Fire produces light, but there are other lights besides the fire's.
It was the afternoon, and an atmosphere reminiscent of the mboongi or kandza, places of storytelling and tradition, filled the courtyard. The old professor, with mischievous eyes beneath his salt-and-pepper hair, looked at his former students over his glasses, assessing them. How much time remained before the question that lingered on the tip of their tongues would blossom? He had taught in Loango, Mbomo, and Boko. He knew almost the entire Republic of Congo.
Now retired, he volunteered to lead a traveling think tank on the civilizations of the Congo Basin. He reconnected with former students and made new friends through these sessions.
"What was the question again?" someone asked.
"Why did the indigenous people abandon fire but not light to those who came after them?" he repeated.
A week earlier, the passionate retiree had discussed the third millennium BCE and the courtyard of the young Néferkâré, future Pharaoh Pepi II, where indigenous people were already present as masters of songs and dances.
That morning, the professor had reminded them that in ancient times, the Egyptians referred to the forested area that still covered the land as the country of trees and spirits. This afternoon, their reflection focused on an oral tradition that stated that the original peoples did not share the gift of fire with the newcomers in the Congo Basin. Considering them unworthy and lacking respect for nature, the indigenous people escaped. However, a burning ember fell from a torch, spreading the precious technique.
"In this legend, we can't say that fire was stolen either; they simply lacked the user manual..."
"We're almost there!" exclaimed the professor.
The solution to the riddle came from all sides at once, like a bushfire.