It is midday and I have just arrived at Tunbung Art Village. I am here to explore the history of Tunbung, to meet its visitors and to enjoy being in a creative space.

Etu along with a few tired looking men sit close to a pile of charred branches on a burnt patch of land. Pointing to the embers he explains that they had a camp fire party last night, specially arranged for a visiting group of students. He then crashes onto a swinging hammock, his eyelids and closed. The men, who are musicians, reflect on the funs of the previous night while packing their instruments, preparing to leave. But one of the men remains seated. By the side of his right arm lies a very old looking rifle. The man’s name is Faburama Jatta.  He offers me a seat; I join him and ask about the rifle.
   
"This is a big gun called ‘Lon core‘, made by the blacksmith and the wood carver. Bits of hard iron are used instead of bullets. They are fired with the trash from pounded cuss-cuss mixed with gunpowder. The big gun is more than  hundred years old and was passed down through the Jameh Kunda family of Tugereng. It only fires one shot at a time and makes a very loud noise. It was used for hunting, for war and for ceremonies. Recently, an alkali was inaugurated and Lon cores were fired into barrels to give louder noise for excitement. The ‘ears’ of people from miles away knew very well of the celebration".

Faburama previously worked as a curator at Tanje Museum and despite not receiving a formal qualification, is a historian in his own right. He has a close relationship with the elders, who provide him with oral knowledge and tangible exhibits. As a custodian of local relics, he had brought the gun to display among a collection of items that were used locally within the last hundred years. Some of the items were used by the people who were the original occupants of this heritage site.

The tragedy they experienced back then is a taboo subject and time has not eased the pain for the families who are descendants. They refuse to speak of Tunbung let alone visit its Art Village.

Prior to Etu’s arrival, Tunbung had been left unoccupied for at least four generations. Despite the taboo and any possible sensitivity, I decide to tap Faburama’s knowledge of those people. Perhaps within his role as a historian, he may expose more details on the Tale of Tunbung. So far, I know that the villagers ate a whale, most of them died, and that they left in a hurry because the land had been cursed.

Faburama willingly reveals that according to the elders, a gin (spirit) became a very close friend of a man from the Foni region. The gin asked the human to come and live with him by the coastline. A highly respected marabou advised the man that he and the gin would benefit from being around each other and he was assured that it was safe to go.

It was a long and rough journey to the coastline and the man encountered several obstacles including the Kumbosila war at Mafenda. Unharmed, but feeling extremely exhausted, he barely managed to reach as far as Tunbung. The gin urged him to come just a little closer to the coastline, but his legs could not carry him further so he settled with a wife at Tunbung and made a family among other families.

But unknown to the new settlers, this was not a place for humans. Evil gins secretly lived there and soon after, terrible misfortunes began to happen resulting in physical/mental illness and even death. Screaming in anguish, the man along with a few remaining survivors fled from Tunbung to the coastline, vowing to stay with the good gin forever. I tell Faburama what I have heard about the whale, and that if he thinks that its flesh could have poisoned and indeed killed the settlers. He says "the whale they ate was young and too oily, but it would have only given them diarrhea. What they experienced was a spiritual problem, but now the evil gins have gone".

Faburama further says that during his childhood years, he has had seen the skeleton of the actual whale resting on the sea shore at ‘Nio ba’ (Big fish) and that he has access to the remaining bones. I begin to digest the story in silence, while absorbing the heritage around us. Cheeky brown flies consistently crawl on the back of my hands, reappearing instantly as I shake them off. They are irritating, though apparently they help immensely with the pollination of this ecology. The scorching sun has risen to its hottest point. Fortunately leaves from a large mango tree shelter us from the oppressive heat.

A broken, stringless kora dangles from the branch of a nearby fruit tree. I wonder who might have played it, what song he had sung and how old it might be.  Since my last visit a week ago, the environment looks different. Bushes have been pruned to reveal an array of multi-colored flowers. Crowns of trees have been lifted, areas of land have been tended and the site has had an overall make over. Etu is asleep on the hammock wearing a half smile. In view behind are mud huts. A tiny red bird flies onto the thatched roof of a rain house.

If evil spirits once occupied the site, they have surely vanished. This green environment consoles Etu’s soul and grants him greater expression in translating his culture. But its influence transcends to anyone who chooses to visit. A group of Art and Music students from Vaxjo University in Sweden are currently lodging here, attending creative workshops. They have returned from the beach and a few members are ready to talk about their experiences here.

Sabastian Hultkrantz says "I’m inspired by the space and how people from different backgrounds and experiences are using it. I’m learning new ways to look at the environment and bring gifts for my art…"

Aside from being a student, Filippa Nassil is a guitarist in a rock band. She confesses "I’m always worried about how good I play. Last night local musicians played around a camp fire. They totally absorbed the energy from the environment and it showed in how relaxed they played; especially the kora man with his eyes closed. I have been placing too much focus on how good my playing is, but now I'm connecting with how I feel when I’m playing. Something in the sound of the crickets and just being here is helping me to relax. I will take this feeling back to Sweden".

Etu, who is now awake, calls the students to attention. A workshop is about to begin but first a platter of fruit is offered. "This is sweet sop and that bigger one is called sour sop. I sit and watch Etu delivering his workshop. The topic includes ‘understanding the rules of color and how to complement colors using natural light as a source of inspiration’. Colors used are pigments taken from red sand, orange trees and other natural sources. The glue has been extracted from local trees. His approach is similar to the late Canadian artist Emily Carr who also worked from a heritage site. It is said that her art was inspired by nature and by the spirits of Native Indians.

According to Etu the spirits of Tunbung enjoy his creativity. He senses that they appreciate him shaping their environment and how he adopts a sacred approach towards acknowledging their memory. Here we have a Gambian inspired by ancestral spirits in a complementary relationship, mediated through the environment.

In Mandinka language, ‘Tunbung’ translates as ‘land that has been abandoned’. I shall enquire what word or term is used to describe land that has been returned to, or land that is sacred. The Tale of Tunbung is probably a rich mixture of truth, belief and hearsay, the perfect ingredients for a story.