A woman walks the darkest village footpaths heading to the heart of the market Square – going to see mamalawoh as a Christian was not what she ever imagined herself indulging in or ever wanted. She was a staunch Christian and didn’t want anyone in her congregation to know that she went to any other consultations for her predicament. The powers of darkness had nothing to do with a child of God, daughter of Zion and a renowned CWA Christian – but her child was sick- very very sick… she needed an option because science, medicine and prayers had not yielded so far and the condition had visibly deteriorated.

It had taken her 6 years to finally bear a child in her late forties, after pleading with anything that had ears to hid to her plea… She was desperate – she slept at the alter in a pool of her tears and caressed the pews in a pitiful sight that even the most Piet of people would feel desperate for an instant miracle. No matter her effort to go unnoticed in the church for lingering hours after the service was over a few keen members remember her and will tell you the most devout Christian was this lady with a heart of pure cotton wool and hands that could sooth any misery in the church except her own… Which she wore the bravest face against.

Her answers to questions about the condition by other brethren’s was –
“the good lord in his own time will make everything beautiful again” or
“we are well and getting better by his grace” or the shortest one on days when her faith was tested to the brink – “his grace is sufficient”– there was never a time when she showed weakness in the face of her troubles – never until this day that took her legs to this path, shamelessly turning her back to God and her face from the light – her mind was made she was heading deeper and deeper into the abyss – the abyss of the mamalowoh for answers.

She delved deeper in the mat tents and palm fonts of the market sheds, dissapearing deeper into the darkness – the smell of rubbish at the back of the butchers abattoir – the stench of animal blood the number of cows which had been slaughtered and killed for their skin and their meat… hung thick in the air like a sacrifice of life reminding the earth of its own destruction.

This time of the night gave way for the earth to soaked the blood at the slaughter house, to cool and emit hot vaporised blood scented air that covered the market like a tainted invisible blanket at night time… She walked_ overhearing whispers of the men who hid in the corners of dark sheds planning their activities for the night… Lovers who could not afford a place for intimacy or hiding their disgraceful actions from the world used the venue as a rendezvous location to carry out the most bizarre of actions – she minded her business, rushing to her destination before dawn caught her like a masquerade, her pain and fear of losing the most precious thing she had, shoehorned her further into the darkness … without fear, dread or anything but the paramount uncertainty that was but certain to end in death and loss.

(more…)