It seemed the only purpose of the skirt was to hold the scores of pockets sewn onto the inside of it. After a good long stretch that focused everyone’s attention, she fished the skirt off the bush, but instead of putting it back around her waist, she lay it out like a picnic blanket beside the sunken plough disk, and rooted around in the pockets till she came up with a pouch of tobacco and a small pipe.
“The tobacco smoke attracts the spirits to the material world,” she explained to the assembled crowd. Someone handed her a burning stick from the nearby fire and she lit her pipe. Soon its rich aroma wafted into the night air. After settling herself cross-legged on her skirt and taking a couple of puffs, she blew gently on the stick to coax a flame and carefully lit the fourteen citronella candles which Joe’s mother had packed in his camping gear to use as a mosquito repellent. Two for each night they were supposed to be camping. As each candle ignited, the witch planted it in a circle in the sand around the disk. The acrid smell of insecticide wafted up to mingle with the rich smell of the tobacco.
The disk, sunk to its brim in the sand, looked like a perfectly spherical puddle. They all gazed at it with bated breath as candlelight flickered and oscillated, casting a strange glimmer over the surface of the water in the dark night. Ethan wondered if the candles were cheap and faulty, or if the witch was making them burn so strangely.
The clearing grew eerily quiet, the only sounds the soft tinkling of the rapids beyond the pool and a single drum beating a slow rhythm in the background.
The witch seemed to be in no hurry as she brought her tin mug up to her mouth and took a swig. A small rivulet of beer ran down her chin. She lowered her mug, wiped her mouth with the back of a wrinkled hand and said, “I’m so sorry about all this...”
“Where is our boy?” interrupted a fierce-looking man Ethan had not noticed before, his patience with the slow ritual wearing thin. Eyes gleaming in the firelight, he stood at the back, leaning on a long pole, its one end sharpened into a stake. Jimoh’s father glowered at the man.
The witch paused, her pipe halfway to her lips. “We had no choice in the matter. It was a life or death situation,” she said indignantly.
Uncoiling himself from his warm place by the fire, the leopard padded softly over to the witch, butted his head against her hand, and then sat beside her, radiating disapproval.
The angry man was not intimidated by this display, but the other villagers shuffled back a little and watched the cat warily. Ethan felt a knot of tension grow in his stomach. Most of the villagers had relaxed around the cat once they realised it was her pet, but the animal still gave him a creepy feeling.
The witch relaxed her hand on the leopard’s back and his expression softened a little. “Your boy has been pulled into Karibu, where I come from,” she explained. “We were captured and feared for our lives, so we had to make a switch. Unfortunately, I believe, when we jumped into your world, your boy jumped into our world.”
An angry murmur rose from some of the men as this was translated to them, and they realised that the witch herself might have somehow caused Joe to disappear. The leopard bristled with menace, but Ethan seemed to be the only one aware of it.
“Do not worry,” the witch said quickly. “The boy will be quite safe. The ones who captured me have no fight with boys, only witches.”
“What if they think Joe is a witch who has changed herself into a boy?” one of the mothers said, pushing her bottom lip out in an angry pout. Ethan was shocked at how easily the villagers seemed prepared to believe that Joe had traded places with the witch. Then again, he had bought her story too...
“Witches in Karibu cannot change shape,” the witch reassured the woman.
“It was bloody irresponsible of you to take the risk,” the angry man sneered at
“The tobacco smoke attracts the spirits to the material world,” she explained to the assembled crowd. Someone handed her a burning stick from the nearby fire and she lit her pipe. Soon its rich aroma wafted into the night air. After settling herself cross-legged on her skirt and taking a couple of puffs, she blew gently on the stick to coax a flame and carefully lit the fourteen citronella candles which Joe’s mother had packed in his camping gear to use as a mosquito repellent. Two for each night they were supposed to be camping. As each candle ignited, the witch planted it in a circle in the sand around the disk. The acrid smell of insecticide wafted up to mingle with the rich smell of the tobacco.
The disk, sunk to its brim in the sand, looked like a perfectly spherical puddle. They all gazed at it with bated breath as candlelight flickered and oscillated, casting a strange glimmer over the surface of the water in the dark night. Ethan wondered if the candles were cheap and faulty, or if the witch was making them burn so strangely.
The clearing grew eerily quiet, the only sounds the soft tinkling of the rapids beyond the pool and a single drum beating a slow rhythm in the background.
The witch seemed to be in no hurry as she brought her tin mug up to her mouth and took a swig. A small rivulet of beer ran down her chin. She lowered her mug, wiped her mouth with the back of a wrinkled hand and said, “I’m so sorry about all this...”
“Where is our boy?” interrupted a fierce-looking man Ethan had not noticed before, his patience with the slow ritual wearing thin. Eyes gleaming in the firelight, he stood at the back, leaning on a long pole, its one end sharpened into a stake. Jimoh’s father glowered at the man.
The witch paused, her pipe halfway to her lips. “We had no choice in the matter. It was a life or death situation,” she said indignantly.
Uncoiling himself from his warm place by the fire, the leopard padded softly over to the witch, butted his head against her hand, and then sat beside her, radiating disapproval.
The angry man was not intimidated by this display, but the other villagers shuffled back a little and watched the cat warily. Ethan felt a knot of tension grow in his stomach. Most of the villagers had relaxed around the cat once they realised it was her pet, but the animal still gave him a creepy feeling.
The witch relaxed her hand on the leopard’s back and his expression softened a little. “Your boy has been pulled into Karibu, where I come from,” she explained. “We were captured and feared for our lives, so we had to make a switch. Unfortunately, I believe, when we jumped into your world, your boy jumped into our world.”
An angry murmur rose from some of the men as this was translated to them, and they realised that the witch herself might have somehow caused Joe to disappear. The leopard bristled with menace, but Ethan seemed to be the only one aware of it.
“Do not worry,” the witch said quickly. “The boy will be quite safe. The ones who captured me have no fight with boys, only witches.”
“What if they think Joe is a witch who has changed herself into a boy?” one of the mothers said, pushing her bottom lip out in an angry pout. Ethan was shocked at how easily the villagers seemed prepared to believe that Joe had traded places with the witch. Then again, he had bought her story too...
“Witches in Karibu cannot change shape,” the witch reassured the woman.
“It was bloody irresponsible of you to take the risk,” the angry man sneered at
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