THE OPEN MIND COLLECTION

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Africa, it is some superstitious lies that create fear in us. When a lie is told for a hundred years it ends up becoming true and it becomes a part of our culture. But culture is the way we think as a collective group and can only be changed by the way we think. Fear can only be ridden of by the way we think. The story below symbolises the lies around us that make us fear and cripple our minds and ability to complete crucial tasks in society...  

     "Go and fetch some water from the well, Gamu" her mother tasked her.

"But it's night time" Gamu protested "and it's so dark outside."

"Gamu what do you find out there in the night that you won't find in the afternoon?"

"The dark" Gamu answered without hesitating.

"Well your older sister is no longer here. So it's your turn to do the task" her mother handed her the large, black clay pot which camouflaged into the gloom of night and became invisible.

Gamu remembered her grandmother's horrific stories as she went into the night. It wasn't that dark as the moon seemed to be embracing a clay pot of its own. But the stories seemed to become real.

The meows and purrs of the cats were carried by the wind into her ears. She looked in the distant bare land close to the grain bin and thought, "Those are the shadows of the witches disguised as cats! And they're holding their gathering to decide whom to take next from our village!" the shadows made a perfect circle of twelve.

Gamu's knees knocked and her teeth chattered. She almost dropped the pot but she had to complete the task. So she staggered along and the well was a dozen metres away from the monster with small hands, legs and head which slept whilst sitting and guided the well. Its big belly looked as if it was going to burst because it was filled with the bones it could not digest of the people it ate throughout its years of existence.

The fact that it slept peacefully never snoring in the fear that it would awaken everything including itself gave Gamu the courage to reach the well. She dropped the tin can down into the well with a rope tied into several knots to secure a strong grip. She surveyed the land and imagined she was in an empty, breathable space and that she was drawing water from a black-hole that almost pulled her into it when the can was full. But when she looked ahead she saw 'that grey phantom which walked the road to infinity and never stopped'. It touched the clouds under the moon and ran towards her. She almost dropped the can back into the well but managed to grasp a single knot with both hands as her effort produced a grunt.

As the water spewed she quickly pulled the can out and poured the star filled liquid into the clay pot. It was only half full but the phantom was progressing faster and she had to run back home. The interesting thing about this scary night-thing was that it never made a sound. Perhaps it also feared awakening the sleeping giant and an epic battle wound begin.

She ran as fast as she could. She could have carried the pot on her head and walked as if rehearsing for that year's village beauty pageant like what her now married sister did even at night but she ran to express to the night creatures that she was indeed afraid of the dark and that there was no shame in it.... She tripped and fell and the pot slipped out from the embrace of her arms. If it were a baby it could have cracked its skull.

"The phantom's pulled my foot!" Her fear could not let the words out but they were vividly spoken in her mind. She rose quickly as if she was not hurt and did not put in mind that she had broken her mother's clay pot. The door opened by itself and the light of fire welcomed her into the sanctuary. She fell on the floor as her mother closed the door behind her. She saw the fear in her eyes and the courage to run for her life and not easily give it up to the night creatures Gamu told her about when she asked her, "What happened?" She was not angry. She was concerned.

Clarity comes with the dawn. When she left home for school she saw the twelve sandbags which had disguised themselves as the shadows of the witches disguised as cats! The sleeping giant was the hut, the grain bin in which they had stored their maize after the harvest. The grey phantom was the mukwa tree just after the well. She had noticed the broken clay pot close to the root extruding from the ground close to their hut. "Humph, so this is the hand of the phantom..." and since then she carries a clay pot on her head and walks side to side as if rehearsing for a beauty pageant even at night because...she's no longer afraid of the dark.