Something to spook your socks off

A public figure in a port town, he constantly was faced with decisions. Whether or not to close the port. Whether or not to stand up for principles over corruption, in a country and culture operating under the thick influence of corruption. Whether or not to call off search and rescue efforts due to inclement weather conditions. Such decisions can create strong allies with those respectful of one’s commitment to humanity and justice. Even more powerful are the enemies that inevitably form once their interests are violated.

In 2005, serving the first of a two-year mandate in the Town, he opted to follow the law and ignore several bribery attempts in various scandals that shook the area. One exemplary case revolved around medical professionals fraudulently filling forms required for law enforcement officials’ proof of eligibility to serve. He turned all evidence over to the Powers that Be, and several were brought to justice, some currently serving prison sentences.

His position often called him out of full nights’ sleep. He had to live separated from his family, his wife and his young children. He had to travel frequently to the capital for legal proceedings in which he was tried under money laundering charges stemming from service under a past president’s regime. He had to constantly deal with the press, especially when there would be a death at sea. He had to answer to fishermen or tourist agencies that depended on the sea to grant them their daily bread each time he closed the port. Once every so often he would be able to get out for a run; he enjoyed running and could easily run the length of the shore between the fishing and the tourist ports, a distance of about ten miles. However, as his daily decisions continued to garner him both the strongest of supporters and the worst of critiques, threats began to reach his ears and he felt he must only leave his quarters either accompanied or packing heat, usually both.

In the next year his health began to deteriorate. He began to experience intense stomach pains. Having always led a rather stressful existence, ulcers were a normal health consideration, and his doctors continued with the same diagnosis for the new pain. He stopped smoking, he stopped drinking and he began to eat well. His physique radically improved, yet the pain only continued to increase. Toward the end of his two-year charge in the Town, he underwent a gall bladder removal. Soon thereafter he returned to his home, leaving the Town and all those issues, optimistically, behind. Three weeks later he fell deathly ill with vertigo while out running and was admitted for a two-week stay in the hospital. He was found not guilty on the money laundering charges, although many others tried alongside him were sent to prison. He recovered from the vertigo, but the stomach pain ensued. Endoscopy after endoscopy, blood test after blood test followed, with a diagnosis of metaplasia--pre-stomach cancer.

The stressful life continued, as work continued to drain him of positive energies. He was held at gunpoint as a thug attempted a robbery on his car. Both he and his wife were involved in minor car accidents within the City. Legal proceedings revolving around the possible interception of telephone calls then took precedence and, although the hearings still have yet to begin the stress of pure anticipation eroded his soul.

It seemed that one bad thing after another continued to occur and, all the meanwhile his stomach pain increased, to the point of barely being able to eat. Bowel movements became problematically loose and he was beginning to lose hope that he, at 39 years of age, had much time left on Earth.

An old friend, of whose daughter he happened to be named godfather, approached him one day and mentioned the possibility of a hex having been placed on him. Both being Catholics, living in an extremely Catholic country, he laughed off that extremely Nancy Drew-esque possibility yet his companion persisted. Over the course of a month he continued to press him to visit a special doctor, a shaman, one who is known for being able to see what is wrong, beyond that which traditional Western medicine will, in what can be its limited scientific scope, be capable of identifying. Finally convinced that he had absolutely nothing to lose, he allowed himself to be taken to this doctor. In a very short time he was told that he had been stricken with powerful curses and was to be sent immediately to visit a type of a sage, a seer, a priest--the appropriate title is elusive but this man had the ability not to cure, as the shaman would, but instead to define and to cast out or undo spells, tasks that fall beyond the scope of a shaman's abilities.

Extremely dubious but feeling, again, that there was nothing to lose he found himself at 6:30 a.m. the next morning at the steps of this seer. There were five others already awaiting his attentions, and there was nothing he could do but wait. He was invited in at 6:30 p.m. and the sage spent two and a half frightfully irrational hours with him.

The region in which he served his two years is one of great Afro-creole influence. Witchcraft is famously practiced there; world-famously, individuals have been known to travel to this area in search of cures for maladies which Western medicine had written off as terminal. White witchcraft invoking the Christian God, Biblical study, love and natural remedies acts as a powerful antidote to black magic that calls up diabolical powers to act in pure hatred against its victims, and both are actively and naturally sought by the population of this area; indeed, the embracing of such powers is as natural as breathing and as accepted as eating.

It was discovered that three different individuals, on three completely separate occasions and in three different locations had created powerful spells of hate toward him. The sage presented him with three bags in which a doll, hand-printed hatred chants on evidently-aged paper, and various “charms” were enclosed. Among these charms were dead frogs, snakes, bullets, items collected from what had been a meeting between him and each of these individuals, and one bag even included a photo of him that was a couple of years old, taken of him when he had assumed his position in the Town in 2005.

He was dumbfounded. His rational mind refused to comprehend the pure quantity of items that were laid in front of him, the demonstrated hatred toward him. How could he, a well-educated Catholic believer and a moral man, fall victim to or even believe that such witchery could do such damage, let alone exist? He logically determined there was no way this photo could have been obtained by this sage or by anybody merely working with him. His identity was unknown to this man previous to the visit. How could he have been so hated? He was presented with evidences of identity of those who created these black death wishes, who are indeed currently serving prison sentences for crimes committed. Also spoken of were explicit details of his life that are not public knowledge and with such detail that he left, two and a half hours later, completely stupefied.

Somebody wanted him to die. Three people wished him to die. The curses varied, but in common they all attacked his gut, with snakes in the entrails of the dolls. There were written desires for him to die in an accident or to be shot. The priest undid these curses and told him that he could only undo that which was the Devil’s work. Any naturally caused bodily degradation would require medical attention and treatment. Homework readings of Bible Scripture were assigned for mental cleansing. The sage said that any other person would be dead already after trying to fight the power of this hatred already for two full years; he did not see how this individual had thus far overcome the evil working over his being. The human body and soul cannot tolerate the manifestation of so much pure evil.

This which I relate above occurred this past Wednesday and Thursday. He was reported on Friday to feel at about 75% less abdominal pain than he had felt in recent months, without any production of gas whatsoever in digestion, also a rarity now, and he purportedly could eat chicken that day.

Believe it…or not.

Happy Halloween!