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The following day, Edo seemed to be his old self again, sour and mean. But even under the harsh light of the tropical sun, the previous night's events still felt real and vivid. Patient now looked at Edo with a mixture of fear and pity. What had his friend done? Patient had no doubt that the path Edo was about to embark on was terrible, worse than deadly. In Africa, people don't fear Death, but they dread what comes after.

Later in the day, news spread that there was a new witch doctor in the area, and he would start his office the same night. Women, who constituted the biggest percentage of a witch doctor's clientele, could not wait to see how he looked like. There were whispers in the whole of Kigoma, excitement in the air, even the wind seemed to be transporting the news to whatever plant would hear. And everybody knows that plants are curious by nature. Patient saw the night quickly approaching with the greatest of apprehensions. Somehow he wanted to tell his friend he would not be there to masquerade a witch's assistant, but Edo seemed to have completely subjugated him. Nothing else memorable occured in the day. When night came, after yet another miserable supper, Patient slipped out of the mud house which he shared with his mother, father and five brothers, and made his way to their point of rendez-vous. The night was thick. It was not very late, barely 7h30. This part of Congo did not have electricity, but the streets were lit by a myriad of oil lamps. The two friends met and started walking South, silently. after 15 minutes, the dirt road abruptly stopped, and the bush started. The two boys walked on into the bush...

 

This bush was a town before, mainly populated by people from the two Kasai provinces. But one day, for reasons we will explore in another account, the local people viciously attacked the Kasai folks, killing many and forcefully sending the rest back to the Kasai territory. The Kasais hastily abandoned their mud houses which, after a few rainy seasons, turned into dirt mounds. With the flight of humans, the bush started reclaiming its territory. But if you entered the bush you would still see remains of a past life, like half a wall still bitterly erected, seeming to claim justice against the horrible crime perpetrated against the Kasai people. During the day, people crossed the bush to go to the Congo Township, but at night very few souls dared do the same. The bush was reputed to host a horde of bandits and witches who hid in parts of it no one else knew about. But that night Edo resolutely penetrated it, marching fast as if he already knew where to go. Patient, worried and half dead with fright, followed him, not wanting to be left behind, internally cursing his friend and wishing he had stayed in his warm and safe hovel, securely tucked away between his brothers’ smelly bodies. Edo and Patient had played many times before in the bush, and they thought they knew every corner of it. But that night, to his great surprise, Patient followed Edo to places he had never been before. After 15 or 20 minutes of walking they arrived in front of a half destroyed hovel. A white cross had been drawn on its front wall with white chalk, probably by Edo himself in order to recognise it in the dark. Without slowing down the two boys entered.

The house was made of two small rooms. They settled in the bigger one, which was wide enough and covered with grass. In the centre lay a mat surrounded by an assortment of objects: Strange colourful liquids in glass bottles, little dead animals; a mouse, a cat’s tail, what looked like a dog’s tail, two or three mirrors, a basin filled with water, a knife, a brazier with hot coals on it, and other items he did not recognise. Patient was awed at his friend’s focus and resourcefulness. He had gone ahead to prepare the place, and now it looked like a real Witch-doctor’s lair. Not that he had ever been in one, but he imagined the inside of a sorcerer’s house would look like this. The scene is set, Patient thought, now let’s see if we have customers. Edo handed him a piece of black fabric, then covered himself with a similar cloth before sitting down. Patient followed suit.

They had been silently sitting down a few minutes, which felt like hours, when they heard a rustling noise, so soft one had the impression it was just the wind blowing on the grass. Both boys pricked their ears, worried and tensed. Yes, they could hear distinct footsteps approaching in the dark, probably produced by what they imagined was someone very light, or maybe immaterial? Patient’s heart tightened. He sat up, ready to jump and take off in the direction of his mother’s house. Even Edo frowned, looking slightly worried. They waited, hearts wildly beating in their tiny chests, and beating harder as the footsteps approached. Very soon the person, or the non-person was standing right outside. He, or she looked like a giant, and cast a long monstrous shadow in the hovel. The person stepped inside and Patient suppressed a laughter under his cover. It was a woman, and she was no monster. Her name was Kabedi, a tall and heavy set prostitute with the most enormous pair of breasts Patient had ever seen. They preceded her like a proud bow of a boat, bravely fending apart the waves of life. Kabedi was a sweet woman who would never hurt a fly, and Patient was glad it was her that had frightened him, not some spirit of the night. He could even sense that Edo had also relaxed.

Kabedi was a frequent customer of witch-doctors. She saw no harm in consulting the ancestors, as long as she did not kill anyone. The practice of seeing a witch-doctor was frowned upon in the city, but still many people did not hesitate to discreetly go to the bush and use the services of one. A witch-doctor provided love potions, death potions, amulets for luck, strength, success. Scores of people, especially women, visited them under the cover of the dark. Witch-doctors never advertised their services, yet everybody who cared/needed them knew exactly where to find them. People of all conditions, from company directors to their wives to the humblest vendor in the market knocked at their doors in search of a solution to a problem. A witch-doctor could be your friend or your foe, or even both at the same time. They never rejected anyone who went to them. Sometimes they provided such contradictory services to the same person that anecdotes of people that had been left in a tricky situation circulated. A witch-doctor could concoct a mixture to kill your enemy, and make another mixture for your enemy to kill you. But Edo did not care about any such, he did not think we would need to kill anyone anytime soon. His main concern was to lift himself out of poverty. His motives were not noble. He did not plan to rescue his family in the same vein, all he thought about was his own self. He did not care about what happened to his mother and sibling if he struck it rich as a witch-doctor and left Kigoma. As far as he was concerned, every one was responsible for his own self, and that was that. Through his black veil, he stared at Kabedi, trying to figure out what she wanted. Probably more men? Kabedi’s breasts had been her trademark, and had brought her good business. But one could clearly see that gravity was taking its toll on the famous goods, and that they were only precariously supported by a strong bra. Not even the cleanest, Edo thought with disgust. She was on a downhill slope, aging more rapidly than was natural, fading and withering like an old flower. She will not get better, Edo thought. She will not even hang on longer to her few remaining customers, who only visit her because they can’t afford fresher and more pulpous girls like Stella and Wivine. But still, I am not here to dispense truths, I’m here to make money, therefore I will tell her what she wants to hear. With a professionalism that would have fooled the most experienced, Edo sat Kabedi down, not before asking her to remove her shoes and leave them outside. He then pointed to a small woken bowl, into which the prostitute dropped a few bank notes. For a split second, Edo’s eyes shone like a cat’s, before returning to their dull brown colour. What can I do for you, Kabedi? Edo asked, and Patient knew this was the moment Kabedi would grab them both by the ears, twist them like a mop before returning them to their mothers. No one would be fooled by that prepubescent voice, and surely Kabedi would recognise us and stop this masquerade? But the middle-aged hooker did none of that. She was the kind of women who saw her productive years coming to an end, and was desperate enough to see just any one who would help her. Men are scarce, Baba, she replied. I’m not making as much money as I used to, and even when a customer comes to me, Wivine shows up and makes herself noticeable. I think, Baba, that Wivine has an amulet that allows her to steal my men, and I would love one also to counterattack her devices. This time Edo could not suppress his smile. Kabedi was 41 and tired, whereas Wivine was 17 and fresh like a daisy, and it was clear that Wivine did not need any amulet for her elder’s men to come to her. But again, Edo needed to sell his fake amulets, which he had made earlier in the day. So he gave her three, two to wear around her waist and a tiny one to keep in her vagina at all costs. A few minutes later Kabedi left, clutching at her three fake amulets with great hope.

Three more people came that night, and before long the little wooden bowl was overflowing with cash. Patient could not believe his eyes. When they felt the freshness of Dawn approaching, the two friends got up and starting walking home. Edo handed his friend half of the night’s earnings. Patient had never seen, or touched so much money in his life. This is just the beginning, Edo promised. Patient shuddered. The beginning of what? He thought, full of apprehension and dread.