The Senegalese author Marcel A. Monteil has just released his first book “Le mandate du chaos”. Here are some powerful excerpts : Mandate of Chaos O Kanka Moussa, you the grand mansa, king of kings, king of gold, from the bottom of your mausoleum, light up my path 7 times because your fortune, however immense it was, could not keep your grandchildren at home.
You Bakary II, Emperor-Explorer, Sovereign Navigator, reveal to me your secret so that I can face the demons of the sea. I want to see the end of the desert, I want to discover the other side of the ocean.
Sogolon Kèdjou, woman humiliated by the handicap of your son, great king unable to bring you a “modern Baobab leaf” printed in Chamalières, let me go and seek happiness. Sassouma Bérété will no longer mock you; she will silence her mocking laughter and her malevolence.
Prepare my talismans, call upon the greatest shamans of the Negus Empire, whether they are connected with nature or complacent with helpless spirits … I am all set.
I am leaving since the unworthy modern Kansas successors of Soundiata have no empathy, love, or compassion for the people. They sacrifice the madrasas of their land at the same time as they send their offspring to learn from Charlemagne. They prepare them to become future Mokonzi and cowardly hatch their plan: to make us eternal servants. This cannot continue!
They no longer worry about the well-being, health and development of their fellow citizens who languish in poorly landscaped neighborhoods that look like backwaters from the first rain. Hospitals, if they are not inaccessible, are in ruins or bankrupt, dying places for the poor. They, meanwhile, to whiten their teeth yellowed by indolence and arrogance go to the doctors of the major clinics in the north.
I will follow the gentle smoke trail of the iron bird with my eyes because I am not worthy of taking a seat in it. The requirements to access it are so complex, so exhausting, so humiliating for us …
I will go elsewhere for you Sogolon Diata, I will be the little Soundiata. I want to thrive, to flee this tyrant, corrupt, bloodthirsty Manikongo warlord, exploiting child soldiers, friend of the colonial powers. I want to run away from this famine, this injustice… I just want to leave.
Go to these imaginary lands, beyond the shore and the mirage of my dreams, described badly by those who have already been there and live there. I will go by sea, I will go by sky, I will go through the desert … I will go … far from the orchestrated turmoil, from the false misery maintained and imposed.
“Dusty, corrupt and thorny emirs, the people telle you again that you are neither eternal nor invulnerable”
Soundiata Keita! I want to leave because your charter, the Mandé charter, Kouroukan Fouga charter, plagiarized, adopted and embellished on December 10, 1948 in Paris at the Palais de Chaillot, still does not protect us. Selfish plotters with gold necklaces set with diamonds, lace aprons, supposed guardians of universal values and morals, only violate it and watch with blessing their African servants do the same.
Moses, you the prophet of God, prophet of the starving and enslaved people, prepare to stretch out your hand again over the sea. Do not let us perish at the bottom of the ocean, you the miraculous baby of the great river do not let no African child feed the coral fish. Brother of Aaron, hear and listen to the distress and the supplications of the children swallowed up by the ocean, are they not also of the people of God? Why confuse them with those of Pharaoh’s army?
Survived by a miracle, when I am on the other side, at my destination, my eyes will open and I will realize that we have the Nile, the Congo, the Niger, the Zambezi, the Orange river, that we have the Senegal river capable to water thousands and thousands of hectares still unexploited.
And now my conscience will remind me that I left behind me, out of fear and cowardice, for the benefit of the prince-tyrant, his family and his friends-enemies: petroleum, uranium, coal, manganese, bauxite, coltan, phosphate, limestone, diamonds, gold, nickel, platinum, copper, zinc, lead …
So, like the prodigal son, I will say that nothing is lacking in my father’s garden. Disappointed, I will regret the lost investment of my aunts, uncles and parents.
“Eh mba”, I will not forget the nights of great sadness and worry in the desert, the daily fear, the humiliations and my putting a price on the land of Omar Makhtar.
I will say to myself why haven’t I invested on the shores of the great lake, why haven’t I exploited my land, those I am joining in the West are going the other way to exploit my heritage.
Why face the storms of the ocean, the barbarian orders of the Sahara? Such bravery should be used to remove bad mansas. My decision is made: I will ally myself with my brothers and sisters of fate to fight the President-King-Dictator and his evil allies.
May the guardian angels of the memory of the martyrs strike us down mercilessly and for eternity if we continue to cowardly take refuge under the shell of guilty silence. May the peasants, great rebels in western Niger, curse us and deny us forever. May the spirits of Gbêhanzin king of Abomey, Almamy Samory Touré, Ruben Um Nyobè the Mpodol, Patrice Emery Lumumba the sacrificed, Benjamin Moloise the poet, Stephen Bantu Biko, Nelson Madiba Mandela the patient, Amílcar Lopes da Costa Cabral , Thomas Sankara the child of Yako, of Oumar Blondin Diop, the lamb of the sacrifice perpetrated on May 11, 1973, accuse us and drag us before the tribunal of our conscience.
What shall we say to Taytu Betul, founder of Addis Ababa, she who repelled the Italian invader, to Anne Zingha, queen of Ndongo, icon of the resistance to Portuguese imperialism, to Kimpa Vita, she who was burned alive on a pyre, to the fierce Amazons who offered the French soldiers their worst surprise on October 26, 1892, to Aline Sitoé Diatta the queen of Cabrousse …
May Presidents suffering from suicidal madness, doctor-cheaters, graduates of constitutional changes, dreamers of endless mandates, prepare their bundles. The sovereign people are ready to take back what is rightfully theirs.
Dusty, corrupt and thorny emirs, the people tell you again that you are neither eternal nor invulnerable.
God bless Africa!