- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
One memorable encounter with magic was a few weeks ago, as summer was really hitting its stride -- one of those days where, even with a fan you still want nothing more than to jump into a pool of ice water. On hot nights, people start to sleep outside to escape their heat-retaining concrete houses.
"You shouldn't sleep outside unless other people are also doing it," my neighbor cautioned, "People have been attacked in the past."
"Attacked?" I asked hesitantly, wondering if my town isn't as safe as I thought it was.
"Yes. By hyenas."
"Uh... hyenas?" I was starting to get nervous about what was really out there in the bush.
"Yes. They're like ghosts, and they come and get you when you're alone. They've very aggressive."
It was at this point when I realized we were not talking about real hyenas, but about magical spirit hyenas. The real kicker was what came next, though.
"Yes, those hyenas are ferocious. Someone saw two of them just last night," she said thoughtfully, "They were wearing baseball caps."
Hmm. OK, sure... transparent ghost-hyenas wearing baseball hats. Sounds legit. No chance at all, of course, that this may have been some of the neighborhood children causing a ruckus. Nope, it was angry spirit hyenas.
Wearing baseball caps.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My second memorable encounter came just a few days later, on a windy cloudless night.
"Come outside! The world is ending! Come quickly!" my neighbor cried, "The moon is gone!"
My roommate and I rushed outside, and there, in the sky, was a faintly glowing, fuzzy white circle.
"What is it?" people were whispering. The glowing orb was so faint that you couldn't see it if you looked straight at it -- you had to look with your peripheral vision.
"It's probably just a lunar eclipse," my roommate said matter-of-factly. "Yes, this is definitely a lunar eclipse."
That's when the energy went out. Men gasped, children screamed, and women crossed themselves, holding their rosaries.
"It's the end of the world!" people were shouting.
At this point, everyone was outside of their houses, holding their loved ones close, the sound of howling wind mixing with their frantic prayer. It was a tense few minutes.
And then... it disappeared. To be more specific, it dissipated. The wind died down, and the energy came back on. People looked around, shrugged, and went back inside.
Spoiler alert: The world did not end that day. In fact, a US-launched rocket had dumped fuel in the atmosphere, and that was what caused the creepy white cloud. That's what the scientists say, anyway. My neighbors? Well, they're convinced it was a sign from the ancestors, who were clearly unhappy. Interestingly enough, that week all the teachers were at school -- no one skipped, everyone did their job. It seems fear of the apocalypse will do wonders for job productivity!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My third major encounter with magic took place just last week, and has a much more tragic ending.
In the really rural bush towns, curandeiros, or witch doctors, are still considered the go-to solution for illnesses, curses, and life's setbacks. Most of the time, the healing of curandeiros consists of a paste made of herbs, or magical plants tied around parts of the body in special ways. However, it's not unheard of for curandeiros to use rather extreme measures -- specifically, kidnapping children and using their bones and blood to cast the most powerful of spells.
It happened last week at about six-thirty at night. One of the seventh-graders from my school was walking back to Mavudzi-Ponte after a weekend at his home village a dozen kilometers away. In a stroke of luck, a passing Land Cruiser stopped, and the driver offered him a ride. The kid got in the back of the truck and settled down for the short ride. In no time at all, they arrived in Mavudzi-Ponte. The driver of the car had his windows closed and his radio up, so he didn't hear the kid knocking on the glass of the cab to signal his desire to get out. He just kept driving, straight past Mavudzi-Ponte.
At this point, the kid started to panic, thinking he was being kidnapped. Having heard horror stories from his parents and grandparents about the fate of children doomed for use in black magic, he made a decision. Better to be permanently scarred and deformed than dead in the bush, he reasoned. Then he jumped out of moving car.
Unfortunately, he underestimated the speed of the Land Cruiser. When he landed, he bounced, and cracked his skull open on the pavement, dying almost instantly. A simple journey, that he had made many times before, proved fatal this time.
The next day at school, classes were canceled. All the teachers facilitated conversations with their classes about what is and is not dangerous, and each student gave a contribution for the dead student's family. The student was buried the very next day, and after that, life went back to normal as if nothing had happened.
"É assim que o Moçambicano morre," my friend said sadly, shaking her head. "This is how Mozambicans die."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
No comments:
Post a Comment