bout de papier, Vol. 11, No. 2 (1994) — Summer 1994 // Été 1994, pp. 8–9
The day began as usual in Accra, Ghana. I was seated in my office, going through my correspondence and reviewing my appointment schedule. Around 10: 00 a.m. I realized that I had to go into town to cash a cheque at Barclay’s Bank. I took a shortcut by walking through the market, filled with exotic smells and interesting sights. It was brimming with people who seemed bent on not only selling a multitude of goods but also enjoying themselves at the same time.
To my left, a Market Mammy was selling fried plantain, rice and stew, laced with red hot chili peppers. Farther along, I entered the retail section where new and used clothing was sold. I noticed that there were a large number of students, whiling away their time. I enquired and found that there had been a wildcat teachers’ strike. No school today. I continued on my route.
Up ahead, there were people crowded around an entertainer. As I approached, I could hardly believe what I saw. There was a Snake Charmer and a little girl, helping him perform before a spell-bound audience. In shocked disbelief and horror, I recognized my daughter.
A small python was coiled around her leg. There was an ugly black snake crawling up her shoulder. I dreaded that it might continue and wind itself around her neck. I flinched in fear and revulsion. Linda saw me, broke into a big smile, while waving to me with her free hand.
“Linda,” I called out in a barely audible voice. “Could you come here for a minute, please?”
Linda removed the snakes with the help of the Snake Charmer and bounded up to me.
“Hi, Dad,” she said. “What brings you to the market?”
“A better question. Why aren’t you at home?”
“There was no school today. My friend, Adjoa, invited me to meet her mother who works in the market. Then I met the snake man. Aren’t the colours of the snakes beautiful?”
Trying hard to maintain my composure, I replied, “Please, don’t ever handle snakes. They can be very dangerous.”
“It was perfectly safe, Dad. The man said nothing would happen to me as long as I wore his magic ring.”
The “magic ring” was made from the skin of a mongoose. Perhaps the smell of the mongoose ring and the fact that the mongoose and the snake are natural enemies was what had indeed protected my daughter.
The weeks turned into days and it came time to make the last minute preparations to return to Ottawa. I thought our departure
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I spied in a department store window some old fashioned valises, well-made of solid leather, from the Peoples’ Republic of China. The price was right: $40 each. “What a wonderful carry-on bag,” I thought. I bought one for each member of the family.
The final day arrived and the family departed for the airport. I indicated to the Customs Officer, as we checked in, that we were carrying only personal effects. (It was in the days when strip searches had yet to be invented and there were no X-ray machines.) Nobody inspected our carry-on luggage.
The kids settled down in their assigned seats after making a few adjustments. I noticed that my eldest daughter had become engaged in a conversation with an older lady, sitting by the window seat. Linda had placed her valise on the middle seat that was empty. The plane took off and I stretched out, prepared to sleep the flight away.
Suddenly, I found myself half-awake, spell-bound as I focused on Linda’s suitcase. The top of the valise began to open, very slowly. A snake poked its head out. The little, white-haired old lady, sat up-right, like myself, riveted to her seat.
The Snake Charmer had given Linda one of his treasured possessions.
Later, I wrote to friends in the embassy, telling them about the dramatic turn of events on-board the aircraft. The Snake Charmer eventually heard the story via the “bush telegraph”. He was delighted. His protégé, Linda, had a captive audience. What better going away present could one performer give to another?
What happened to the reptile? Linda produced her magic ring that unbeknown to anyone she had taken with her and coaxed the snake back into the valise that was then securely locked. The plane landed at Heathrow Airport after what seemed like a life-time, and the baby python was subsequently donated to the London Zoo.
And Linda? Well, Linda went on to university where she majored in the pure sciences. She always had a natural talent for zoology.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 11, No. 2 (1994) — Summer 1994 // Été 1994, pp. 8–9. Read the rest of this issue →
