Spell-Craft

Sunset behind the palm trees horizon. The countryside looks beautiful. This was Rabai, Bengo. The Land of coconut wine. Land of the first Church in Kenya built by Dr. Krapf. Land of cool evening breeze and vicious silence. This was my second time in Bengo. I came with my dad years ago to attend a wedding ceremony.

This time, I’m here to give morale support to my friend Steven Ngala. Unlike other Mijikenda tribes, Rabais have mostly abandoned their traditional names to take English names. Their Christianity percentage is high, since the early Christian missions set up a strong base here. My friend Steven was here for love. His girlfriend whom big promises were made between them could not be traced since yesterday afternoon. In this day and age of technology, we know how our loved ones are doing even if they are ten thousand miles away.

I had known Grace, Steven’s girlfriend for a year and a half. They live together in rented rooms on Likoni. They are so good together. The love between them was visible to neighbors and friends. She was a short, not so fat black beautiful Rabai girl. Same tribe as my friend’s. She left town on Friday, promising to be back by Monday Morning for work. Steven said she arrived safely and they even Whatsapped on Saturday. He called her elder sister yesterday evening and that was when he received upsetting news. Her sister and other family members believe it was a work of jealous neighbors who resorted to witchcraft to damage her.

Dark forces, witchcraft and spirits forms part of a phenomena that is as old as our great grandparents yet we don’t get to see their manifestations in broad daylight. And it’s not just here in Africa, we see stories of Dracula and werewolves in European shows. Funny, scary creatures from Asian traditions. Flying saucers and Halloween stories are a testimony that voodoo is international.

The first step Steven and Grace’s relatives took were to visit the local ‘artist’ on these matters. A sorcerer. Since I had only seen conjuring and cheap magic tricks all my life, I was interested in seeing what these celebrated witches could do. He placed a pot of water at the center of the circular formation of our sitting arrangement and started saying words of enchantment. Invoking spirits to help in knowing the where about of Grace, while he was twirling the waters anticlockwise using his hand. After five minutes, he asked us to look. Grace’s mum said she saw the face of Mwadena. The Voodooist feared by many in that village, to a point of taking another route when they see him coming their way. I told the sorcerer I don’t see any face, just water. And he looked at me with stern eyes. I decided to keep quiet, didn’t want to show disrespect although I thought he was a hack.

Sleep seemed to have eluded me that night. One reason could be spending night in a house that had no electricity.  Also I could hear sounds of animals and insects even from far because the house had no ceiling. Some things kept biting my skin occasionally but I ignored them. My mind kept wondering in an ocean of thoughts. Many friends and accomplices in town have been forcing me to believe in the presence of witchcraft even though they cannot give me concrete evidence of its existence. I thought there were explainable factors when somebody doesn’t get a job for a long time, hit by a car accidentally, or falls ill. But many would find someone to blame for their misfortune. Once, a Pokomo friend of mine said there are people in their rural home who can command crocodiles to attack their enemies even in their homes. I have a diversity of friends, almost from every corner of our country. Another friend told me in Western, they command lightning and thunderstorm to strike those whom they don’t like. Among the Mijikendas, There is something called Kago. If you eat it, you won’t die until you consent. You could be ill in bed for years. Caterpillars and worms coming out of your body, but still alive. Among the Chonyis, they could give you out to their spirits so that it can rain in the village. Also, a Kamba friend told me of how their artist sent bees to a group holding an unaccepted political meeting in their turf. There are artists who are business minded. We see plenty of posters in our town adverting how these “Doctors” can give you love, cure your business or make you win elections In Politics. They are just looking to earn a living. But I hate those who create misunderstanding between people by lying to them that it’s your neighbor, or even your sister that has bewitched you.

Mwadena was followed the next day. Some family members had gathered up, took pangas and other weapons, ready to lynch him. But we found him prepared. His sons and friends were also holding Pangas when we arrived. A heated argument started and they denied doing anything to our Grace. After half an hour, the chief arrived with two Administration policemen carrying their rifles. And the Crowd was dispersed.

A wise old man came to Grace’s family and told them, he who calls another a witch is a witch himself. He cautioned us on our dealings with the Sorcerer who pointed Mwadena to us. The little things that disturbed me last night seemed to be angrier tonight. I found out that they were bed bugs. But these were not ordinary bed bugs. They pinch so hard that you feel the pain even after half an hour. All night I was rubbing them off wherever I felt they were biting. i couldn’t get some sleep until the break of dawn.

Steven had lost hope since it was the third day and Grace had not been found, not even her corpse. I took him out for a walk and told him we should make concealed rounds at the wizard’s house. Something weird about the sorcerer is that he does not go out to till his land during the day. They cook well even when there is drought of customers. And his thatched house was taller than others. We didn’t find out anything during the day that connects to Grace. And during the night, the Bed bugs army stroke again. I wondered why the others didn’t seem to be troubled much by them. So I woke Steven up and told him we should play James Bond tonight because I won’t enjoy the bed. We told his mum and sister that we were going out and we went to set station near the sorcerer’s house.

Exactly after midnight, He came out followed by his two sons, Naked. They ran in circles around the house examining the area then they let out eight other men and five girls. We followed them as they led them to his Shamba and we saw them tilling the land. There were only two of us so we returned back home to inform the others. Before dawn, we had informed other neighbors and by morning the whole village was surrounding the sorcerer’s house. There was a bit of pushing and violence but they gave in and people entered the house. The storage area for maize that made his house seem taller was where he kept those slave land tillers. They were brought down and family members recognized their loved ones. They looked like zombies. We also found Grace and Steven hugged her for long. He was thankful he was reunited with his love.

The sorcerer was arrested by the chief. I asked about this weird spectacle and I was told many evil people do that. You bury your dead but they are not dead. It’s the witch that made you think that. If you dug up the grave after a day you will find a banana stem.  Your relatives get lost and they are just around. They take these poor people under their spell to help them till their land and harvest. Grace told us that they are only fed on cold porridge mixed with some medicine to make them strong but stupid. They see everything but can do nothing. She wasn’t taken to till land as the sorcerer liked her and kind of like took her as his wife.

These revelations scared me. I wondered how cruel one can be to do things like this. Steven and Grace said they will sleep one more day there so that they can celebrate with family but I told them I had to leave. I was worried about the bed bugs. Since I suspected there was the sorcerers hand in them; I feared the magnitude of their attack tonight when their master had been arrested.