‘Oh lord of darkness, the ruler of the vast land, ruler of the known and unknown world, the one who is and ever was; I plead to you my lord, please untangle the undesirable mystery hanging over my head,’ she begged him on her knees.
The dream troubled the midwife as it meant that she had failed in her duty, and her wishes to be crowned as a high priestess one day in the world of dark spirits would be in jeopardy. She took a dried-out dead tortoise that was next to the altar on a reed mat and broke off its head before grinding it on a stone until it turned powdery. She sniffed the powder and sneezed forcefully. She cursed the albino girl with venom.
‘Death will visit you one of these days, you defiled ghost of a child,’ she cursed.
‘Your days are numbered; mark my words!’ she yelled with anger.
She was determined to set things straight and went deep into the great forest of Nyavini before the break of dawn. The dense forest has witnessed its fair share of darkest horrors serving in the name of Lord Bubi. It has seen many human sacrifices and dark rituals performed by witches of dark magic. No ordinary person dares to enter the mouth of this forbidden forest.
The sparkling river of stars moved further and further away in the early morning hour as she went deeper in the unventured territory. She crossed many streams and went up and down the hills with purpose in her stride. The hooting owls looked at her curiously; her mind was full with obscure thoughts. She reached the mouth of the great forest at a perfect time, when the creatures of the night were taking rest and the day creatures were preparing to wake up. She crawled underneath the dense fog and went deep into the forest. The serene smell and sounds of the forest greeted her but she paid little attention to them as her mission became all-consuming. Morning birds announced the dawn of the new day but she remained oblivious to them as she was single-minded in her pursuit.
She went further and deeper into territories that few dare to tread. Uneasiness settled on her old and weathered shoulders. Light struggled to penetrate the densely tree-populated area. She was looking for a specific type of herb to be picked while there was still heavy dew. This sacred herb is very rare in the vast land. The herb with divine powers ‘sleeps’ during the day and comes alive in the still of the night, and is at its peak before the dawn of day. The midwife found the herb in the damp soil, dug it up and pulled it out by its roots, where its power lies. She dug out a few before making her way back home, anxious for preparation.
As soon as she got home, she ground up the thick roots of the herb on a stone and cooked the powder in a small three-legged cast-iron pot. She mumbled as she stirred the medicine.
‘Reveal this ghost of a child, oh lord of lords! Show me where she is, oh lord of darkness and I promise to deliver death to her unsuspecting soul.’
The medicine is able to transport the dream-self to all the places the dreamer wishes to visit and gives more freedom to the roaming spirit. Once the medicine is drunk, sleep calls in an infectious hum and the physical actuality begins to collapse; the dream-self is then awakened and the spirit becomes one with the wind reaching all the corners of the known and unknown world.
The midwife stared at the wall inside the hut thinking over the events of the morning and planning her next move. She wondered whether the biological mother knew that the albino child was living happily in the distant lands; it had been a while since the midwife had seen her. The last time she had heard of the mother had been via the village rumour mill. There were stories that she was losing her mind and that she spent a lot of time alone locked in her unmaintained homestead. Her husband had long left her for another woman. The midwife undertook to visit her on the morrow.
The medicine boiled and exuded foam. The steam gave off a unique spicy scent in the hut. The midwife lifted the cast-iron pot off the fire after the liquid had simmered and poured the medicine into an enamel pot for it to cool down before bottling it. She took dried and powdered monkey brain, wild mouse and snake, and mixed them with the care of a seasoned practitioner.
She believed that the monkey brain gives her vigilance and the wild mouse made her avoid being easily detectable, while the snake provided her with a killer instinct. In the African spiritual perspective, the knowing ones use not only the genetic information that is found in the cell nuclei of living organisms but also take into cognisance the consciousness and spirit it carries.
She sprinkled the mix of the powdered medicine on the back of her left hand and licked it. She took a spoon of the medicine and added two drops of water to the powder to make it moist. She smeared the paste behind her ears, on her eyebrows, the back of her neck and behind her knees. She also believed that the medicine enabled her to see the future as clearly as she could see the past; believing is reality.
Evening came and darkness fell. The old wise ones say that night is for passion and desire; it is also for fanaticism and shady dealings. It’s when the most gentle, genuine and suppressed sides come out to play under the non-judgmental eyes of the stars. The midwife evoked the spirits of darkness to protect her. She sprinkled liquid medicine around the hut and its entrance to chase away unwanted spirits.
‘Go away you impure spirits. Go away you diabolic spirits and burn in the scorching fires of forever-night,’ she cursed.
She then took a foul dark potion and rinsed her mouth out with it before going outside, spitting and cursing the very day the spark of light lit the darkness.
‘Reign for all eternity, oh lord of darkness. I bow to you Lord Bubi; the one who stares at fear and makes it run for the hills.’ She bellowed the chant with deep passion.
She looked around for any prying eyes before going back inside the hut. She undressed and smeared her whole body with porcupine fat to fight off unwanted dreams. She sang ritual songs usually chanted in special ceremonies by those of dark magic. She then took a sip from the magic herb of dreams and slept soundly for the first time in a while. There were no nightmares haunting her living soul. The herb crystallised the vision of her all-knowing eye and she travelled far and wide to the distant lands in search of the albino child. She went looking in different homesteads in the different villages across the hills and the plains. The midnight hour passed as she searched the unsuspecting sleeping villages. The darkest hour of the morning heightened the mood and finally her spirit was called to look for the homestead of a traditional healer in the village of Dingilizwe and she was then drawn to the homestead where the unsuspecting albino child slept. She circled her as she slept and showered her with vile intentions. The albino child tossed and turned, trying to break away from the spell. The spirit of the midwife sat on her chest and she was unable to move. The albino girl mumbled in her sleep in an attempt to break the bond of the nightmare. She kicked and screamed and eventually woke everyone up in the hut. A candle was lit and the spirit of the midwife escaped into the darkest hour of the morning.
The roaming spirit of the midwife descended back to her body and she woke up. The first part of her mission was achieved. She lit a bundle of spicy smelling dry leaves and knelt; she began to pray and thanked Lord Bubi for guiding her on her night-time journey.
‘Thank you, oh lord of lords. Thank you for revelations, my lord. I promise to deliver death to her undeserving soul.’ She made a pact.
She stood up and pondered her next step. She dressed warmly and was out of the door before the break of dawn on her way to see the biological mother and tell her the new and disturbing revelations.
Nine
THE BIOLOGICAL MOTHER walked on the road and the road turned into a peculiar gigantic repulsive creature with a drooping mouth and fiery eyes. The monster seemed of another world and belonged in the deepest depths of the underworld. The creature had many arms, like an octopus, and devoured everything in its path as it moved. It roared mightily and fantastically, swallowing every sound in the known world. A flying crocodile with menacing eyes surveyed the night sky with vigilance. She hid behind the trunk of a tree and the tree turned into a snake with thirteen he
ads. The snake hissed and spat at her with balls of fire and she ran as fast as she could into the sleeping village nearby. She found a homestead with three huts overlooking a mountain on the outskirts of the village and burst into the main hut seeking help. She was breathing heavily with cold fear written across her face and to her amazement and disgust, she saw the high priest, Mpundulu, fondling sleeping young boys in the hut. She wanted to wake up from the nightmare but her body was paralysed. She tossed and turned wanting to escape the underworld but the nightmare arrested the dream-self, refusing to let her go.
‘Wake up, wake up!’ The midwife shook her out of the nightmare.
She screamed a piercing shriek. She was drenched in sweat and her body was shaking.
‘Listen to me you wretched commoner, that despicable baby of yours didn’t die that day.’ The midwife snapped at her to bring her back to the apparent actuality.
Nokwakha looked at her lost and dumbfounded, wondering how the midwife came to be in her hut. The midwife scooped water from a bucket underneath the table and splashed her face.
‘Ahhh! What the hell are you doing?’ Nokwakha screamed at the midwife.
‘Shut up you sorry excuse of a human being!’ The midwife cut the mood with a wicked harsh tone.
Nokwakha was quiet in an instant and stared at the menacing figure in front of her. The evil eyes of the midwife sent an icy chill up her spine.
‘The albino child did not die that day,’ the midwife broke the news.
Nokwakha collapsed like a boneless creature and fainted the instant she heard the statement.
‘What the hell! You son of a double-sexed goat!’ the midwife screeched.
Nokwakha lay on the ground, unresponsive to the name-calling. The midwife shook her violently but she remained indifferent to her efforts.
‘Wake up!’ She shook her once again.
Nokwakha was lost in a world beyond and seemed out of breath. The midwife splashed her with water once again and she gasped for air. She began spewing out unstructured sentences and was making no sense. She spoke in tongues as if possessed by alien spirits. She was deranged and overwhelmed by madness.
‘Nokwakha!’ The midwife yelled at her by name in frustration.
She didn’t respond and continued speaking the jumbled language of a mad person, ignoring the midwife. The midwife slapped her but she continued churning out incoherent words as if nothing had happened. Nokwakha looked right through the midwife with no acknowledgement of her presence. The midwife became restless and irritated by the whole episode and was helpless in rescuing the situation to normality.
‘I want my child.’ Suddenly Nokwakha spoke some sense.
Relief ran through the veins of the midwife.
‘I want my child,’ Nokwakha repeated her request.
‘We have to make a plan to get to her and finish the job undone,’ said the midwife with coldness in her voice.
‘I want my child,’ Nokwakha echoed the words once again.
The midwife realised that sanity hadn’t actually prevailed as Nokwakha kept repeating the same sentence like a chorus, over and over. The midwife changed the abrasive tone towards Nokwakha and calmed the situation. She was determined to get Nokwakha on her side and was willing to use trickery to get what she wanted. She tenderly cared for her and begged for sanity to reign.
‘I want my child,’ Nokwakha mumbled once more.
‘Ssshhh, it’s going to be okay.’ The midwife offered her assurance. ‘Lie down and rest for a while,’ the midwife persuaded Nokwakha.
Nokwakha didn’t respond and kept repeating the chorus of the emotion deep within.
‘Lie down; it’s going to be okay,’ the midwife insisted.
‘Ssshhh, trust me; lean on me, we’ll find your daughter, I promise.’ She stroked the emotional tender sides of Nokwakha.
Nokwakha finally heeded the appeal and slept. The ancients say that when days are dark, friends are few; Nokwakha could attest to the trueness of this ancient proverb. The midwife managed to deceive her into believing that she was that friend who would relieve her paining heart. She was blind in her desperation and was tricked by the midwife. It was all about self-preservation from the midwife’s perspective and her blackened heart cared less in actuality.
Nokwakha was seduced to a world of pure dreams and slept like a little child. She was exhausted from the recurring nightmares that drained her life force and kept her awake in the darkest hours. The midwife got up and contemplated different conspiracies; her mind was flooded with wicked thoughts. There was still the unfinished pursuit of delivering death to the albino girl. It was important to her that Nokwakha participate in her quest and also be initiated into the world of dark spirits.
Dusk fell upon the vast land and the midwife woke Nokwakha up. She woozily opened her eyes and they met the unflinching stare of the midwife.
‘We have to go,’ the midwife said gently.
‘I can’t leave you here alone; dress warmly,’ said the midwife with false concern.
Nokwakha put trust in her and soon thereafter they were on their way under the non-judgemental stars to the homestead of the midwife.
Ten
NOKWAKHA IS A HAUNTED woman. Guilt has followed her like a dreadful shadow since that awful day at the Mfolozi River. She tried to shake off the despicable act by suppressing it in her memory bank but without success. The wise ones usually say that no evil deed remains unpunished and Nokwakha could testify to that. She stayed awake at night to run away from the nightmares that visited her in the dark hours. There were those who were suspicious of her story that the baby was stillborn. The lies troubled her living soul. She couldn’t sleep at night without hearing the desperate cry of her child seeking a mother’s love. She tried to have another baby with her husband in an attempt to replace her but could not fall pregnant again. She frequented village herbalists to induce her to flower and bear another child but all was in vain. She begged her husband who was losing patience and wanting to leave her as he was obsessed with having an heir to his legacy. The husband eventually left her and married another woman in the village. She was taunted and jeered at by the other women because of her infertility. The gossip weighed on her over time and she became a recluse.
They arrive at the homestead of the midwife in the still of the night. The midwife lights a candle and surveys the room. She takes a reed mat from the north end of the room and offers Nokwakha something to sit on. There is a heavy silence in the hut.
‘You need cleansing to clear all the unwanted energy in your midst,’ says the midwife.
Nokwakha doesn’t respond; the midwife prepares a fire in the middle of the hut and cooks the medicine. She whispers under her breath as she stirs the liquid remedy.
‘This is for you to steam your whole body,’ she says to Nokwakha.
The midwife lights incense and takes a blanket hanging on a string on the left side of the circling interior wall and gives it to Nokwakha.
‘The water is about to boil now; take off your clothes,’ she instructs.
Nokwakha takes off her clothes and covers her body with the blanket. The midwife pours the boiling medicine in the washbasin.
‘Cover the steam under your blanket quickly,’ she tells Nokwakha.
Nokwakha kneels, bends over the washbasin and covers the steam with the blanket.
‘The vapour is burning,’ says Nokwakha in displeasure.
‘Stay put; don’t let the steam escape,’ bellows the midwife.
‘But I’m burning,’ she protests.
‘Keep quiet and stop complaining, the medicine will lose its power.’
‘But …’
‘Ssshhh,’ the midwife interjects.
The midwife murmurs a song and moves around the hut in a rhythm. She takes two sticks and a drum hanging on the wall and beats it with an almost concealed sound. She circles Nokwakha a few times. She prays silently to the archangels of the underworld in the hidden recess of all things dark. She sings once again a
song usually sung at special ceremonies by those of dark magic and suddenly cuts the song abruptly.
‘You can come out now,’ says the midwife.
Nokwakha lifts the blanket and is dripping with sweat.
‘Go outside and wash your body with the medicine and let the wind caress you,’ the midwife tells her.
Nokwakha pours water into the medicine to cool it down and goes outside under the jewel sky. She washes her whole body and feels lighter. There is a sudden spring in her step. She is blind to the real intentions of the midwife. She doesn’t recognise that she is already in the process of being initiated into the world of the dark spirits.
‘Don’t overstay outside, the evening wind has a cold bite,’ shouts the midwife from the inside of the hut.
Nokwakha steps inside in an instant.
‘How are you feeling?’ asks the midwife.
‘Refreshed; I can feel my pores breathing,’ says Nokwakha.
‘Good; I had to clear the veil of bad luck surrounding your aura.’
The midwife gives her a powdered medicine to sniff; it makes her sneeze.
‘Heeeeetuuu! Heeeeetuuu! What is this thing you’ve made me sniff?’ she asks.
‘Heeeeetuuu!’ she sneezes yet again.
The midwife doesn’t dignify the question with any acknowledgement.
‘Here, butter your body with this.’ The midwife gives her the porcupine fat.
Nokwakha smears the fat on her body. The midwife lights dry leaves that induce drowsiness and Nokwakha is seduced by sleep to its temple.
‘Lie down, I’m coming back,’ says the midwife.
Nokwakha is soon asleep and the midwife is out the door into the still of the night.
The midwife was once a noble servant of the tribes and revered in all the land. She has travelled far and wide delivering the babies of commoners and royals alike and is held in high regard by all. Even when there was a battle among the tribes, she went about her work without being molested by any of the warring groups.
Nwelezelanga: The Star Child Page 5
