i reject the philosophy of conformism... but to what extent can one really push their boundaries???
there was once a powerful shaman, a man way ahead of his time in the art of witchcraft. he was the envy and cause of misery of many, any who tried to cross his path were seldom heard from again. from generations past, he had always been there, the elders cringed at the simple insinuation of his name. still nothing could be done to rid the village of this evil man...
for discussions sake we shall call this shaman Bob (well the other name is really hard to pronounce, and kinda spooky so work with me..).
the new chief, who's father was eliminated by Bob, still carried a heavy heart and wished to exert his revenge on this evil man, and rid his village once and for all of this evil. so they held secret meetings, discussing how best to deal with Bob. they sent out invitations far and wide, as far as karagwe north of the tanganyika all the way to mombasa and the secret tribes of dodoma and dar...
one by one the wizards, witches, shamans, u name it would come... but also one by one would they also go back disheartened... or dead!
nothings seemed to scare Bob, infact one time the chief awoke to find all the people he had discussed with the night before completely dead... as if that were not enough, their flesh peeled right from their bones...
it scared the people... and oh did it scare the children. that day the mothers did not dare to venture from their homes...
the men, sharpened their spears and stood watch over their homes, protecting their families.
this went on for almost a month... the crop failed, a famine set in, the poor chief's village was on the brink of anarchy...
the people begged the chief to abandon his feud against Bob, they resolved they would rather pay tribute to this evil man, and leave him be so that their children could live to see another day...
and so it was... Bob was officially untouchable...
one day as the chief drunk himself silly (a new habit that caused him a lot of public ridicule)... u could say, the people were used to him now, they understood his frustrations, infact if they were also born of royal blood and didnt have to till the soil so hard, they'd be right there with him... taking that poison that makes the mind forget and wander...
a young man, came to the chief... he said, 'i can rid you of Bob'... the chief laughed out loud, and ordered the young man flogged until he got some sense into his head...
but as his guards tried to grab him, he dropped a snake on the floor that wriggled and spat fire....
one of the guards lifted his leather sandle and crushed the snake with one quick stump. the spears were now pointed at the young man.
he looked at them, and knelt before the chief and said, 'i can rid you of bob'.
the chief looked at this young man, and said, 'fine'... and what will i owe you for this charity... the young man replied, 'one thousand cowrie shells, and as much gold as i can carry'... the chief grinned and said, 'done'...
and so the plot begun..
a month later, the young man came to Bob, and humbled himself before the great shaman... he prostrated himself before him... and begged for apprenticeship...
he brought gifts of varying grotesqueness (the usual fetishes that shamans get off on... check this weeks Uganda leading daily's for bogere... that sort of thing....)
Bob was so pleased at the flattery and admiration that this young man paid to him...
all these years of receiving hate and scorn from the village he in his own twisted way so dearly loved, finally he had found one perhaps with the potential of being in his presence....
and so the apprenticeship started.. with simple tasks, the young man running errands... learning from his master...
on more than one occasion the young man was asked to dish out Bob's brand of justice on the poor people of the village... which he did with the utmost efficiency...
soon the people of the village were more afraid of the young man than they were of
Bob...
Bob would stare at the young man, and marvel at his creation... a man so callous and in touch with the occult.. it reminded him so much of his younger self.
on one of his errands the young man was ambushed by the chiefs guards... they then took him to the forest brush... where the chief himself was waiting...
the chief a clearly sad and broken man then asked... is this how you repay my kind gratitude... is this how you honour the life of my father???
the young man with a cold blank look on his face replied... 'i will rid you of Bob'..
the guards had their spears and daggers at the ready... the chief turned to the young man, and said, 'i am sorry, but i dont think i can handle having two Bob's in my village... its simply too much'.. and he ordered for the young man to be killed...
right then, the wind begun to blow, and the trees begun to sway, and a cloud of dust swept across the bush around then... it was as though the trees and plants dared to speak...
the guards dropped their weapons and ran... the chief stood his ground, dagger to the hand ready to slit the young man's throat open... as he looked around, he noticed something... something standing right beside him, something that wasnt their a heartbeat ago... Bob!
his heart beat so fast, that he couldnt master up the saliva to swallow...
and Bob told him, 'go ahead and kill him, let his blood be the atonement for ur fathers blood.... and by that, let ur children's children blood be the atonement for his'...
and so the chief dropped the knife and ran for the hills...
could it be that a friendship was in the making... soon the young man found himself spending more and more time with Bob, learning things... Bob was meaner than ever, but also quite happy...and soon started to let his guard down...
on one journey, Bob went into the bushes to ease himself (yes even shaman have to take a dump sometimes)... and he came out of the bushes and continued his journey all the way home in the village...
that night the young man sneaked out and walked for miles up until he found the bush,
he got the faeces and placed them in a banana fiber....
he then took them all the way home, and placed them right at Bob's door step...
early in the morning, Bob woke up, and as he walked out of his house, he stepped into what he at first thought to be cow droppings... but the smell was awful and the look of it!
he was infuriated... he walked into town and called for all the villagers to come out that very instant...
fear is a powerful thing, every man, woman, and children came out (so did their goats, cows and pets)...
then he asked, 'who dares to disrespect me like this!' and he held out the faeces with his bare hand... 'who dares! by sundown, the owner of this shall be dead!'...
and true to his word... at sundown the Bob was found dead...
the village gathered around to see the corpse of the greatest shaman that ever lived... evil incarnate...
he looked so peaceful...and old... many had forgotten how even before their grandparents were born he was there...
'well' the young man said... 'now i would like my payment'...
the chief was still in disbelief, 'fine'...said the chief
and the young man was paid his dues... and he then left the village.
there is no happy ending to this story, Bob was an evil man, but he also loved his village... to this day there has never been a drop of rain in what has now grown to be known as the zebu-sahara...
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