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Edo was more affected by his best friend’s death than he let on, especially since Patient was his only friend. They were more brothers than buddies, and Edo knew that Patient had been exceptionally patient with him throughout their lives. Now that he was gone, Edo suddenly felt the weight of loneliness. He loved no one, not even Patient, whom he merely tolerated by his side. But he knew that he could rely on him. Patient was like a solid rock against which he felt he could lean on when he needed to, without having to express any affection towards it. Patient filled the office of confidante, punching bag, side-kick, spy, spokesperson, and one would think he was more his secretary than his friend. But Patient did not mind, being a mild and gentle soul.

Edo hid behind a shrubbery and started crying, more for himself than for his friend. He realised that life was about to get lonelier, and somehow more evil. For reasons unknown to him he felt guilty, as if he had used a gun and fired at Patient. Don’t be ridiculous, he admonished himself, without successfully suppressing his growing anguish. Patient’s family was crying pitifully, especially his mother who had collapsed when she had failed to wake him up earlier in the morning. No one will cry so when I die, Edo grimly noted. His own mother’s heart was dry like the Sahara desert, and his father was just as emotionally absent, like many fathers in Congo. He doubted anyone would miss him much if he passed on, and he felt no qualms about it. Life was what it was, and one did the best one could with it, without making anyone responsible for one’s happiness. Edo was well on his way to becoming a ruthless, harsh and unloving man.

At night, Edo did not hesitate about what he had to do. Like an automate he wore his black mask and made his way to the forest. He settled, alone this time, in the little hovel and waited for customers. He felt apprehensive about Patient’s absence. This time, he thought, people will put one and one together and come to the conclusion that

it’s been Patient and myself all along playing witch-doctors. He thought that the inhabitants of Kigoma would think it was no coincidence that the day Patient died was also the day one of the two witch-doctors disappeared. But not exercising would raise suspicions too, and besides he had tasted money, and wanted more. So he sat down and waited for customers. Not long after the first one clapped his hands outside, in a sign of respect. It was a man everybody called Mouse, the big burly guy from the other side of the railroad who, everybody claimed, was unusually strong because he was missing a bone in his arm. At least that was the explanation people had come up with. mouse was gentle, and always had a smile for anyone he met in the street. No one had ever seen him fight, so it was not sure where rumours of his phenomenal strength had come from. Mouse, although sweet like a lamb, came from a very disreputable family of witches whose names I will not mention. It was said that when his father died, the night he was buried, he came back from the grave, climbed a tree to access an elevated position and glared down at the people who had come for the ceremonial meal. The visitors saw him and scampered in all directions, crying scandal and shaking their heads in fear and disbelief. But that night Mouse startled Edo by entering his hovel, obviously requiring his help. Why is he here? Edo furiously wondered. Has he not got all he needs in terms of sorcery? Has he come to test me? But Mouse opened his mouth and announced that he only needed a strength amulet, in order to be the strongest wrestler Congo had ever seen. But that’s not what disturbed Edo the most. As soon as Mouse uttered those words, he turned to where Patient usually sat when he was alive and acknowledged him by bowing his head. Edo started, and scanned the whole place: next to him, Patient’s shadow sat, black immaterial mass vaguely shaped like a boy. Edo stared at it, dumbfounded, unable to utter a single word. His blood froze in his veins, his heart stopped beating, and he realized that he was peeing his pants. The shadow, which Edo had no doubt was his friend, spoke in a voice that sounded as if it had no right being heard: let’s proceed with the consultation, brother, can’t you see that Mouse is waiting?

Patient’s sepulchral voice resonated in Edo’s spirit and forged a channel of communication Edo did not know existed within him. Edo felt he was being stretched wide, and he cried out in fright more than in pain. He was being expanded, deeper and deeper and he discovered a being inside himself, large like a house, complex, intense and very aware! Patient’s voice rang in him with a lugubrious echo, a voice full of accusation, bitterness and resentment. Come on! The voice egged him on, we have work to do, Brother! Edo felt Patient’s voice tying itself to him like a snake trying to kill its prey, but also like a slave submitting to a cruel master. A sudden ashy taste filled his mouth: why was he feeling like a master to this horrible voice? The answer came fast, like in a dialogue: Patient, or rather Patient’s spirit had become his serving spirit. That explains the resentment in the shadow of my friend’s voice, he thought. His capacity to feel remorseful was very limited, so as these thoughts unravelled in his mind he caught himself accepting them, and soon he felt very comfortable thinking of himself as Patient’s Master. Even the horror of having subjected his best friend, whom he viewed as a brother, quickly vanished and soon he found It normal ordering the poor, miserable soul around. All these spiritual concepts came to him naturally, and he acted upon them more by instinct than by understanding and knowledge. Mouse was still sitting on the floor in front of him, a faint smile playing on his thick, black lips. Edo felt a sudden surge of hatred towards him. He did not know how, but now he was convinced that Mouse’s presence was suspicious, and somehow tied to what he was experiencing concerning his best friend. Had Mouse come to facilitate the spiritual experience he had just had? The more he wondered, the more Edo thought so. Another thought crossed his mind: he had no doubt that not everyone could see the form of his friend. If Mouse had been able to, it meant he was somehow a witch himself, or had he come to taunt him more or less openly? Edo was now so angry that he pointed his finger towards the door and ordered Mouse to leave at once.

This time Mouse smiled so arrogantly that Edo felt assaulted. Mouse rose to his feet ever so slowly, towered over Edo and stood there a few seconds. He was muscular, medium height, but that night he looked like a giant. His usual bonhomie had vanished to make place for incredible cruelty, which his little steely black eyes shot like bullets. You’re in deep, little kid, he heinously said. Yes, Edo, I know it’s you under that mask. And I have come to introduce you to your slave. But don’t think for a second that I’m on your side. I hate you, and I will kill you when the moment comes. I have heard of your little exploits, and it bothers me. You are nothing, and you will die before you live out what you really want to do. Watch out! And on that he slipped out and disappeared in the night. Edo did not fully understand what mouse had uttered, but he knew, felt, that the threat was real. He had not understood the world he had stepped foot in, but he sensed he had shifted the order of things and they were readjusting and moving to make space for him, and in the process upsetting things, demons and humans.