WHAT A TWIST: The witch hunt.

Even as I write this, I anticipate from you a lot of unbelief and you are not to blame. It is a reaction even I would have had, had I not been the very subject of narration.

Besides, fiction and truth do tend to become one, especially when the very laws of nature seem to have taken a vocation to other planets off our galaxy.

I woke up that morning to a lot of excitement around the house. If the pitched choral voices from my aunt,mum and dad were not enough signal, then the absence of my siblings on the matresses was a give away.

Something was fishy!! I prided myself for being an early riser, the one who always escaped doing the bed and left the task to the worms.

“Morning every one”, I greeted but did not receive a chorus reply I was expecting. I repeated my greetings with a higher tone to announce my presence, still bearing in mind to keep the tune even and audible enough to exempt me a hidding awarded those termed disrespectful of elders by interrupting them as they talk. Growing up as an african was not always¬†my cup of tea!

Before I could ask what the commotion was about, I quickly noticed that everyone was focused on what seemed to me like remnants of last night’s meal and I was already devising a story to tell if they decided to pin it on me.I knew for sure I finished my ration and washed my plate.

What I could not figure out though was how it managed to be squarshed into such a nauseating mess. To investigate more I moved towards their obvious fascination and froze instantly as I was hulted by my mother.

Stop! You will be bewitched if you step on the witches faeces!

I know, its normal to hear tales growing up since folk tales is our pass time. And siblings never pass off the chance of colonising others by crippling them with fear.

For instance when they wanted a lion’s share of treats we were given, they would promise protection from bugbears and witches who swarmed the confides of our compound in the evenings when trips to the loo would surely make it to the day’s itinerary. The skys so pitch black, that the very shadows people stumble on.

But to have my mother,the sane one, talk of witchcraft! I was scared and doomed if I did not hid the warning. I moved back slowly afraid. Some witch had faeced in our living room and left monumental heaps that made a trail.

How had they intruded our house when we were not aliens to the local church every sunday Lord! What did they want? Real fear, I experienced and some excitement ofcause- my friends would be awed for days, a real life witch cought in my own house!

I was sure it was my neighbour, the one who never looked people in the eyes and blinked a lot because the devil lurked in her and knew that if Godly people like myself( innocent children ) looked her straight in the eye she would be exposed. Me,10 years old.

We searched for the holy salty sea water stored somewhere in a reused juice bottle and began chanting and custing evil spirits away from our paths as my aunt splashed the water across the room and the entire house.

Still following the trail, the brave of our family, the hero of my adolescence and youth bend to check under the soffas to see if our witch had not hid there.

My father,lay flat on his stomach to probe even closer and got the shock of his life. Who wouldn’t faced with such a predicament? Life does not prepare you for moments like those.

There, staring back at him was our puppy! It must have slipped into the house the previous evening, unnoticed because it was well known: all pets were to remain outside especially dogs!

Darn it! The puppy had ruined my adventure and the hidding it would get for the misdemeanour was but only a fair solace.

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About ferwam

I am a passionate aspiring writer who is taking baby steps to realise her dream. Though like a baby, its given I will stumble and fall, I wish to stand up and continue with my journey and encourage you all to take part in this dream.
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