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They had found oil deep in the Cameroon wilderness. A tribe was living there, calling themselves the Magobgies. Anderson didn’t really care what they were called. They had to be removed, not really a problem.
Paying off the right politicians they got their way, and they went in to get started. They had workers, government soldiers and a private American security company.
The chief of the Magobgies refused to leave. Some of the tribesmen even picked up their spears, as to defend their territory. Anderson was amused. It wasn’t theirs anymore, it was the territory of Mayor Oilcompany Corporation now. They had bought it, paid for it. It was theirs.
-I’d rather die than leave my homeland, the chief said.
Anderson gave a signal. An order was given by the ranking officer of the security team. The chief was shot dead.
Ga’bomba was so sad, he had great respect and for both his chief and his homeland. As they packed their scarce belongings, the work had already started. The villagers cried as the workers tore down their sacred hill.
In a dry desert the tribe was given other land. Ga’bomba did not see how they would be able to survive in a place like this.
-Is there nothing we can do? he asked the Witch Doctor when they sat by the bonfire that night.
-There might be, the Witch Doctor said. -The men from far away are looking for something hidden under the holy land. Something of great value, but also of great cost. It gives the owner power, but it destroys the balance of nature. It kills pants and animals, and poisons the air. This is why the Magobgies have never touched it. This is why the land covering it was once made holy. The darkness in the ground will now be pulled up. Maybe, just maybe it can be used to our advantage.
Anderson was at the drill site to make sure everything went as planned. Soon beautiful oil would come pouring up from the ground. Money was the key to happiness. The drill went down through the dirt. It stopped.
-Something’s wrong! the drill leader said. -It seems to be blocked by something.
There was a sound in the air, coming from behind the bushes. Drums. Someone was singing. A strange, humming song with increasing rhythm, louder and louder.
-The tribesmen! Anderson turned towards the security boss. -Go check out…
The ground started shaking. Smoke was coming up from the drill hole.
-We got something!
-Already? Anderson moved closer.
The smoke smelled of death and rotting flesh. Natural gas shouldn’t smell like that. It got thicker. A shape started forming. A face stared out from within the darkness.
Panic broke out among the workers. Anderson started walking backwards, away from the smoke. He stopped. He stared into the eyes of a monster, an evil glare staring back at him. He wanted to turn, to run, but his body didn’t listen. His hands was shaking. His knees. His lips.
A hand struck out of the darkness. Caught him. Claws dug into his body, lifted him up. He could feel his flesh rot off his bones.The soldiers started shooting into the black smoke with no effect.
An evil laughter rumbled over the land. The dark claws cut the soldiers to pieces. Blood flowed. The workers ran, and soon the field was abounded. The monster dissolved into the air.
Ma’gumba was watching the Witch Doctor walking towards him over the dry land.
-It’s over, the Witch Doctor said when he arrived. -We can go home now, the darkness in the ground is gone. Hopefully the men from far away will leave us alone.
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