I imagine that you are reading this from somewhere not in Africa.
As you read, you will probably sneer and then dismissively chuck me off as backward, gullible and ostensibly religious-bordering on the insane.
But I know what I am talking about.
Welcome to a warm and dark continent. The traditions and customs here are still archaic. The first gods are still worshipped here. Worshipped, not merely served. There is a difference.
I do not believe in coincidences.
Once, yeah… Okay.
Twice, I start to reach for my sidearm.
Thrice, I come out of my den snarling behind a hail of bullets. Machete in the other hand.
The following took place about ten years ago. (Between the eighth to the tenth years… to further misdirect you… I am smiling broadly right now.)
I was in a long term relationship with a lovely young woman. By this time I already knew that I could not marry her. She was a snooping, manipulative, arrogant bitch! (Hmmm… Now where did that emanate from? Forgive me, I am clearly still upset with her). One midnight, she surprised me while I had my pants down. Erect phallus in hand. Indulging in self-help and self-love. She lost it! She broke down in self-righteous tears, and when that did not work she told me that it would never be well with me until I learned to treat her right. In retrospect I regret not replying her ominous words. You see, I am a creature of habit. I am a maverick, but I have method to my eccentricity. So I know and notice when my jewellery and items of my clothing suddenly disappear. I know about her father, and I know that her mum still worships the first gods. Despite being a deaconess in a local community church. So I knew that her threat was not idle.
By now things had deteriorated quite badly. I was in a bind in every respect. While I did not owe money at the time, I used to be a millionaire. Yes I was still involved with ‘Evil-ynn’, that conniving, stinking maggot. And sibling of Satan! (Hmmm… Now where did that emanate from? Forgive me, I am clearly still upset with her). It was a hot and dry Friday afternoon. I was in between (seemingly futile) business meetings. I drove to a quiet park. They were typically leased to vendors who maintained them via recreational facilities and restaurants and / or a beer parlour. All sorts of mobile vendors would stop by tables offering wares ranging from roasted peanuts to lingerie to cheap electrical accessories. This particular vendor was a Yoruba traditional medicine man. He was selling bottled plant roots and potions purportedly able to cure piles, diabetes and all sorts of ailments. I was bored and I am likable, so he told me that I was on the verge of greatness but that I needed to pray more fervently. He said that my prosperity had been tied up in a tree somewhere. He advised that I prayed that night with a white handkerchief last thing before I slept. That he would stay up and pray in agreement with me at my preferred time. He was a Muslim. I am a Christian.
I was out of town officially. I was mentally chastising myself on why I had bothered to arrive by air. The assignment was clearly not going to be as lucrative as I had hoped. Then that sneaky, succubus that hated Jesus called. She typically called at my lowest times, just in time to make matters worse. Witch! (Hmmm… Now where did that emanate from? Forgive me, I am clearly still upset with her). Luckily a former colleague called me right after her call. He knew I was in his town and wanted to swing by. He arrived with a young man he introduced as ‘his prophet’. They were on their way to dedicate a parcel of land or something. Just before he left, he told me that I had made a mistake dating ‘Evil-ynn’. He told me that I needed deliverance. He said that ‘they’ had ‘tied my progress’ to a particular shrub somewhere in Ankpa. A town in Kogi state, Nigeria.
I had no choice but to speak with my pastor. He had us both pray at a set time with a set of specific prayer requests.
It has been a while since that prayer session. Believe it or not, I am wealthy and rich. More so than ever, and this is me modestly understating things. Everything is going well. Perfectly actually.
Evilynn’s mother ran mad. She had a mental breakdown in a NEXT – CASH AND CARRY supermarket. She was said to have rambled on and on about her being a witch. She reportedly asked for my forgiveness.
Evilynn’s sister ran mad. She had a mental breakdown in a popular Abuja market. Same story, she mentioned my name too.
Evilynn. Chikadibia – went slightly bipolar. She broke into my convenience while I was there seated waiting on gravity to call on nature. She sank to her knees right there in the ‘shitter’ and apologized. She told me that her mum did it to protect her daughter from harm. I absolved her of wrongdoing in my books. Hey, I loved her once.
A popular shaman in Ankpa apparently lost his damn mind and stepped in front of a truck suddenly. Before he died, I hear he confessed to a lot of vile things. Yes. Yes, my name came up… Again!
At this juncture, I wisely relocated. Left town for good. Good thing I did.
Inside of a week all the aforementioned, plus one or two unmentioned were dead.
They all died in their sleep. They were insane until they died.