The charge of the impetuous Ghanaian girl,
Act II of an erotic story, taking place in Ghana

fille de Kau


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My girl-friend was afraid. I pretended to slow down near the guard with a threatening look. My partner panic and implored me to go on. I was also afraid but I tried despite everything to think of the best attitude I should take on such a situation.

peuple de Kau

I slowed down near the guard still wearing his threatening look, I had not decided to stop yet but I had the certitude it was necessary to simulate a gesture of consent to their desires. Panic did not appear to be the best attitude and it is known that in Africa, palabra is generally the best tool to solve any critical situation. Above all I know that an armed African could easily lose his capacity to rational thinking.



I immobilized the vehicle in spite of the panic of my girl-friend and my camouflaged fears. The gathering was now more threatening.

I slowly lower the window of the car, I decided to negotiate.

They where at least a dozen and a few gendarmes armed with submachine guns. They all stopped working and some of them marched in our direction. They had a sinister look, their chest naked, the booboo rolled up to their hips, some of them whirled their machetes over their heads. I was now resigned and I ask with humility the reason of this ambuscade.


One of the convicts shout to me with threatening words:

- "you help, you help clean road, you work for country, for our beloved president, you help."


My instinct told me that I had the choice of the weapons and that I must obey their request, despite the absurdity of the gesture, I opened my door, my girl-friend begged me to remain. It was too late to change my mind, and I moved towards one group of men and ask for a machete:

- "give me a machete, I volunteer myself to help clean the road for the good of the country."

My gesture produced a certain effect over the group. The faces where transformed. There was some satisfied laughs. I won the game it seems. I was no more this obscure visitor from elsewhere, an other of these distant white men or one of these arrogant African bureaucrats speeding by, barricaded behind the smoked windows of their black Mercedes, I did stopped and I offered my humble contribution to the edifying of this marvelous and admirable socialist republic of Ghana supervised by its magnanimous President. One of the convicts came forward smiling and manipulated his machete under my nose. I felt more a derision in this gesture than threatening, he throw his machete away on the side of the road, I undestood from his gestures that he told me to go and get it. Some laughs accompanied his action. I had the impression I create a pause, a kind of recreation, the guardians where more relaxed and they only intervened to avoid over-enthousiasm for me. They pushed back the men too audacious.


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I took some steps towards the machete laying motionless on the side of the road near the steep embankment. I leaned forward to pick it up. At the same moment, I felt a light blast along my face, the blade of a machete just droned into the ground near my fingers. A strange feeling invades me I feared I had left some fingers, only a small portion of nail from my index was cut off, I was stunned, there was not a single trace of blood.



fille de Kau Looking forward at a short distance, there where two fine legs, of a copper like darkness, largely opened and firmly planted onto the ground, I could see the bracelets of multicolored pearls which adorned the calves, tiny feet from which we could see the white contour of the bottom of the feet contrasting with the blackness of the skin. I understood there was at the end of these slim trunks, an anachronistic fille de Kau actor.

I raised my eyes and I discovered with a calculated slowness, all the carnal details attached to these rigid legs, the coarsely carved body of a young girl.


She was naked fille de Kau except for a loincloth loosely rolled up around her waist and which let foreseen prominent ritual tattoos decorating the vicinity of her solar plexus. Her breasts jumped in front of my face, like arrogant peaks, fille Mobaye du Congo they did not carry yet the irreversible traces of the erosion of time.

fille de Kau She was still a young little girl.



fille de Côte d'Ivoire I could see her face, stripped linear drawings with kaolin like a mask dissimulated between her spread breasts, her mouth, inordinately widened by a mocker smile which let foreseen fangs of an astonishing whiteness. Then the globe of her eyes, immensely white which seemed to come out of their orbit, all that on a scenery of an great blackness, rendering the other details of her body almost invisible. She had no hair, or yes, some little curly humps, black and greasy that seem to be part of her scull decorated with cauris and some multicolored pearls.

She made no gesture to pick up the machete. Her arms spread beyond her hips. Arching her legs in a provocative stance, she laughed and waited, a retaliation it seems. I heard in the distance the approving laughter of her companions of sorrow. She was ready for a fight as a tiger-cat sure of herself. She was the only female of the group.


Then without any warning, as if she had just given me the time necessary to measure her, she thrown herself on me accompanying her dash of a fearful howling similar to that of a wild animal. I did not have time to think, her sharp nipples drove into my skin through the fabric of my shirt. The shock was sudden. I rocked over towards the lower part of the road. She clunged to me like an intrepid wrestler, her arms and her legs winded around my body, we formed from now on a single entity. We rolled in the ravine overlapping one into the other. The details of the ground I could feel it, encrusted in my back. I rolled up my arms around her body as to better absorb the irregularities of the ground, my fingers encrusted in her flesh which had the consistency of leather.

I could feel her breath on my face, the spasms of her chest which already hammered my thorax, her rigid flesh, odorous, that raked up my flesh, I felt her body delirious, in primal trances, feed by desire, by concupiscence, an out of control sexual energy.


She flattened herself on me like a wild beast. She wriggled herself and I felt the sharp nipples of her breasts driving deeply into my sensible flesh, her abdominal tattoos plough my stomach and irritate my sexual organs when passing by, the motley amulets which hanged to her neck ambedded in my skin, I felt the wake in me of an uncontrolable erotic metamorphosis.

And we rolled like this, without constraint, sweeping the groves passing by, displacing the stones, the scattered detritus, slowing down, accelerating following the profile of the slope, losing temporarily the sunlight, finding it back scintillating, then losing it again, tirelessly thrown into a frantic fall which had no end and which welded us togheter in a wild animal embrace, ritual, almost fatal.

She attacked me with her tongue, her teeth, to my facial bodies, to my tongue, to my nostrils, she bit them and I felt like being devoured by a greedy and starving animal, moreover I sense it with a certain masochist pleasure. Then I felt she handled my phallus with her nervous fingers, activating it with a jerked movement, accelerating, without any shame, accompanying the rolling of our fall. Her gestures where impatient but marked by a kind of sexual magic, she forced deliberately the awakening of my senses that took no long to answer all her expectations.


Then I felt my lingham rigid like a gravure rupestre, Ti-n-Lalan, Fezzan crossbow drowned into the muddy liquid which overflow already her largely open vagina, it crossed over narrow gullies obstructed by rigid stalactites, get stuck, freed itself, bounced under the upping of our bodies in free fall, plowing the sharpen tattoos of her belly, plunge again, drowned, crash under the sudden closing of her uterus, get wounded, twisted, then deflated, spit violently its venom, making her twist from pleasure or suffering, groan from pain or ecstasy, feel her fingers sinking more deeply in my flesh, tracing into it deep grooves, scarifying my face of her incisive tooth, twisting me, writhing me, wounding me, under the impetuous action of her arms, of her legs, and explode, groan intensely, get twisted, feel the ecstasy, the diabolical orgy, the initiatory copulation, the ultimate end, the eternal sleep.



Our bodies immobilizes at that very moment.


While my belly still emptied its venom, I could feel her immobile under my suddenly relaxed body. She did not move. Her face reflected serenity, satisfaction, the accomplished pleasure.



I had a strange feeling. My sexgravure rupestre, Ti-n-Lalan, Fezzan always resting in her belly, motionless, penitent. I had this strange feeling, a mixture of satisfaction and uncomfortable euphoria which accompany the awakening of a carnal relation with a human being of an other culture, of an other race, this strange feeling to have transgress immutable laws, taboos, to have cross the border between the cultures, take part into an initiation rite, to have violate her tribe, betray my tribe, transgress the moral borders of our respective tribes, betray the mothers, the spouses, the husbands, the women of my tribe, the men of her tribe, it was that I believe the indefinable spleen, the mysterious euphoria which furnished my spirit, for a moment in time, my lingham always hidden in the secret corridors of her belly of young primitive girl.

Marco Polo or the imaginary journey (Translated from Contes et légendes érotiques d'Afrique, november 1998) © 1996 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
(tribute to Leni Riefenstahl and the beautiful people of Kau)

ACT III