This pygmy clan was led by the old man with his hand over his mouth. He was like the pygmies’ Ghandi. He refused to let the forest ways die, and refused to live an undignified life as a slave to the Bantu village. He was shown great respect by the young men.

When I returned in 1999, I was desperate to find him, hoping that he was still alive. He had died, though, and all had changed. I found what was left of the clan on the outskirts of the village. Zimbata, looking up at lower left, was forever changed and preferred to work with the white men. He joined the Megatransect for eight months.