Grand Zombie

Alioune Mamadou Kane came to Paris from his native Senegal in the early '30s. A spear-tall (6 ft. 8 in.), mission-trained blackamoor, he made a living by driving a taxi and hawking West African gewgaws. Then, at the 1937 Paris International Exposition, he performed as a fakir. It became a habit.

He decked himself in flowing blue robes, green-&-gold skullcap, ram's-horn necklace and a resounding title: Batoula, the Great Marabout and Prince of Zombie. As prince of an African voodoo cult, he spoke flamboyantly of 2,000,000 followers. In 1939 he made a trip to New York. Harlem gave him a lavish reception, and many a dusky laundress dreamed of becoming his Princess.

When the war broke out, Mamadou Kane became an officer of French Senegalese troops. After the defeat of 1940, he donned his royal robes again. The Germans were impressed. They gave him an office in the Hotel Scribe, winked when the Prince of Zombie became a prince of black marketeers.

This month Mamadou Kane, accused of collaboration with the enemy, stood before a Paris court of justice. For two hours he wept, beat his breast, gestured royally, proclaimed his innocence like a prophet.

The Court asked: "Is it true that during the occupation you owned a car and employed a chauffeur?" The Prince of Zombie replied: "I had four cars--two Packards, one Buick, one Mercury!"

"And where did you get all the money?" "I had my faithful flock, just like the Pope." The Court was unimpressed. Last week Kane began five years' hard labor.

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