SPECTRE OF HORROR

By Omoseye Bolaji

I basked in the salubrious atmosphere – although I was alone. Temporarily. The breeze was most edifying and I watched people of disparate colours moving hither and thither. I was sipping my drink VERY slowly; till Anna Marie suddenly metamorphosed beside me.


Anna Marie is a (white) lady who relishes the world of arts and culture. She just suddenly came to me and said: “Hi!” We exchanged pleasantries. “You are not supposed to be here alone?” she said nigh-accusingly. We chatted for a few minutes then a gentleman – also white - appeared. And she said to him, without actually mentioning his name to me:

“Hi...this is Mr Bolaji...he writes books...I know you like books; pity I have to run...” The gentleman to my surprise sat down beside me and ordered some drinks for himself. Meanwhile he tentatively engaged me about books, authors etc. “Yes, I love reading books. I have a library at home,” he vouchsafed. “But I must confess my knowledge of Black African, not even to say South African Black authors is very limited,”

So I became a ‘blabbermouth” for the next 20 minutes or so! Talking about notable Black writers not only in South Africa, but the African continent at large. Thereafter the gentleman insisted we must talk about my own writings too – and I briefly introduced him to my corpus of published work, as it were.

By now I no longer felt I was with a stranger, though that was what he was even now essentially. Now that there was a pause, I managed to say to him: “By the way, I am going on and on...such bad manners on my part... If you don’t mind, what is your name?”

The gentleman smiled, and said. “My name is Robespierre.”

I flinched. I suppose we are all largely haunted by the past; what we learnt when we were youngsters. In those days we had been taught what was apparently superficial knowledge about the French revolution of those days. The horrors of the past, starting with the storming of the Bastille and all that. The Guillotine. Horrific executions...

And we learnt in those days about “the reign of Terror” in France over 200 years ago. The most prominent name was that of Robespierre! His name for even centuries has been synonymous with bloodshed, heads rolling! Around 1793 – 1794 in France of yore; including the execution of King Louis and Marie Antoinette. And Robespierre, then lawyer and voluble politician was all for the King to die! Sort of spectre of horror...

‘Robespierre’ grinned at me now. “I can see you know about the most famous Robespierre in history,” he said. “Maximilien de Robespierre. French history – but that’s a long time ago.”

He went on: “My name is just a name – it took me some time to realise the ‘significance’ of my name and possible frightening connotations as it were. ...but we must also remember that the famed historical Robespierre was not all evil...for example he was one of the important people who long ago fought against the abolition of the slave trade which affected Black people so much negatively; such a long time ago, which showed his vision.”

I recalled now that the original Robespierre himself died in horrific fashion, in terrible pain after his jaw was shattered – by a bullet? History has recorded that even at the scaffold he was screaming with trenchant pain before the (guillotine) blade silenced him. But the point is that Robespierre will continue to be identified with those terrible days.

And the Guillotine. I knew in my mind that I would always associate this gentleman in this wise. Not that it was his fault. I said now: “Ag, it doesn’t matter. Pleased to meet you...”

Above pic: the historical Robespierre