Among the Bantu peoples, those of Nzi and Koongo share a common ancestor in their genealogies; a shared memory named Nguunu. Some say she was once a territory; others speak of her as a divinity, also known as Nzaama Mpu, Nzaùn a Mpu, or Nzyam. She is the space encircled by the rainbow, absolute and omnipresent, like air, stone, plant, and animal.
This is what remains in the memory of the people.
During musyam’, the sacred ritual mastered by the ngaa, the mystery is reenacted, on nights when statues and masks dance in ceremony.
The most sacred site for the Nzi people, despite their many differences, lies where the Lefini River raises its voice and begins to roar.
The Téké are said to be the leaves of the same tree, the trees of the same grove.
Down in the Djambala hills, at Mbaun, lie the sacred waterfalls of the ba-Téké, the people of Nzi. But who forged the two nzwunu; the iron anvils that stand beneath them? They became resonant membranes, singing with metallic and mineral harmonies, echoing across kilometers like the roar of a lion or lioness.
Red, black, white, and ochre lines marked the sacred emblems of their ancient alliance with the powerful Nkir of Mbaun, not far from the citadel of Mbé.
It was there that the ancient pact with Nguunu was consecrated. Her name was never forgotten, only transformed into a symbol, into color:
White like a troubled mirror, like a river’s foaming path.
White like woman, like water, like the small lake of infinity each of them carries within.
White as sacred inner fluid, echoing the absolute spirit of the waterfalls.
White as inner peace, concord, and radiant well-being.
Red like blood, like the shifting sun, like copper.
Red as warning, as nature’s alarm.
Black like the walls of home, warm and safe.
Black like the protective smoke of a quiet domestic fire.