My Boyfriend , Atlas .

16.

The night comes with such a bitterness that the rutted brown fields take on the appearance of a sugared cobbler under the moonlight. The cold steals every bit of water from the air it can in its frenzy to frost over the countryside and only sweet stories provide warmth.

There is a way we tell stories in Zambezi , an ancient tradition that we must never break . Words that must be said before every story.

" Pali Akatunse! " , grandfather Kaluba would say , at the top of every story.

" kaikele ngefitwikele...." , My siblings and I would respond in unison.

My grandfather was a great storyteller , he told terrible tales of wars and bloodshed , fantastic tales of his journey to the town from the village...of men and beasts . There was never a dull moment in his company .

Among all his stories my favourite was the one about , the Kapaipi and his concubine.  And like most of his famous tales,  no story was ever complete without tales of wizardry and witchcraft.

"Cheke cheke cheke ..." , the bead shaker rang from the hand of the Ng'anga , the witch doctor.   A bright orange light  from the kerosene lamp  could be seen beyond the four walls of the healing hut .

Papa Madzi a Mbale  ,  was a man of ambiguous age . His white streaks of hairs and wrinkled face  suggested , wisdom  and  a nonagenarian man  but his scary ,  strong well formed masculine body made him seem much younger.  His large body was clothed in lion skin and his neck was adorn with the skulls of man different animals and beads necklaces.  On his head a crown of a crocodile's head adorned him  , Papa Madzi a mbale was truly a frightening  sight to behold .

" My daughter I saw you coming...." , he said turning to the door.  Great aunty Nkumbukira  stood at the door,  her body in a uncontrollable shiver . She holds her body tight as she walks in from the rain  .

The woman is clearly old but fighting it every step of the way. Her hair is an ivory  and the black skin of her face looks too tight. Her lips have been fattened and her eyelashes are false. What she can't hide is the redistribution of her body fat. Even with countless hours of pamper  ,her waist was thicker and stomach more relaxed. She was at the point that the more effort she made to appear youthful the worse she would look. A bright red colour was generously smeared over her lips.

" It's cold outside .." , she says with a sympathetic smile .

" It is always cold on such nights ...." , The traditional healer's voice booms .

" I Assume that you know why I'm here Papa...."

" Your niece ....."

She nods.

" The spirits that trouble her grow stronger by the day ....we must act fast   ......"

" What do we do Papa? ....."

" her friend Sakwhima.... will be our Pawn.... bring me the hair of one of her closest family members...and I will show you ....why  they call me great ..." , he says with a crooked smile .

" You are wise.....you hold the power of the gods ...." , she says in deep Chewa .

" I am the great Papa Madzi a mbale..... I tell no lies ....! " , he says his thunderous  voice one with the lightning outside.