Gabon

17 August is Gabon’s Independence Day—the Gabonese gained their independence from France on this day in 1960. So, that’s 48 years of independence nationhood, right? The country has had two presidents in that time. Well, discounting a 24 hour interruption. Let’s find out more.

Initial inhabitants? Pygmy peoples. Absorbed into an influx of Bantu tribes. Europeans came along in the 15th century—in fact, the name “Gabon” comes from a European source. It originates in the Portuguese word for cabin—Gabâo. So, that was the coastal contact. The interior always takes a bit longer—it was 1875 before Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza led his first expedition into the Gabon-Congo region. He founded the imaginatively named town, Franceville.

When France put together a bunch of territories to make French Equatorial Africa (yes, it’s equatorial), Gabon became part of that federation—lasting from 1910 until 1959. And then came independence.

So the first president, Léon M’ba, led the country for 6 years, from 1961 until his death in 1967. (There was actually a usurper in 1964—for 24 hours. Jean-Hilaire Aubame ended up in prison for ten years.) His vice president became the successor, and Omar Bongo has ruled the country ever since. In the 1990s reforms came in to move the country to a multiparty democracy, but President Bongo has been consistently re-elected. Though there have been questions about the fairness of these elections, international observers say that the results were representative, though there were perceived irregularities.

Mmm. Rainforests. They cover 85 percent of the country.

Poetically, I have a Gabonese Pygmy song for you today—it comes from 3,000 Years of Black Poetry3,000 Years of Black Poetry, and was translated by C. M. Bowra.


The Elephant II

Elephant hunter, take your bow!
Elephant hunter, take your bow!

In the weeping forest, under the wing of the evening
the night all black has gone to rest happy:
in the sky the stars have fled trembling,
fireflies shine vaguely and put out their lights:
above us the moon is dark, its white light is put out.
The spirits are wandering. 

Elephant hunter, take your bow!
Elephant hunter, take your bow!

In the frightened forest the tree sleeps, the leaves
      are dead,
the monkeys have closed their eyes, hanging from the 
      branches above us:
the antelopes slip past with silent steps,
eat the fresh grass, prick their ears,
lift their heads and listen frightened:
the cicada is silent, stops his grinding son.

Elephant hunter, take your bow!
Elephant hunter, take your bow!

In the forest lashed by the great rain
Father elephant walks heavily, baou, baou,
careless, without fear, sure of his strength,
Father elephant, whom no one can vanquish:
among the trees which he breaks he stops and starts again:
he eats, roars, overturns trees and seeks his mate:
Father elephant, you have been heard from far.

Elephant hunter, take your bow!
Elephant hunter, take your bow!

In the forest where no one passes but you,
hunter, lift up your heart, leap and walk:
meat in front of you, the huge piece of meat, 
the meat that walks like a hill.
the meat that makes the heart glad,
the meat that we’ll roast on our coals,
the meat into which our teeth sink,
the fine red meant and the blood we drink smoking.

Elephant hunter, take your bow!
Elephant hunter, take your bow!

—Gabon Pygmy song
translated by C. M. Bowra
from 3,000 Years of Black Poetry