In the pitch-black darkness, sitting on the forest floor with our bodies so close that we touch, we sing, each voice producing a different yodeled melody to create a densely overlapping harmony. As the hours pass, individual melodies melt into one another, and we begin to lose ourselves in the human and acoustic tapestry we have created. The intensity of the singing builds, its coordination increasingly perfected until the music is so beautiful that the self melts away. Such splendor attracts forest spirits into the camp to join us, the BaYaka believe. As tiny dots of luminescence, they float around us, coming close and then retreating toward the forest, their subtle voices whistling sweet tunes that occasionally slip through the polyphony. Overwhelmed by the beauty we have created together, some call out “Njoor!” (“My word!”), “Bisengo” (“What joy!”) or “To bona!” (“Just like that!”).