was spreading lies about my master, he said it was he who’d stolen a red cockerel from the head of the village, which wasn’t even true, because it’s the kids in this village who carry out that kind of theft, we had eaten Moufindiri because he was one of the ones who wanted a sorcerer to come and purify the village, rid it of all those in possession of a harmful double, who did he think he was, eh, especially since my master had no wish to end up like his father, he hadn’t forgotten Tembé-Essouka, the sorcerer who was responsible for the death of Papa Kibandi, we had eaten Louvounou because he claimed to have seen a strange animal that looked like a porcupine behind my master’s shack, he said things like ‘in some ways it was like a por
cupine, you know, and in another way, what’s strange is, it wasn’t like a porcupine, I mean, it was a weird animal, it looked at me like one man might look at another, and it showed me its backside before disappearing into the carpenter’s workshop, I swear I didn’t dream it, believe me’, the guy was right but he’d made the mistake of telling the village chief about it, and he then came to talk to Kibandi, singling him out, we ate Ekonda Sakadé because he had seen my master talking to me in a thicket near Mama Kibandi’s grave, and he too had gone to tell the chief of the village, we ate wise old Otchombé because he opposed Kibandi’s candidature for the village council on the grounds that my master was and would remain an outsider, which offended him, when what he wanted more than anything was a chance to show the village that he was just like the rest of them, we ate the grocer, Komayayo Batobatanga because he had refused to give us credit on a storm lamp and two tins of Moroccan sardines in oil, it was unfair because the whole village bought from him on credit, we had eaten old Dikamona because of her odd comings and goings every night in front of my master’s shack, hoping to catch the two of us at it, my master and I, since there was a rumour going round that there was something about him, and the truth is, for porcupine’s sake, we just began eating people at the drop of a hat, because my master’s other self had to be fed and when the creature with no mouth, no ears and no nose had had his fill, it would go and settle on the last mat Mama Kibandi ever wove, scratching and farting away, no normal creature would ever have been that hungry, and just seeing him stretched out there on the mat I could tell he was hungry because often he’d turn round, fidget for half an hour then once again lie still as a corpse