Superstitious

4. Literacy has no epoch.

Mbali.

I adjust my sitting into a comfortable one, flattening my legs. I brush the dust off the cover of the book, it's brown in colour so there's no much difference when the dust brushes off, and, it looks like a grimoire, old and a bit eerie.

Again, witchcraft.

It's about 10cm in length. It's cover is brown, made from leather and there's nothing written on it, it's just blank. Its pages are not that many, probably thirty or so. I open it, first and second pages are blank but the third isn't. It's written something in a Nguni language, the words are in italic but they are clear. They read:

Momentous beliefs

The word momentous triggers my curiosity and I can't help but page to the next page which has-- I guess, those beliefs listed. I keep on paging--- but not reading-- until the last page.

Reading makes me sleepy but I will read this, just not now. I have to get home before those idiots organize a search party.

I pull out my phone from my back pocket and check the time-- It's past five. I jam the phone back inside my pocket and get to my feet, taking the book with me, but before walking out, I look around the house once more. "Why didn't they bring you down?", I ask myself before walking to the door and closing it behind me.

On my way back home, I start pondering. There must've been several huts here before we arrived or where else would the villagers been living? At the mountains?

Another thing...

I thought ancestors were illiterate and it would've not been possible for one to compose a book, unless history is lying to us. The book looks old, meaning it was there for the longest time and whoever wrote it must've been some sort of genius at that time or something.

When I enter the house, by the kitchen, I pause and hear voices and sounds of gunshots coming from the tv. They are watching an action moving, meaning they won't even notice or hear me coming in with the book, I just need to keep it out of sight. I let out a breath and start walking, out of the kitchen, through the hallway and into my room. I get in, lock the door behind me and slump on my bed. I'm so tired, the walk here was so steep, my feet hurt.

After catching breaths, I avert my eyes to the book and grab it from beside me then sit upright, opening it to the third page.

Just after the words, momentous beliefs, it reads at the bottom:

"Yield discipline and in turn, give birth to harmony.
If not, eternal agitation."

Yeld to discipline and in turn, give birth to harmony? What does that entail? Is this some sort of rule book?
I keep wondering until I proceed to the next page:

Act I :
"Your wealth is in the dust you sweep away at night."

Act II :
"Bad spirits await for your unborn one with ill eyes, garment it well before it's the right time."

Act III
When your looking glass shutters, misfortunes will follow you for three years less than a decade.

Act V
"Idly hands placed upon one's head will bring misfortunes."

I let out a chuckle. This is madness, I've placed my hands on top of my head before and nothing happened, I've seen women posing with their pregnancies before the second trimester and they all give birth just fine.

I page to the further to the sixth page and scan through.

Act XXX :
"Wedding or funeral, the answer is in your dream in contradiction of what you saw."

I've also dreamt of weddings before and no death was announced the next day or ever. Again, this is madness, just some fictional book.

Act XXXI :
"An itching palm is weath to be gained."

This one hits me. It's not the first time I hear something like this. An itching palm? I pause for a second and gnaw on my lip.

It all makes sense now. These are all superstitions; mystically, future events influnced by one's behaivor.

I once told my gramdmother that my palm was itching and she told me someone will give me money. I was nine at that time and actually believed it, but then no one gave me any money. I remember asking for ten rands from my mother five minutes later and she said no. I was so disappointed I ran to my room and started crying.

It makes sense now. For a second I thought it was just some rule book a man or woman wrote for their kids. But maybe it is, who knows?

I skip the remaining pags and turn to the last one. It reads vaguely:

"Be warned!"

Be warned? I wince at those words, and then...

"MBALI!"

Tumelo yells, and I jump at the sound of his voice. I take a deep breath and roll my eyes. "Coming!"

I read the text on the third page again then close the book. I swing my feet to the carpet and slide them inside my sleepers before walking out. I set the book on top of my study table and head out, closing the door behind me.

I walk on the passageway then arrive at the mouth of the living room, stopping to watch them staring down at their phones. I look at the TV and the words are going up.

I step inside and take a sit on the couch opposite to them, reclining against it and folding my arms against my chest. "You called me?", I ask, and no one answers.

They are still staring down at their phones, not paying attention to my question-- hell, Tumelo is even smiling.

This is why I was called? To stare at them?

"Hello?!", I yell and they flick their eyes up at me, meeting my annoyed face.

"Oh... sorry", Tumelo amends, turning off his phone and looking at me. Jason doesn't and I don't even care. "How was your little trip?", he asks, leaning back against the couch.

Why do you care?

He rests his hands on top of his head, clasping his fingers together and one of the Acts crosses my mind, the one about idly placing your arms on your head. I gulp down at the thought of Tumelo having bad lucks just by doing an indifferent thing like that.

I pout. "It was fine. I Just took a walk, sat on boulder by the river and listened to some music", I lie.

I don't know why but this is now bugging me, I want to tell him to remove his hands from his head. The book said acting without discipline will result in agitation, which is normally correct, but in the case of those Acts, discipline implies to not going against them.

Tumelo nods. "Huh", he mutters dubiously, narrowing his small brown eyes at me. "Are you sure?", he asks.

I nod. "Of course I'm sure, what am I? An amnesiac?"

Before Tumelo could say something, probably to scold me about my response, Jason opens his mouth. "You were doing that for more than an hour?", he suddenly asks, also dubious.

I shift my eyes to him. "Duh!", I say impudently.

Those words and everything in that book is starting to get to me and I hope there's no Act that prohibits lying. Actually, God prohibits lying.

"Then why did you sneak in?", Jason asks.

Son of a...