Jean-Marie Blas De Robles - Where Tigers Are at Home

So one fine morning Dr. Alban Gibbs arrived at the Roman College accompanied by Friedrich Ulrich Calixtus, professor of Oriental Languages at the University & a delegate, on this occasion, of the Accademia dei Lincei . Six foot tall, with remarkably fine & regular features, Chus came in, handcuffed and escorted by two guards, a necessary precaution because of his numerous attempts to remove his person from the curiosity of interested gentlemen. Kircher received his visitors in the great gallery of his museum. His first concern was to free the prisoner of his chains, & that despite Calixtus’s reiterated warnings. Surprised, but apparently very pleased at this, Chus bowed to my master; then, turning haughtily to Calixtus, he said in his deep voice, “ Ko goóga! Ò ò maudo no bur mâ ‘aldude!’ ” 2

Calixtus started back in fear at the threatening vehemence of these words, but the negro immediately calmed down. Fascinated, it seemed, by the sight of the collections around him, he did not cease to roll his terrible eyes as he looked at one object then another. With a gesture Kircher invited him to sit down, but Chus refused with a smile: “ Si mi dyodike, mi dânato .” 3Then, pointing to the books filling one of the bookcases, “ Miñ mi fota yidi wiñdugol dêfte …” 4

Kircher seemed pleased at his interest. “ Libri ,” he said in Latin, pointing to the objects he was naming, “books.”

“Libi, libi?” the negro repeated in astonishment.

“Li … bri …” my master said, emphasizing it by splitting the word into syllables.

“Li-bi-li … Libilibiru! ” 5he exclaimed, delighted at having managed to imitate such a difficult word.

“That’s right,” my master said, congratulating his guest, “books.” I think we’re beginning to understand each other. “Now something more difficult: millia librorum , thousands of books.”

“Mi yâ libilibiru? Mi yâdii libilibiru! ” 6the negro repeated, slapping his thighs in amusement. Then he shook his head with a very pitying look. “ Lorra ‘alaa … Ha’i fetudo no’àndi bu’ataake e dyâlirde .” 7

“You did well to bring this man to me,” Kircher said to Gibbs. “His dialect is unknown to me although I believe I can see some similarities to ancient tongues. But let us proceed in an orderly fashion. You gave me to understand that he knows Arabic writing & that is doubtless where we will find some way of making progress. Caspar, an escritoire & some paper, please.”

While I was thus occupied, Chus stopped in front of a stuffed hyena & expressed his joy with many exclamations and much slapping of his thighs: “ Heï, Bonôru! Ko dyûde hombo sôdu dâ? ” 8

“See,” Kircher commented, “he’s recognized an animal from his country. That is another purpose my collections serve, & not the least either. I am sure that any man, whichever nation he came from, would find himself in familiar surroundings here since nature is our true homeland.”

My master went over to Chus &, showing him the escritoire, indicated his wish to see him describe on paper the animal that had provoked such joy. The negro seemed happy with this invitation. He concentrated for a moment then, sitting down on the floor, wrote a short paragraph in a language that perfectly resembled Arabic & handed his work to Kircher with evident satisfaction:

“You were right,” my master said after having glanced through the text, “this is definitely Arabic as far as the form of the letters is concerned, but it is meaningless—& I believe I know, besides Syrian, Coptic & Persian, all the dialects that employ this script. Let us now try a reverse attempt. Make sure, Caspar, that you note down precisely everything he says.”

Expressing himself by gestures, Kircher asked Chus to read out loud the passage he had written.

“ Gnyande go’o bonôru ,” the negro began once he understood what was being asked of him, “ arii tawi yimbe no hirsi nagge ” 9—at this point he changed his voice to a higher register, mimicking the actions of someone asking for something to eat: “ okkorè lan tèwu .” 10Then, in his normal voice again, he went on, “ Be wi’i be ‘okkataa si wonaa bonôrudün limana be hâ timma sappo, hara du wi’aali go’o …” 11

“Very good,” said Kircher, interrupting him, “everything seems to suggest that what we have here is an original way of translating, by means of a borrowed script, the sounds of a language that does not possess one of its own. It is, after a fashion, a steganography comparable to—”

“ Mi lannaali woulande ma! ” 12Chus cried, interrupting my master in his turn. “ Wota dâru fuddôde, daru timmôde .” 13

We were so dumbfounded by the fit of anger, that our man had time to continue his reading: “ Bonôrudün m î dyii sèda du wi’i: Kono si mi limii hâ yonii sappo hara mi wi’ aali go’o mi hebaï tèwu? Be wi’i: ‘a hebaï. Du wi’i: Be’i didi e gertogal dâre si wonaa sappo be wi’i ko sappo. Be ‘okkidu tèwu, du feddyi .” 14

After a pause & as if he were telling us an important secret, he said in conclusion. “ Hâden dyoïdo, no metti fó lude .” 15

“And they weren’t lying, either,” Kircher said, pointing out how proud the man was. “It’s clear he did not like being interrupted while he was speaking … So, as I was saying when he paid me back in my own coin, his language is related to written Arabic in the same way as music is to any system of notation. Let me explain: the Topinambus of Brazil could not write their language when we encountered them for the first time; but our missionaries taught them to use the Latin syllabary to represent its sounds so that today those of the savages that have made the effort are able to write down what they have to say in their own language. If the Mahommedans had landed in Brazil instead of the Portuguese, the Topinambus would be transcribing their language in Arabic script today, just as this negro here has done.”

We all automatically turned to look at Chus; leaning on the windowsill, he had lost interest in us and was looking at the sky, apparently sad to see nothing but leaden clouds announcing a storm.

Kircher picked up the phonetic translation I had made while Chus was reading out what he had written. He spent a long time going through it, then underlined some words that seemed to have attracted his attention. “Could it be …” he murmured to himself. “Everything is possible. I am in your hands, my Lord.”

“Have you perhaps discovered what language the man is speaking?” Gibbs asked.

“Perhaps, but it is such a crazy hypothesis that first of all I’d like to show you what suggested it to me. Please take a look at the words I’ve underlined here: if I break up bonôru , I get bonô & ru , that is, the adjective “good” in Italian & the word for “breath” or “spirit” as it appears in Hebrew. Which I would be tempted to translate as “the good spirit” or, even better, “the holy spirit.”

“By my truth, that’s true,” Calixtus said admiringly. “This language appears to consist of a marvelous mixture of all the others & it took your unique and multifarious knowledge to see that so quickly. But what deductions do you make from that?”

“I deduce its origins, sir, or at least I assume them, with a clarity that seems more likely with every second. Since it appears logically impossible for this language to have been formed through contact with all the others, which would suppose that the tribe had gone all over the earth without being able to speak, that compels us to presume its preexistence: could it not be the first language from which the angels took the substance of the five languages instilled in mankind after the fall of the Tower of Babel?”