I immediately noticed one mask that just took me aback. It isn’t that it’s a work of art and intricacy , but it maybe is the vision of the Judeo/ Christian -of who we see the devil or Satan as. We made all the greetings and I asked him how much he would sell this mask to me for. He smiled back to me and said this is never to be sold this is Samio. I know the traders custom and I changed the subject to other pieces he had on display. Our friendship began in a magical kind of way and I would sit with him and talk about African art and their significance and how to tell something real from something not. To the African mind the only thing that matters is not the beauty of an object, but the power it evokes and real objects are used by secret societies and the rest are for tourist. This Samio mask was old and you could immediately tell it had a history.

He told secrets about the different tribes and mentioned to always hire from the Jola tribe because the Jola people are honest and live by a high ethical standard. Since they are the most animistic tribe I wanted to know more especially about Samio the screaming and the drumming and always I would try to have him sell me this Samio, but he would just laugh and then offer me another Samio mask, one that was newer and didn’t have the same energy, but I could tell the difference easily. I must have asked him a hundred times, but never did he give me more information than I had gathered from others and he was resolute never to sell this one Samio mask to me. One day when I went out to my mailbox in Arizona I noticed something crammed into it wrapped in rough brown paper with the name Jowl Samuel and my address and the Gambia West Africa out of the Serrekunda post office that was it. At this point I want to talk about the television show Possessed Possessions which will be on the Learning Channel Halloween night featuring host ,the so called Ghost Whisperer himself James Van Praagh. It was suppose to be like an Antique Roadshow for Possessed Possessions shot aboard The Queen Mary which has for some strange reason got the reputation of being haunted. It’s absolutely bizarre to me if psychics want to find a paranormal place to investigate wouldn’t the odds be better in let’s say an Auschwitz or Hiroshima, but the Queen Mary. Well I was game to see what they would say about Samio, because no matter what everyone who sees him feels something and this has included even the family dog. The producers of the show were very impressed with Samio and they decided to portray him as evil, the typical devil thing and they had leading questions because yes there has been a lot of death in my life , but no one gets out of here alive -come on. And I have seen many people die and I have known many people so my agnostic side does not attribute death to Samio’s energy, but a protecting feeling which at times when you are around him can become almost comical. They spent over an hour interviewing me and even had me provide footage that I shot while living in Africa, but they will create what they want to show of him - Hollywood more than what is real, but what is real is Samio and you can judge for yourself in reality this object exudes an energy, but for the life of me it’s like getting the secret known from the Jolla tribe, you just can’t put your finger on what it is but it is. and this is more my story anyways. Maybe if anything feels different in his powers I have noticed that mail or correspondences get screwed up and the message of Samio and who or what it or he is remains a big mystery. Who knows after he becomes famous maybe he will go on EBAY and if the price is right I can always use money more than art, that is if there is anyone that feels they can handle Samio’s power and wants him in their collection.
James Van Praagh said he was creeped out by him and suggested that I send him back to The Gambia and I suggested that maybe I would give it to President Jammeh as a gift because he is a Jolla, but right at this time I consider him a welcome part of my new family.
There are many plusses to living in West Africa and many minuses also. The food for those that can afford it is fresh and there is a wide diversity. For the affluent, help such as maids, cooks, nanny's, all labor is very inexpensive. Housing by most westerners standards is also very affordable as well. To live as a Westerner in Africa can be expensive though ,because things like fuel, generators, furniture, clean water can be difficult, but with money you can live well and find just about everything. On the minus side there is plenty of disease to go around and most everyone has had a few bouts with Malaria and if you live in Africa for anywhere over six months then you have to stop the poisoness malaria treatment and prophylaxis aka Larium because after six months it begins to destroy the vital organs and ruins your optic nerves ,eyes. In many places Cholera still exists as a major problem and Yellow Fever and Meningitis and many other water born diseases are still prevalent. You learn a simpler way of life because things we take for granted are not always assured such as electricity and water and health care. Television therefore didn’t play such an important role yet and the simple pleasures of talking with people and social interactions are more important. People in general, especially for a westerner such as myself can present a variety of different problems. The culture is quite different and there are many do's and don'ts that need to be learned in order to communicate effectively. One such lesson is the way men and women interact. Most of the women to this day are circumcised, meaning at around age thirteen they are taken out into the bush and put through ceremonies where they learn a secret doctrine and then there clitoris is removed by way of a knife or a razor blade. This causes many sterility problems and infections and scaring is quite common and may include death. There are many reasons stated in favor of circumcision the most common is that it keeps the vagina tighter offering the man more pleasure. Also it will keep a woman from staying . For the man the woman is not as important and is there to serve him and so their pleasure is not important. Being allowed up to four wives also creates a feeling that romance is non existent and there is always a practical side why a woman marries and it so very rarely out of love or sexual attraction for the woman.. In this society a woman commonly shares their husband and jealousy is very uncommon and mostly communal. The woman is then regarded more as property and can be beaten if they do not follow their husbands request no matter how absurd it maybe. This interaction has to affect the society as a whole and is plagued by so many double standards and exceptions that anarchy is the rule of thumb and becoming more widespread. The good aspect about this is for the children growing up with an extended family with many relatives around them all the time make them seem better adjusted in interacting with people on a group level than the western way of isolation and separateness. I am not sure how I would feel to have many other brothers and sisters from the same father and different mothers, but the thought of family gatherings with about three hundred members and an extended group of tribes numbering in the thousands is intriguing. Being in a different culture and having to navigate by the seat of one's pants could prove disastrous unless a bit of luck follows you.

I was up river at a Wolof village and the sun was going down. The Chief invited us to eat with them in the traditional way of the Moslems. I had watched the food preparation and I noticed that little was done in the way of sanitary preparations. The water was drawn directly from the river and I had seen test done of the river which showed a wide assortment of diseases that flourished in the water. The women also were not very clean the latrine area was just fifty feet from their water source and the place where it was put together also was not very sanitary. I told my guide of my concerns and he did his best to get us out of the invitation, but alas he came back and said it would be considered an insult if we didn't partake with them. We sat on a Baobab mat in a large circle and the food was set in the middle and everyone was waiting that I serve myself that they could begin. I knew I had to think fast so I immediately reached in and took my food with my hand in the typical Moslem manner, but it was my left hand. All of a sudden voices were raised in protest and an argument ensued and my guide was quickly engaging the elders in a pleading tone. I knew what I had done, but was unsure of it's ramifications. For the Moslems the right hand is only used to eat with and the left is reserved for the wiping after defecating. My guide was as well astounded, but I then told him that I was left handed , but was taught to use either hand which he immediately conveyed to the chief. I also added that in my culture many people including myself wiped my ass with either hand. The women were busy clearing away the defiled food and I was never asked again to eat with the village again, to my relief. I found much later that under other circumstances I could have been beaten or even murdered depending on the time of year especially if this would have happened during what is called the hungry period where the village is between crops and everyone basically goes hungry. I once met a very interesting elderly man. He was Lebanese. During the many crisis occurring in Lebanon around the early 1900s, he decided to try to make a new life for himself in West Africa. The Lebanese are found everywhere in the world and from one Lebanese to another it is like an extended family. He came to The Gambia and worked for a British company collecting and transporting ground nuts from up river down to the port of Banjul. At this time this was the largest export from The Gambia and was a somewhat lucrative venture. He took his profits and bought boat for transport and then much later diversified and bought a candy factory and secured much property. We would sit and talk and he would tell me stories of what it was like living in West Africa so long ago. On one occasion he told me the story of his exploits discovering new villages to do business with up The River Gambia and coming upon one that worshiped a giant crocodile that had killed many villagers over the years. He asked the villagers to show him this Crocodile God and upon seeing it quickly dispensed with it with his shot gun saying" there isn't room for two Gods in The Gambia. He was very fond of reading the Koran in Arabic, but was born a Christian. He believed that all religion was nonsense, but for the Africans, they treated this wise old man like a Marabou or Imam. He was known all over The Gambia and it was quite common for him to take African children and adopt them and teach them a skill or send them to school and make things better for many people, of this he will always be remembered. There was an Army barracks behind His compound and often you would see him sitting with many soldiers at his feet reciting pages from the Koran to these attentive listeners. One of his regular pupils was none other than now Doctor Colonel Elhadji Yaya AJJ Jammeh retired the now leader of The Gambian people. On another journey we were driving down a bush road going towards the stone circles of Wassu and we stopped to ask directions. We were being accompanied by my old friend who we were giving a ride to Georgetown. There were three villagers on the road standing by a donkey cart and a stack of wood. I sat in the back seat listening to the tone of the conversation and hearing excited and lewd words. It so happened as the story was later relayed to me that a man had ordered wood from a wood cutter and then a third man was contracted to transport the wood. That sounds simple enough, but what happened was the one man didn't like the quality of this wood and refused to pay which could have ended in a murder, they were from different tribes but because of our elderly gentleman’s presence it was decided to hold court right on the road and my old friend was to be the judge according to Islamic Law. Our driver was Wolof and so became the Wolof counterparts counselor and my friend who was Lebanese became the others lawyer. The trial lasted about an hour in which time all had their say. It was decided that two men had provided a service but both were incomplete the man had cut the wood, but it was unsatisfactory to the other and so a reduction was in order or the man could refund the money and take it all back. In delivery which was a Fulla man, it also was not complete because the one man did not accept delivery. The verdict was a reduction in price and the delivery would still take place. All ended up happy with the decision and we were back on our way. It was told to me that left without this trial that a murder could have very definitely taken place and that this is often how matters are handled out in the bush. This is not to say that life in West Africa is a lawless mess on the contrary. In many instances British law is in strict force and the Koran is very strict with many laws as well. In the bush though Koranic law is all they have and many disputes are then handled by the Marabouts where curses and jujus and other magic ceremonies are the mainstay of village life or the village chief. Another time while driving on a lonely bush road once we had a tire blowout and pulled over to change tires. It was me and my driver Mbye. While Mbye was changing the tire I saw off in the distance four men walking towards us. They were carrying machetes and looking very ominous. About fifty feet from the vehicle they stopped and stood staring and a fear welled up inside of me foretelling of an imminent attack. They just watched us with weapons in hand. I went to Mbye to tell him, because he was busy changing the tire and he broke out in laughter. He told me that there was nothing to worry about that we were only providing them with entertainment. It so happens that after a hard days work in the field the village gets together and talks of things that happened throughout the day. Since there is so rarely anything to talk about this would provide them with much interesting conversation. Upon hearing this I felt much more relaxed and took out my camera and showed these villagers some of the video I had been shooting we would be the entertainment for this village tonight.
Now here is a coincidence later I found out that one of these villagers just happened to be none other than Ousman Badjeh Jallow and it was this mystical meeting that connected me to Samio. So Samio seems now to be the cord that binds me to this mysterious land with it’s strange cultures. If you ever saw the Movie “ Big Fish” then you can relate to everything I write because it actually happened and how I shot my video compliments what I write about and is another perspective and creates a clearer picture.


THE COLE FAMILY:
It was around the time that I met the Cole Family. They were very affluent by Gambian standards owing much to Monika who is German Bavarian woman who owns with another German man three successful businesses. She had done some amateur video on her mulatto child Samba and had dreams of making this boy into a star. He is a beautiful child with long curly Rasta hair and a beautiful smile. It was through this introduction that I was to accompany them on their journeys and have the opportunity to travel in places where I wouldn't have been able to go and in a way that so very few ever get to see West Africa from an insiders point of view. The Coles are not typical, because Monika is German and a very strong willed woman and Moussa is a typical African male. In this society's double standards the white woman is afforded many privileges that the African woman does not have and in a way Moussa resents Monika ,feeling that he is just a monkey on her string. This is an attitude that pervades the new Africa where many blacks want what the white people have and have not even a clue as how things are created or how to maintain it effectively. Where the whites have been driven out ,the blacks are unable to keep things running properly and most everything falls into decay and mismanagement. His dreams though in the beginning were to make a name in the music business as a guitar player and singer, but his style isn’t widely appreciated and the future for a fifty three year old African musician is very limited especially one caught up in a music that isn't widely accepted by his own people. Monika tries to make him feel good about himself and his music, spending money on instruments , clothes and even paying for and promoting a tour for him in Europe. I realized that when my old friend and I had journeyed up river on his last long journey we stayed at Monika’s camp just before they officially open it called Jang Jan Bury Camp in Georgetown home of the infamous slave house from Alex Haley’s “Roots”. I became close friends with the Coles and traveled on many journeys with them and created my documentary called “ The Samba Project” which has much more information concerning life and my time in West Africa. Here is just one chapter the last one from the Project and what I have on video.. One thing I must say before about Moussa. He spoke twelve languages and without this talent it would have been impossible to go to the places and communicate effectively and this is a wonder that made My Samba Project something exceptional and I hope someday that I will finish posting it and making it available to anyone wanting to know about this strange and far away place and it is a cultural must for posterity and can never be replaced.

THE ATTACK:
I had trouble sleeping that night, the air was very stagnant and I woke to a stillness and the quietness that comes after a newly fallen snow. I emerged from my quarters to find a deep fog all around me, but this was different. It was the Hamattan from the Sahara and what looked like fog was an intense and thick dust that hung in the air. It was everywhere and was so fine that even a closed refrigerator door would not be able to keep it out. I was afraid it would destroy my video gear and I didn't even want to venture outside because everyone was coughing and it was not an atmosphere that was healthful. Because I was staying in a hut with no glass windows, I found that a layer of this dust was all over my bed and the floors, everywhere, but it was still much better to be indoors than outside. This is a freak storm, but one that I had seen before and happens about once every four or five years and is becoming much more common due to the encroaching Sahara invading the Sahel which is slowly becoming desert because of the deforestation and the diminishing rainfall from the rainy seasons. I spent the rest of the morning taping up my camera with plastic and duct tape to completely seal it from the dust. We expected the dust to stay thick for a couple of days but were surprised by afternoon that we could see and it was diminishing. Today was to be the coming out dance for the male circumcision ceremony of the Mandinka tribe in Georgetown which promised to be very colorful and exciting. It was a unique opportunity because after taping the Bassari girls circumcision dance in the Fouta Jallon Highlands now this ceremony replete with their mask demons would prove to be a great addition to the cultural aspect of yet another distinct tribe. I had heard many stories about their mask men called the Kankoran which terrorized the villagers running rampant and given the status of a god and a law unto itself. Famous stories abounded about the violent nature of these beings and how they would wait in trees and then fall upon unsuspecting men and women and beat them unmercifully. The Kankoran is called a guardian spirit by the Mandinka which embodies the spirit of the bush and is sent out to impart with the elders the secret doctrine of the tribe to the circumcised boys. I was told for a period of up to three weeks these beings are given drugs and starved and are put into this state for the sole purpose of scaring the boys and keeping alive the superstition and power of the Marabout’s or the priests. I was looking forward to this ceremony because Moussa was well known to this tribe, being from Georgetown and he had much time to prepare them for the video tapping and there would be over a thousand people in all their finery and I would tape this never before seen event. As we crossed the river through the clouds of the Hammatan dust on our way through Georgetown I noticed that the downtown was like a ghost town. Everyone was on there way to the ceremony. Farther into the bush as we approached I saw many people in their bright colored dress and they greeted Moussa and Samba. We walked on and the stream of people became more pronounced until we were entering a very big field where there were many people. The young boys were sitting on the ground in headdress and many colored beads signifying that they were of the circumcision ceremony and immediately I noticed the masked men. I heard that this was a very unusual event because for the first time there were ten Kankorans from all over the Gambia and the Casamance which is the area of southern Senegal bordering Guinea Bissau. The Casamance has been in a constant state of civil unrest with many military factions fighting to break away from the rule of Senegal. Lot's of murders and small skirmishes between these groups continue to be a problem and it is very unsafe for most foreigners to venture there. It also borders Guinea Bissau which continues to be in a state of civil war and is one of the poorest countries in Africa. Monika had to stay behind as Moussa and Samba and I ventured forward into the inner circle. I immediately recognized a man who usually drives the boat over the river for their camp. We traded cordialities and then someone came by to say not to photograph until there was official clearance. I had my tally light turned off but kept the camera going, but didn't look into the view finder. After a moment I was signaled to follow Moussa and proceed to the heart of the ceremony which was due to begin in front of the tribe. I was running tape as we approached and then Moussa had words with someone and then beckoned me to the front. I followed through the circle and directly in front of a row of initiates. All of a sudden I felt the sting of being smacked from behind only to turn and face a Kankoran with two machetes in hand. I immediately put my camera to me hip and replaced the Len’s cap and heard the ranting of a masked devil in a language I could not understand. This thing was jumping up and down then turned and ran back fifty paces. I turned and looked for Moussa and Samba, but they were no where to be found. Once again I felt intense pain of being struck three times. Turning again I was again facing this masked being who was grabbing for my camera which was still at my hip trying to tear it from my grasp. Out of instinct I took a stance knowing that the next attack would be face to face as this thing began to run at me brandishing it's machete. Things became like slow motion and I thought this maybe it, but if I had to I could use my camera as protection. At that moment an unknown black man jumped in front of me and pushed me forward and yelled in English to run and I found my legs. He was right on my tail and the devil right behind him as we dashed into the main crowd that contained the regular tribesman and the women. While running thoughts of how easily I could have lost my life in that split second and that there was nothing anyone would do or no one to stand responsible because I was encroaching on their hidden ceremony the only white man, it would be construed as legal. My adrenaline was racing and I stood back in the crowd camera fixed on this psychotic creature as he stormed around terrorizing whoever got in his way. This was not my day and I was happy when I realized that Hey I'm still alive after all and this was one close call and why did it happen? I was also surprised because this tribe had much more exposure to Europeans and was in fact the once ruling class of The Gambia and looking back at how civilly I was treated in the remote animist society in the isolated location of Bassariland and the difference made me wonder if there was something else possibly going on that I was unaware of. Later I was to find that this Kankoran was a stranger to this local and was from the war torn Casamance southern Senegal that isn't friendly to outsiders and didn't respond to the dictates of the elders and because of the standing of the Kankoran which is considered a King or God during this time, took this as a truth to be a law unto himself. In this drug induced state the Kankoran was ending it's three week reign as a God and is known to hide in waiting scaring people and on rare occasions even maiming passers by. He scares the children and even the villagers during this time and there have been many that have reported killings done by these drug crazed Gods of the bush and who would ever know or be held responsible I was technically the intruder..
Shortly after that event I left The Gambia though I continued to work on The Samba Project to date it remains unfinished and as for the Coles? A year after I left Moussa died from what was termed a pneumo thorax / collapsed lung. Moussa always had a cough and likely in a coughing fit his lung collapsed, and with no medical facilities close by - oh well, but then again there are rarely autopsies in West Africa. A year after that Monika traveled to Australia for medical treatment because of an infection Ocular Herpes and six month later died from what was termed Viral Encephalitis, but what use to be called The White Mans Graveyard or the Gambia remains a dangerous place to live.

So is it Samio that causes so many deaths in my life since I met him Oussman my Father, Mother , Sister., Niece ,Aunt , Brother in Law, Moussa, Monika and many of my closest personal friends, have passed on. The names just keep coming ,more and more from my memories but then again like I said one thing I know for sure. “No one gets out of here alive.” And I always knew a lot of people anyways and Oh yeah! even I was told I was dying, but maybe Samio protects me. So much I managed to retain in my video library, but everything is just dust in the wind.. This is just a small example of what I have.

So your guess is as good as mine and all the so called psychics didn’t give me much more information and I have always believed if you can’t see it yourself then everything and everyone that professes to have the answer is suspect. We are all here like in a waiting room actually, just waiting to be called or to die and when it’s our time we go and it is only then when we will know. I will get some answers from what was an extraordinary journey and I was fortunate to record for whatever reason much of what I saw and the place I went to, but that is the book of my life and my library to which this is just a small example.

Even this space where I am including something’s from my library or my book, no one really knows it’s there and yet I continue to work on it and my book for whoever stumbles across it by accident and maybe will find something important for them- Oh well enough said for now. Now Samio is on EBAY check him out and you tell me..

interesting article, but the son of perdition has been in the bottemless pit for some time, how old was he.

sorry that link didn't seem to work here it is again http://jesus-survival.com/son-of-perdition-revealed.htm