Ask the Stars by Anthony Mugo

Author:Anthony Mugo [Anthony Mugo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789966310620
Publisher: Longhorn Publishers

Chapter TWELVE

A sorcerer? Was Father serious? I was lost. I had grown up regarding him as a tower of morality. To him, right and wrong were as distinct as fingerprints, and he had done his best to embrace what was right. The village had held him in high regard. Indeed, many wished he was in a position of influence. What had changed? We had grown on a strong Christian foundation, with Father being a church elder, Mother a member of choir and the rest of us members of the church youth group. That notwithstanding, sorcerers were considered misfits of the worst order. Judging from the folklore, sorcery was part and parcel of our cultural heritage which our ancestors traded with Christianity. But Christianity buried it without killing it first, and it was ever trying to surface.

Mung’etho had no sorcerer, but rumours were rife of villagers going far off in pursuit of their services. Anyone suspected of visiting a sorcerer was dreaded and shunned. There was one Wangithi who always went shopping after dusk. Following a week-long absence – that villagers hastily connected to a visit to a sorcerer – her fierce husband became docile and recluse. As we stole guava and macadamia from the neighbourhood, nobody would dare touch her huge farm. Indeed, we were advised never to shake her hand. Did Father consider this risk, or was he so consumed with justice for Antonnina to consider its aftermath? Father was clearly brewing a conflict between past and present civilisations. Would Mung’etho dwellers regress to the dark, primitive days, if only to get rid of the rapist?

By the time I woke up Father had already left. He did not open the inn that day. Njorua took it upon himself to spread the word on the sorcerer in Mung’etho and by noon a hot debate was afoot on ethics of hosting the sorcerer.

God’s Church came out with its guns blazing. Hoping to hammer some sense into Father’s head, a section of God’s Church elders, led by Joan’s father Edward Kimotho, paid us a visit.

“We are gathered here out of concern that one of our sheep is going astray,” Kimotho started. “Kindly assure us that the rumours going round are unfounded.”

Six pairs of eyes bore into Father’s face which mirrored the turbulence killing him from within.

“God have mercy on us,” Kimotho said feelingly, taking silence for confirmation. “You are a man of God, remember? Evidently, the tragedy that befell your family has clouded your reason. I don’t blame you; you are born of blood and flesh thus susceptible to temptations. Nevertheless, the word of the Lord, that wisdom of ages and our guiding star, is as clear and firm as ever: sorcery glorifies Satan’s kingdom. By involving a sorcerer you taint your faith and the church’s image.”

“I can’t agree with you more,” Father said coolly. The church delegation appeared stupefied.

“Then you will call off the exercise?” one of the elders asked with anticipation.

“Yes,” Father said throwing me off balance and prompting triumphant smiles on the faces of the delegates.

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