Posted By Mduduzi Mathuthu on 15 Apr, 2009 at 12:25 am
EVER come face to face with a tokoloshe? Well, I have. If it was that anyway!
I was young, but I remember enough. It was following my grandfather’s death, sometime in 1991.
Some members of the family who thought my grandfather’s 80 years or so were not a good length for life on earth suggested that a “prophet” should be called in to solve the “mystery” of his death.
All members of our extended family gathered at our home deep in rural Filabusi. It was night and we had gathered the cattle early that day and secured them in their kraal and waited for the special visitor who duly arrived.
Our holy man wore a white garment, with a blue cross on the front and back. He carried a walking stick - perhaps the equivalent of the flying broomsticks in Harry Potter movies.
He began by saying “kulento” (”there is a thing”) that claimed my grandfather’s life, and it would strike again unless it was stopped.
Those were chilling words, carefully armed with enough urgency and threat to even make those who were not taken in by this inquisition stand up and listen.
After some brief rituals — he said it was a prayer — and with a start, he was out of the hut where everyone had gathered. He ran to the middle point of our home as we followed in frightened anticipation.
Then as sudden as he left the hut, he shouted “nankuya!” (”there it is”) and he was away, running straight for a three-roomed house, and into the bedroom of one of our domestic workers. You should have seen the blank stares on the faces of those gathered!
Here he was, our prophet, telling us all about a creature that none apart from him could see. And worse, this mysterious “thing” seemed to be running pretty fast and flying through closed doors and into people’s bedrooms!
Never have I put my faith in one man as I did that day. He had to chase it down, find it and kill it or I would not be sleeping at home that day - or any other day for that matter.
As we followed into the room, he headed straight for the wardrobe where his magic stick was brought into play, prodding and beating around the poor wardrobe. More “nanku’s” (”here it is”) and “nankuyana’s” (”there it is”) followed as our hero, throwing caution to the wind, used his bare hands to catch the “killer” creature.
Finally, he shouted: “I got it.”
We all gathered, scared and weak. Then we all saw “it”.
I swear, he could have demanded 10 cows at that point and he would sure have got them.
In front of us was this “thing”, perhaps the size of a TV remote control. I think I saw it breathing, before the “prophet” told us he was ending its life by pouring “holy water” over it.
The overall demand was that the “thing” must be dismembered so we all see what it really was. From the outside, it was a body of colourful rags, all tied around a firmer inside.
Slowly, the “prophet” stripped the layers off, explaining as he did that the “thing” lived on sucking blood.
Finally, he came to the heart of the object and I saw a lot of fat around it, and some fresh blood coming out of what perhaps was a wound inflicted by our holy man.
The thing took some two hours to fully burn, the fat almost putting out the fire which had been especially lit some 100m from the home.
The prophet would put up at our home that day, perhaps to ensure he deals with any reinforcements that might be deployed by the “thing’s” owner.
A cleansing ritual followed in which we were made to bath in “umswane wembuzi” (”waste from the stomach of a slaughtered goat”). The ritual was conducted behind some rocks and we were instructed not to look back, or the “thing” would return. I later heard the “prophet” had got all the goat meat as none of us could eat it, or… yes, you guessed it, that little blood-sucking monster would return!
This little story was inspired by the curious case of the Hwange women who say they were victims of a sex-crazed tokoloshe which left them exhausted after nocturnal sex romps with them.
I don’t know what to make of their story, just as I don’t know what to make of my story.
A bit of me thinks it was all a fraud because I am convinced my grandfather died because his time had come, and not because he had been sucked dry by some fat creature.
And yet another part of me believes there is an undiscovered science in Africa which, if used positively, could really help us all.
http://www.newzimbabwe.com/blog/?p=516
(Submitted by T. Peter Park)
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