Shadows Unveiled

Witch Hunters

It was 5 a.m. and not yet time to get ready for school. From the back of the house, a deep voice called out. He was a regular visitor who came early in the morning for some mysterious reason. He was supposed to be Papa's kin, but we did not know if he was a witch or not. We were afraid he might cause trouble if we upset him. Sometimes he showed up later when we were having breakfast and we ran out the back door to school. Other times he came quietly and we hid behind the couch until he left, barely making it to school on time. Papa said he wanted to sacrifice one of us - the kids - and warned us not to answer him when he called from outside or we would be his next victim. 

My paternal grandfather was a witch doctor, or a healer as they called him. He had to choose his second-born child to follow his tradition as was taboo. He had other second born children but chose my father, who was the second child of his youngest wife. Unfortunately, my father had been taken by Christianity and the missionaries who forbade the practice. He politely received his father's pouch and was expected to carry on the trade. This bag contained various symbolic or ritualistic items, such as herbs, crystals, talismans, and other objects that are believed to hold magical or spiritual significance in witchcraft practices. 

On his way to Nairobi, he hung the pouch on a tree, where it stayed for years until the tree dried up. At home, theft was an exceedingly rare occurrence, and their strong belief in ghosts, spirits, and karma left them fearful and hesitant to engage in stealing. Following Dad's refusal to continue the tradition, the practice withered away. Our family was then strictly forbidden to practice witchcraft, even though we were surrounded by many practitioners of the magical arts. My maternal grandmother taught me about an ancient ritual of licking a flaming sword to swear an oath of truthfulness. 

If someone lied, they would be burned by the sword. It was akin to placing a hand on a Bible for an oath. She also warned her children to stay away from any kind of magic and to trust that no curse would harm them, but rather backfire on the caster. Grandmother's stories often amazed me. One of them was about an old man who had lost half of his left hand. He had gone hunting one day and shot a rabbit with his bow and arrow. He followed the wounded animal into a cave and found a hidden world of people who could transform into beasts and hunt on the surface. 

He learned that he had violated a taboo by striking a rabbit in the forest. His hand was cut off as a punishment and proof that there were unseen realms beyond our perception. These stories were not uncommon among the people who lived near my country home. In high school, I had a blind teacher who said he had seen things that he should not have. He was talking about a place full of tall trees and thick bushes called Kanyakine in Meru. The villagers said they could hear drums and music coming from the bushes, but they could not see who was making the noise. 

My teacher was a young boy when he got too close and saw a group of naked men and women dancing. When the dancers noticed that he could see them, they told him that he would lose his sight. He gradually became blind over the course of a year. Another such story is on Auntie Katerina's farm, where a huge snake guards the mercury and gold. No one has been able to visit this part of her farm. 

At Ishiara's peak, the rocks thrown by invisible hands drove away the stubborn catholic priest who wanted to go to the banned hill. Mbeere shelters many who flee from the people's sorcery, magic, and animalism. My oldest Uncle Ndie narrated the stories of the great Kabwere, his origin, and his escape from his homeland to avoid persecution for practicing the sacred practice. He is said to have fled to Mombasa. 

My rural residence held an eerie atmosphere. Concerned about potential poisoning, we refrained from sharing meals or engaging with our relatives. Believing in the protective qualities of pork against bewitchment, we applied pork oil on both ourselves and our car before attending gatherings at home. These were the unconventional precautions instilled by mother regarding the mystical entities that she claimed surrounded us. According to her, to grasp their presence, one should heed the messages conveyed by birds and animals, as they possessed a magical significance. 

I might not recall the precise moment when I became aware that we inherently possess the ability to communicate with animals and birds. It dawned on me that a bee sting could convey a meaning distinct from that of smelling your perfume. Some of the insights my grandmother shared about animals might surprise you. For instance, she believed that crows and owls served as messengers from the spiritual realm, delivering warnings, offering caution, or signaling drastic measures. 

According to her teachings, encountering a squirrel foretold a wonderful day, whereas a cat crossing your path indicated impending misfortunes. Our existence is intricately linked with other beings, and while mastering the language of communication with them may be challenging, the effort is undoubtedly worthwhile. It serves as another avenue for understanding intuitions and navigating the realities of our everyday lives.