MICHAEL CRICHTON

There was a soft creak as the farmhouse door opened. Munro picked up themachine gun.No one came out. They all stared at the open door, waiting. And then finallythe Kigani stepped into the sunlight.Elliot counted twelve tall muscular men armed with bows and arrows, andcarrying long pangas in their hands. Their legs and chests were streaked withwhite, and their faces were solid white, which gave their heads a menacing, skulllike appearance. As the Kigani moved off through the tall manioc, only their whiteheads were visible, looking around tensely.Even after they were gone, Munro remained watching the silent clearing foranother ten minutes. Finally he stood and sighed. When he spoke, his voiceseemed incredibly loud. “Those were Kigani,” Munro said.“What were they doing?” Ross said.“Eating,” Munro said. “They killed the family in that house, and then ate them.Most farmers have left, because the Kigani are on the rampage.”He signaled Kahega to get the men moving again, and they set off, skirtingaround the clearing. Elliot kept looking at the farmhouse, wondering what hewould see if he went inside. Munro’s statement had been so casual; They killedthe family. . . and then ate them.“I suppose,” Ross said, looking over her shoulder, “that we should considerourselves lucky. We’re probably among the last people in the world to see thesethings.”Munro shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”During the Congolese civil war in the 1960s, reports of widespreadcannibalism and other atrocities shocked the Western world. But in factcannibalism had always been openly practiced in central Africa.In 1897, Sidney Hinde wrote that “nearly all the tribes in the Congo Basineither are, or have been, cannibals; and among some of them the practice is onthe increase.” Hinde was impressed by the undisguised nature of Congolesecannibalism: “The captains of steamers have often assured me that wheneverthey try to buy goats from the natives, slaves are demanded in exchange; the124