This town is full of monsters
With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick, and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
And there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself:
Where is my mind?
Where is my mind?
Where is my mind?
Way out in the water, see it swimmin’
Swahili possesses some priceless expressions. “Pole,” (pronounced pole-lay), is one such expression. It is the universal Swahili word for “sucks to be you,” regardless of the degree of suck. Friend stubs his toe? Toss him a pole. Shopkeeper’s store is robbed? Pole! Neighbor’s mother just died? A pole is appropriate. Really, a handy word. It also happens to be this month’s theme! Pole Zanzibar. Pole, more than enough.
Without reservation I can say that this past month has been the strangest of my entire life. Remember our old pal Popo Bawa, everyone’s favorite serial sodomite bat demon? Remember how I said witchdoctors were predicting his imminent return? Well, my friends, Popo returned with a vengeance, and he went medieval on the folk of my little island.
Now, my last blog entry prompted an unprecedented flood of emails. As much as I would like to think my sharp wit and brilliant prose are to thank, I am willing to concede that it was perhaps something else that drew your particular interest. I am an engineer, after all, not a writer. No, I’m gonna go ahead and surmise that it was the universal hilarity of an anal raping bat demon on the loose that got you all excited (sickos).
Following my last post, a couple of you were kind enough to send me a link to a BBC article discussing a recent Popo hysteria in Dar es Salaam. It seems that in late February Popo returned from exile, and his first stop was Dar. People slept in the streets and on rooftops (Popo can’t get you if you’re not in your bed), built bonfires, and were in a general state of mass panic. As it so happened, us island volunteers were going to Dar the very next week for a Peace Corps conference. Oh joy!
A couple days before my journey to Dar, one of my students approached me with perhaps the most excited grin I’ve ever seen. He was so pleased he could barely get his words out. Apparently the night before he had finally completed training his pet shetani (shetani is Swahili for demon). With its new training, his shetani could now protect him from a Popo Bawa attack. Now, as much as I wanted to let out a chuckle, by the impressed looks of the other students listening I sensed this was no laughing matter. I did manage to get a few questions out though. What does his supernatural friend look like? Hard to explain, plus foreigners are unable to see it without special training. Where does it sleep? An empty glass bottle. Can a person have multiple pet shetani? Absolutely, (gotta catch ‘em all!). What do they eat? Animal sacrifices once a month. What exactly is used in the demon training process? Green magic, (silly question I guess). Peace Corps Tanzania is rapidly turning into Dungeons and Dragons.
Green magic. And why not, right? A bit later another student offered me a longer explanation about the magical forces of the world. She’s one of the local green magic experts, a child prodigy of sorts. Very well respected. So, the world has two types of magic: Blue and Green. Blue magic is only used for evil. A powerful blue wizard is capable of telekinetic feats, flying, throwing lighting bolts, and summoning blue magic shetani. Blue magic shetani include Popo Bawa and Genies. General opinion is that Popo Bawa attacks are the result of government-trained sorcerers of the mainland trying to terrorize the islands. (There’s a long history of political conflict between the Zanzibar Islands and the Tanzanian mainland, but that’s the topic for another time). Blue magic can be countered by two forces: Green magic and Allah. Pray hard enough, and if you’re very lucky, Popo can’t getcha.
Green magic, on the other hand, is neither good nor evil. It is more subtle than Blue, and is used in charms, protection spells, curses, and possessions. A Green magic oracle is even capable of future predicting visions. Green magic is very powerful, and even prayer cannot be used to counter it completely. Cursed by a Green spell, I’m afraid it’s a trip to the local witchdoctor for you. The girl explained this all to me with such fervor and sincerity, I was actually kind of touched by her heartfelt explanation. Upon returning home I asked some of my neighbors about my new “understanding” of the world, and they concurred that, indeed, this is how the magical forces of the world operate. They all insisted that I was a damn fool for not bringing any protection, (whether magical or Islamic), with me to Dar. Popo Bawa was on the prowl, after all. Now, I ain’t afraid of no ghosts, so I was willing to take my chances.
Despite not having a spirit-in-a-bottle, I managed to avoid any Popo attacks. My Dar trip was actually really great. It was my first time in more than 3 months off the island, and oh man did it feel good. After three months out in the boonies, Dar was a glowing beacon of civilization.
The conference’s purpose was to provide training to Peace Corps volunteers and our Tanzanian school counterparts for HIV/AIDS education. Most of the information was very useful, and my counterpart and I have now started putting together a program to train local teachers to teach primary and secondary school students about HIV/AIDS. After a week long conference about the reality of AIDS in Africa, it’s hard to not get involved. Tanzania, in particular, has been devastated by the virus. Scientists think the virus even originated in the lake region of Uganda and northwest Tanzania. Infection rates in Tanzania are believed to be above 10%. Scary stuff. HIV/AIDS education here is an uphill battle, but hopefully we’ll be able to reach a few people. Many Tanzanians are convinced that infection is caused by an angry god or evil spirits. Take the appropriate spiritual measures, and you have nothing to worry about. If evil spirits can give HIV/AIDS, than my island is screwed. Popo Bawa gets around.
Lucky for all of us, Popo Bawa had actually already left Dar by the time we arrived. He’d migrated north to Tanga, a staging ground before the ruthless onslaught on his island homelands. (I’m not entirely sure just how his travel plans became public knowledge… Green magic witchdoctor foresight?) His attack on my island would start in the southern port town, and from there he would travel north, ultimately to my town. His arrival just so happened to coincide with our return from the conference. Lucky. (Popo Bawa Tanzania Tour 2007 t-shirts are pending.)
Admittedly, when I returned home Popo Bawa was not on the top of my list of concerns. It seems while in Dar I managed to pick up a nice case of Amoebic Dysentery. I’m ok now, but over the course of about a week I managed to lose almost 10 pounds. No good. Another surprise after coming home was the complete absence of mosquitoes. Before I went to Dar mosquitoes at my village were a major problem. Apparently while I was away the government came and carpet-bombed my town with DDT. You all remember DDT, everyone’s favorite carcinogen of the 50’s! I guess people here decided cancer later was better than malaria now. The project is actually US funded I’ve learned. The US believes it has created a less cancerous version of DDT, but before using it in the Southern USA, (where malaria has returned thanks to global warming), they’re testing it in small parts of East Africa. In terms of insect slaughtering power, the stuff works! Word’s still out on the reduced cancer though… I’ll let you know in 10 years. Being a guinea pig ain’t easy, but someone’s gotta do it.
While a decent number of people in my town were slightly nervous about Popo Bawa before my trip to Dar, by the time I returned everyone was in absolute hysterics. Many people admitted to having been assaulted by the demon in recent days. Apparently when Popo is going medieval on his victims he makes a point to tell them that if they do not tell everyone about what happened then he will come back the next night for twice as long. As such, I’ve received more than a small number of sobering Popo confessions over the past few weeks. These aren’t just from the local quacks either; we’re talking about some of the most educated people in town. When a grown man comes to you and admits to being anally raped by a demon the night before, it’s not easy to come up with an appropriate response. Seriously, what can you possibly say to that? As multi-purposed as the word may be, I feel like even the most somber “pole” doesn’t quite capture just how much sympathy these tragic victims deserve.
What’s amazing is just how prolific Popo manages to be every night. I mean, that pesky demon covers a lot of ground (and people) over the course of a single night. After some serious thought, (when you’re living alone on an isolated African island, one has a lot of time on one’s hands), I’ve concluded that there are only two possibilities. Either there is more than one Popo Bawa, (the oldest horror movie trick in the book), or Popo is rocking some space-time bending Santa-esque powers. Popo Bawa: Santa of sodomy.
Now it might have been the insides-devouring parasites making me a bit delirious, but I have to admit that after a few days back in town even I was getting a bit freaked out by Popo. Every night I would hear countless screams across the countryside. One night while biking home from a friend’s house I heard a chilling “Allah! Acha Popo, acha! Nenda Popo!” coming from someone’s home. Translation: “Oh God! Stop Popo, stop! Get away Popo!”
At this point you may be thinking that it would be impossible for the situation on the island to get any weirder. You would be wrong. I’m pretty sure I now know what going mad feels like. One afternoon I was sitting in a small restaurant in town and I was pleasantly surprised to see a couple new faces. A couple of Christian missionaries from Sweden had come to the island to do a bit of work. Needing to get a lot off my chest, minutes after meeting these people I went an on enormous rant about the current Popo Bawa invasion and how crazy the entire town seemed to have gone. This was a bit of a faux pas. Apparently, these two already knew about the demons of the island. In fact, part of their mission here was to help combat the demon problem. Scandinavian demon hunters... no joke. They were convinced that the main problem here is that people try to use “good” demons and Islam to fight evil demons. Apparently there is no such thing as a good demon, and by using them the locals are opening up a door for evil demons to come through. Even the power of Allah is incapable of defeating the demon onslaught. Nay, only by accepting Jesus into their hearts will the good folk of the Zanzibar Islands be able to drive Popo Bawa and his brethren away for good.
While I was listening to this, I received a text message from one my more sensible and grounded students. It seems the night before Popo paid her a visit and proceeded to strangle and beat her with his magic. Fortunately, before Popo could succeed in doing what he does best, the girl’s magic shetani managed to drive him away.
The whole Popo Bawa scare hit its peak when storms of people began to take the streets at night in search of Popo and the evil wizards they believed were responsible for sustaining him. A couple men were stoned and beaten a week or so ago, (luckily they lived). A few nights ago, however, one accused sorcerer was killed. He was burned alive by an angry mob. The man was caught with some animal horns and other “magical” items. I mean, with such blatantly incriminating contraband, what else was there to do? I’d say the man got off light, really.
Word on the street is that Popo finally left the islands a day or two ago. (I guess the angry mob got the right guy?) People are still shaken up by the whole ordeal, but things are finally starting to get back to normal. I know I, for one, will never forget these past few weeks. I’m also proud to say that Popo never, uh, violated my sovereignty.
And now, everyone say it together:
“Pole Tanzania. Pole Zanzibar. Pole sana.”
Try this trick, and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
And there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself:
Where is my mind?
Where is my mind?
Where is my mind?
Way out in the water, see it swimmin’
Swahili possesses some priceless expressions. “Pole,” (pronounced pole-lay), is one such expression. It is the universal Swahili word for “sucks to be you,” regardless of the degree of suck. Friend stubs his toe? Toss him a pole. Shopkeeper’s store is robbed? Pole! Neighbor’s mother just died? A pole is appropriate. Really, a handy word. It also happens to be this month’s theme! Pole Zanzibar. Pole, more than enough.
Without reservation I can say that this past month has been the strangest of my entire life. Remember our old pal Popo Bawa, everyone’s favorite serial sodomite bat demon? Remember how I said witchdoctors were predicting his imminent return? Well, my friends, Popo returned with a vengeance, and he went medieval on the folk of my little island.
Now, my last blog entry prompted an unprecedented flood of emails. As much as I would like to think my sharp wit and brilliant prose are to thank, I am willing to concede that it was perhaps something else that drew your particular interest. I am an engineer, after all, not a writer. No, I’m gonna go ahead and surmise that it was the universal hilarity of an anal raping bat demon on the loose that got you all excited (sickos).
Following my last post, a couple of you were kind enough to send me a link to a BBC article discussing a recent Popo hysteria in Dar es Salaam. It seems that in late February Popo returned from exile, and his first stop was Dar. People slept in the streets and on rooftops (Popo can’t get you if you’re not in your bed), built bonfires, and were in a general state of mass panic. As it so happened, us island volunteers were going to Dar the very next week for a Peace Corps conference. Oh joy!
A couple days before my journey to Dar, one of my students approached me with perhaps the most excited grin I’ve ever seen. He was so pleased he could barely get his words out. Apparently the night before he had finally completed training his pet shetani (shetani is Swahili for demon). With its new training, his shetani could now protect him from a Popo Bawa attack. Now, as much as I wanted to let out a chuckle, by the impressed looks of the other students listening I sensed this was no laughing matter. I did manage to get a few questions out though. What does his supernatural friend look like? Hard to explain, plus foreigners are unable to see it without special training. Where does it sleep? An empty glass bottle. Can a person have multiple pet shetani? Absolutely, (gotta catch ‘em all!). What do they eat? Animal sacrifices once a month. What exactly is used in the demon training process? Green magic, (silly question I guess). Peace Corps Tanzania is rapidly turning into Dungeons and Dragons.
Green magic. And why not, right? A bit later another student offered me a longer explanation about the magical forces of the world. She’s one of the local green magic experts, a child prodigy of sorts. Very well respected. So, the world has two types of magic: Blue and Green. Blue magic is only used for evil. A powerful blue wizard is capable of telekinetic feats, flying, throwing lighting bolts, and summoning blue magic shetani. Blue magic shetani include Popo Bawa and Genies. General opinion is that Popo Bawa attacks are the result of government-trained sorcerers of the mainland trying to terrorize the islands. (There’s a long history of political conflict between the Zanzibar Islands and the Tanzanian mainland, but that’s the topic for another time). Blue magic can be countered by two forces: Green magic and Allah. Pray hard enough, and if you’re very lucky, Popo can’t getcha.
Green magic, on the other hand, is neither good nor evil. It is more subtle than Blue, and is used in charms, protection spells, curses, and possessions. A Green magic oracle is even capable of future predicting visions. Green magic is very powerful, and even prayer cannot be used to counter it completely. Cursed by a Green spell, I’m afraid it’s a trip to the local witchdoctor for you. The girl explained this all to me with such fervor and sincerity, I was actually kind of touched by her heartfelt explanation. Upon returning home I asked some of my neighbors about my new “understanding” of the world, and they concurred that, indeed, this is how the magical forces of the world operate. They all insisted that I was a damn fool for not bringing any protection, (whether magical or Islamic), with me to Dar. Popo Bawa was on the prowl, after all. Now, I ain’t afraid of no ghosts, so I was willing to take my chances.
Despite not having a spirit-in-a-bottle, I managed to avoid any Popo attacks. My Dar trip was actually really great. It was my first time in more than 3 months off the island, and oh man did it feel good. After three months out in the boonies, Dar was a glowing beacon of civilization.
The conference’s purpose was to provide training to Peace Corps volunteers and our Tanzanian school counterparts for HIV/AIDS education. Most of the information was very useful, and my counterpart and I have now started putting together a program to train local teachers to teach primary and secondary school students about HIV/AIDS. After a week long conference about the reality of AIDS in Africa, it’s hard to not get involved. Tanzania, in particular, has been devastated by the virus. Scientists think the virus even originated in the lake region of Uganda and northwest Tanzania. Infection rates in Tanzania are believed to be above 10%. Scary stuff. HIV/AIDS education here is an uphill battle, but hopefully we’ll be able to reach a few people. Many Tanzanians are convinced that infection is caused by an angry god or evil spirits. Take the appropriate spiritual measures, and you have nothing to worry about. If evil spirits can give HIV/AIDS, than my island is screwed. Popo Bawa gets around.
Lucky for all of us, Popo Bawa had actually already left Dar by the time we arrived. He’d migrated north to Tanga, a staging ground before the ruthless onslaught on his island homelands. (I’m not entirely sure just how his travel plans became public knowledge… Green magic witchdoctor foresight?) His attack on my island would start in the southern port town, and from there he would travel north, ultimately to my town. His arrival just so happened to coincide with our return from the conference. Lucky. (Popo Bawa Tanzania Tour 2007 t-shirts are pending.)
Admittedly, when I returned home Popo Bawa was not on the top of my list of concerns. It seems while in Dar I managed to pick up a nice case of Amoebic Dysentery. I’m ok now, but over the course of about a week I managed to lose almost 10 pounds. No good. Another surprise after coming home was the complete absence of mosquitoes. Before I went to Dar mosquitoes at my village were a major problem. Apparently while I was away the government came and carpet-bombed my town with DDT. You all remember DDT, everyone’s favorite carcinogen of the 50’s! I guess people here decided cancer later was better than malaria now. The project is actually US funded I’ve learned. The US believes it has created a less cancerous version of DDT, but before using it in the Southern USA, (where malaria has returned thanks to global warming), they’re testing it in small parts of East Africa. In terms of insect slaughtering power, the stuff works! Word’s still out on the reduced cancer though… I’ll let you know in 10 years. Being a guinea pig ain’t easy, but someone’s gotta do it.
While a decent number of people in my town were slightly nervous about Popo Bawa before my trip to Dar, by the time I returned everyone was in absolute hysterics. Many people admitted to having been assaulted by the demon in recent days. Apparently when Popo is going medieval on his victims he makes a point to tell them that if they do not tell everyone about what happened then he will come back the next night for twice as long. As such, I’ve received more than a small number of sobering Popo confessions over the past few weeks. These aren’t just from the local quacks either; we’re talking about some of the most educated people in town. When a grown man comes to you and admits to being anally raped by a demon the night before, it’s not easy to come up with an appropriate response. Seriously, what can you possibly say to that? As multi-purposed as the word may be, I feel like even the most somber “pole” doesn’t quite capture just how much sympathy these tragic victims deserve.
What’s amazing is just how prolific Popo manages to be every night. I mean, that pesky demon covers a lot of ground (and people) over the course of a single night. After some serious thought, (when you’re living alone on an isolated African island, one has a lot of time on one’s hands), I’ve concluded that there are only two possibilities. Either there is more than one Popo Bawa, (the oldest horror movie trick in the book), or Popo is rocking some space-time bending Santa-esque powers. Popo Bawa: Santa of sodomy.
Now it might have been the insides-devouring parasites making me a bit delirious, but I have to admit that after a few days back in town even I was getting a bit freaked out by Popo. Every night I would hear countless screams across the countryside. One night while biking home from a friend’s house I heard a chilling “Allah! Acha Popo, acha! Nenda Popo!” coming from someone’s home. Translation: “Oh God! Stop Popo, stop! Get away Popo!”
At this point you may be thinking that it would be impossible for the situation on the island to get any weirder. You would be wrong. I’m pretty sure I now know what going mad feels like. One afternoon I was sitting in a small restaurant in town and I was pleasantly surprised to see a couple new faces. A couple of Christian missionaries from Sweden had come to the island to do a bit of work. Needing to get a lot off my chest, minutes after meeting these people I went an on enormous rant about the current Popo Bawa invasion and how crazy the entire town seemed to have gone. This was a bit of a faux pas. Apparently, these two already knew about the demons of the island. In fact, part of their mission here was to help combat the demon problem. Scandinavian demon hunters... no joke. They were convinced that the main problem here is that people try to use “good” demons and Islam to fight evil demons. Apparently there is no such thing as a good demon, and by using them the locals are opening up a door for evil demons to come through. Even the power of Allah is incapable of defeating the demon onslaught. Nay, only by accepting Jesus into their hearts will the good folk of the Zanzibar Islands be able to drive Popo Bawa and his brethren away for good.
While I was listening to this, I received a text message from one my more sensible and grounded students. It seems the night before Popo paid her a visit and proceeded to strangle and beat her with his magic. Fortunately, before Popo could succeed in doing what he does best, the girl’s magic shetani managed to drive him away.
The whole Popo Bawa scare hit its peak when storms of people began to take the streets at night in search of Popo and the evil wizards they believed were responsible for sustaining him. A couple men were stoned and beaten a week or so ago, (luckily they lived). A few nights ago, however, one accused sorcerer was killed. He was burned alive by an angry mob. The man was caught with some animal horns and other “magical” items. I mean, with such blatantly incriminating contraband, what else was there to do? I’d say the man got off light, really.
Word on the street is that Popo finally left the islands a day or two ago. (I guess the angry mob got the right guy?) People are still shaken up by the whole ordeal, but things are finally starting to get back to normal. I know I, for one, will never forget these past few weeks. I’m also proud to say that Popo never, uh, violated my sovereignty.
And now, everyone say it together:
“Pole Tanzania. Pole Zanzibar. Pole sana.”
8 comments:
Hey Josh -
While googling Popo Bawa on the web (the recent spat of new attacks in Tanzania is noted) - I found several references that Pop Bawa becomes enraged if his existence is denied. So I just wanted to pass this important bit of information along: "Don't dis the monster!"
-- Patty
Dude that one eyed bat looks sexy
Josh,
I'm enjoying the posts. WIthout your writing I wouldn't even have known about the dire situation. It's good the socially responsible Scandinavians are there to fix things. Clearly the scientific Amarican skeptics aren't helping.
Cheers - Mark (Gregor's Dad)
dude, that sounds crazy. lemme know if you want me to send you any magic cards
Yes the anal raping one eyed bat fascinates me. How weird, to think that people would take things like that so seriously in some parts of the world!!
josh--
i am so happy you're alive. & unscathed.
stay alive,
love,
ritu
Sounds like their talking about Lucifer. The attacks on the bodies are how Luciferians sue. The thins that are used I usually write off to something that will burn. Lucifer goes after bodies. It can be dreams or eyes or ears, etc. This is why Lucifer is damned because he goes after human bodies. They need to call a priest and have Lucifer damned. Yes, it can be hard to kill something that isn't there.
The land issue is diffrent. Usually, it's the communists or socialist that go for land. The Muslim extemism seems to be the answer for those when the government is that.
The smuggler is interesting. It's not like it's drugs.
How ans who certified you in country? It would be nice to learn more about that.
RPCV
The US using East Africa as guinea-pigs for DDT is ethically irresponsible.
Religious missionaries are just as irresponsible and immoral.
Your work is invaluable but whatever good a missionary might do in Africa is offset by the criminal abuse of dire social situations to push a religious agenda.
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