The Spirit of the Old Trackman

Railway construction had been his whole life. Among the tasks assigned to him, in his capacity as chief engineer, the man in the suit had to oversee the maintenance of the tracks, carried out by men recruited from the neighboring villages. These laborers, of all ages, had to remove invasive vegetation, observe any anomalies in the track or embankments, identify any landslides caused by torrential rains, and report all of this as quickly as possible, of course.

It so happened that one of these invaluable assistants, a gray-haired old man, bent with age, who would stroll peacefully along the section for which he was responsible, tapping the railroad ties with the tip of his cane, had to take early retirement due to heart problems. He lived in a hamlet built at the crossroads of the railroad and a laterite road, said to be passable, lost in the dusty wilderness so characteristic of African railways. The poor man died a few days after his retirement! A simple and discreet death in the privacy of his family home, in the sole presence of his wrinkled, sad, and resigned companion. Who will ever remember him, this infinitely discreet existence? That is why people invent gods! They are credited with the desire to count all lives without discrimination, to recognize even the most insignificant of beings. Unless...

After some time, the company hired a young man to ensure the continuity of maintenance. He worked for a week, then, to the surprise of his superiors, asked to be transferred to a repair team. This was refused, as he had no qualifications for the job. He then handed in his resignation and disappeared without asking for his wages. No matter, there were plenty of young villagers without work, so the search for a replacement began. And that's when things got complicated...

It was impossible to find anyone! Even under threat of dismissal, people who were already employed for other jobs but considered underperforming refused to take up the torch. Intrigued by this unusual case, and called in by the white foreman, who was unhappy about having to personally supervise part of the track, the engineer in charge went to the region to understand the situation.

He decided to visit the tiny village of the deceased and was surprised to find that no one before him had thought of doing so. He was received with curiosity when he revealed his identity: a distinguished visitor, had that ever happened before? Mistrust arose when he described the nature of his activities, and outright hostility when he questioned the difficulty of finding a replacement. Faced with this surprising attitude, he talked about other subjects, such as the difficulty of life and the cassava and sweet potato crops he saw around the few houses. The atmosphere relaxed and he was invited to snack on a piece of fish accompanied by peanuts and young roasted cassava roots. He took some bottles of beer out of the trunk of his car and the men drank with him, straight from the bottle.

He was about to leave empty-handed when an old man approached him silently: “What's the matter, Baba?” His reassuring smile and friendly tone in turn opened up the villager's face. “Bwana, you know Africa better than the new white people, you are an elder.” The man waited to see the reaction of his counterpart, who nodded attentively. “Then listen to what I'm going to tell you! Tomorrow, at the end of the afternoon, an hour before sunset, go to the largest trees, where your tracks turn near the stream. Sit down and don't move: be careful, don't draw attention to yourself! Watch and you will understand.”

The old man fell silent, smiled one last time, and disappeared into the night. Intrigued, our investigator asked the obese, red-faced foreman to explain how to get to the place in question, and it took a detailed map to find it. This subordinate suffered from his obesity in the equatorial heat and fought thirst with beer.

He was very reluctant to take a long walk to get there. He was relieved to learn that his boss did not require his presence.

The latter did not want to be burdened with this sweaty, obese man, who gave off a sickening smell of leeks and fermented drink. He preferred the scents of the forest! The foreman offered him a weapon: “You never know in this damn country!” he belched. The engineer refused with a certain contempt: the old man had made it clear that he would not be at risk if he kept quiet. However, he did have the idea of taking a camera with him, because he loved this damn country and took lots of photos there. These tall trees were going to be immortalized for the only time in their very long lives! Often, we only know about the work of our subordinates through definitions and regulations, especially with such a gap in the hierarchy.

Apart from the stifling heat at the end of the day, the walk turned out to be wonderful. Nature was resplendent and the walker could hear the chattering of many birds that he would have had difficulty recognizing. On the other hand, the professional's critical eye was unsparing in its assessment of the obvious signs of neglect. The big foreman must not have come around here often, while waiting for a new roadmender to be hired. A bush pig burst out of the thicket, startling the visitor, who didn't have time to take a picture. “Damn!” As bush pigs live near wetlands, the stream must have been close by, although the ambient heat gave no indication of its presence. Finally, a large bend appeared at the foot of a colossal baobab tree, like a lord and his court, surrounded by trees of impressive size but which seemed dwarfed in comparison.

He couldn't see the stream, hidden by the trunks, but analyzing the map removed any doubt about the location. He was there, and his first idea was to sit down on a thick, uprooted root. Then he wiped his forehead with a already soggy handkerchief, caught his breath, and finally observed his surroundings. What could possibly be happening in this remote corner? After waiting for about an hour, he noticed movement on the horizon. Someone was walking along the track in the same direction he had just come from. In a few minutes, the distant apparition turned into a stooped figure using a cane to help him walk. Could the roadmender be dead? The observer was about to take a photo to prove this hoax. The walker's gait was peaceful and swaying, like that of a gray-haired old man. When suddenly the white man realized that this figure remained very small as he approached! Okay! It must be a teenager who had staged this comedy. Everyone would laugh at the deception!

Then came the astonishment. Now the being had come close enough to the observer to be recognized. He was advancing cautiously, tapping the ground in front of him with a crooked stick. His swaying gait, his gestures, and his peaceful demeanor fascinated the stunned photographer. The creature stopped about fifty meters away and placed a palm on its chest, as if in pain, then resumed its interrupted walk. It occasionally looked at the riverbanks, regularly tapping the railroad ties with the tip of its makeshift cane, grumbling from time to time as if to itself. He passed the engineer without seeing him, and the engineer felt a great mixture of emotion and amusement. How was this possible? By what whim of nature?

For it was an old chimpanzee wandering between the rails! The fur on his head was gray, like that of the old roadmender he had spied on for years, down to the detail of the pain in his chest. Why, by what mystery, had this animal decided to replace man? And to terrorize the whole region? “We should hire him...” This silly thought almost made him laugh out loud after the strong emotion he felt at the monkey's human-like gestures. He finally thought of immortalizing this extraordinary scene. The mechanical click stopped the quadruped in his tracks. He looked at the intruder, growling a few times, and disappeared into the thicket. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and the human shuddered so much that he got goose bumps. Was it the unusual atmosphere of this encounter? Was he under the spell of this late afternoon in the gathering twilight, when all the great apes had human-like eyes? He promised himself he would check out this phenomenon at the metropolitan zoo.

Back in his office, the engineer had the lucky photo developed. He had a glossy print made and returned to the office where the thick foreman was sweating. He had ordered him to gather all the elders from the surrounding villages, especially those from the small hamlet. When he arrived, many people were sitting in front of the veranda, even European technicians. The Bwana, who had encountered the spirit of the old roadmender, was greeted with respect, the tam-tams having chattered and spread the astonishing news to the best of their communicative abilities! What did they say to each other there, under the trees, along the river? Since then, the railroad tracks were no longer haunted! Not everyone was reassured yet, but now they would find out what had happened... “My friends, I too have met your deceased brother.” A murmur greeted these first words.

The foreman wondered what game he was playing but didn't dare react. “What did he say to you, Bwana, why is he angry?” With a wave of his hand, he calmed the assembly. “After a long life devoted to his family and his village, after working tirelessly for the railway company for more than twenty years, he was afraid that his loved ones would forget him, that no one would talk about him anymore...” This preamble provoked a chorus of protests, punctuated by vigorous gestures of denial from the audience. Unperturbed, the director continued: “He had seen people taking photos in the city and found it amusing. But no one ever took his photo! And besides, who would immortalize a simple road worker? The result: here he is, dead, with no one to remember him by his image!” A great silence fell: it was now irreparable. “But...” and the white man smiled at his attentive audience, “he agreed to let me take the photo, even in the form of the old chimpanzee in which he had placed his spirit. On condition, of course, that his village would keep it safe! He assured me that, in any case, when you're old, you look a bit like a monkey!” Everyone laughed, everyone was relieved, the parents swore to place the photo in the hut where he had lived during his lifetime, and the session was closed.

Wishing his boss a safe return, the foreman, looking vaguely suspicious, asked him if he was going back to Europe soon. He must have thought it was time for the director to get his mental health back on track! The engineer chuckled at his subordinate's obtuse incomprehension and took his leave. Candidates to replace the old roadmender jostled for position in the week following this speech. More work for the big foreman!