Kenya is a land of mystery, a mosaic of tribal culture and traditions that have defied scientific explanation for centuries. Their medicine and magic, their fears and taboos have been handed down from generation to generation.
But not all of them are benign, as an Indian who lived in Kenya around 25 years ago found out to his dismay.
Raju found his true love in Mombasa. He and his bride settled down and spent two blissful years but then, without any warning, things started to go wrong.
At first, the incidents were small and they ignored them, finding rational excuses. Looking back, they are not quite sure why things like papers or keys should disappear and then turn up in the dustbin. At most it was inconvenient; car keys would turn up again on a windowsill a few days after they had had new ones cut.
But then things changed and the incidents became more destructive. They would wake up in the morning to find a wristwatch smashed where it lay on the bedside table. The toothpaste would be squeezed out of the tube into the basin and toothbrushes were found with their heads twisted over.
Raju and his wife eventually had to sit up and take notice. These were no longer things they could blame on forgetfulness.
Things got more serious. One time, the takings from the shop were missing. They found the money torn up into tiny pieces, scattered outside.
Raju’s mother, who lived with them, was on medication. Her tablets disappeared and, remembering the money, Raju went to check outside. Sure enough, there were the tablets, strewn along the ground.
It was with mounting fear that they realised there was actually a pattern emerging and within a few weeks, the frequency of the incidents had increased until something was happening every day.
Perhaps inevitably, they began to blame the incidents on a poltergeist and reluctantly admitted that he seemed to have a mischievous sense of humour. They were to rue their words.
They would find sand in their food, even though the beach was nine miles away and another time would be unable to eat their food because it had too much salt in it. It became unnerving to walk into the house, wondering what they would find.
In the end, they moved into an uncle’s house. There at least, they felt they would be safe.
But it was not to be. The poltergeist followed. Raju would open the fridge and find a neat bite taken out of the food.
But the next phase terrified Raju’s young wife, Sita. She opened her wardrobe and found her clothes had been shredded; not just torn or holed, but shredded into long, thin ribbons.
The word ‘curse’ had sprung into everyone’s mind; no one could even say it out loud, so terrifying was the thought
She hoped that the poltergeist had just picked on her cupboard by chance but, with a sinking heart, the family realised that she had become the spirit’s target. One day, the women were sorting out a pile of ironing and found that several garments had been ripped. Only Sita’s had been touched.
The relentless pace of the attacks was beginning to take its toll on them. They did not feel it was fair to inflict their problem onto their uncle if there was no respite to be had at his home. Sinking into a bleak helplessness, they moved back to their own home.
Trying to outwit the spirit became a desperate game. They put Sita’s clothes into a large trunk with some other clothes and locked it. When they opened it up again, only her clothes had been ripped. They realised with a sinking feeling that they had almost fooled the spirit. They had purposely put in some slippers belonging to Raju’s mother that were very similar in style. The spirit had taken a few nips at them before realising that it was being tricked. Sita’s were ripped to shreds.
The attention became even more focused and it was no longer only her belongings that were being threatened. She would wake up and realise with a shudder that her earring hoops had been squeezed out of shape. The spirit became more bold. She would feel a strange sensation as she was eating and look down to realise that her clothes had been frayed where she sat.
She became obsessed with the idea that she had brought the spirit into the home with her. It was hard to reason with her, to point out that they had been in the house for two years without any incident...
She and Raju flew to her family home in Zanzibar. It was so reassuring to talk to her parents who scoffed at the stories. Surely everything would be all right, so far away?
But even her sceptical parents shuddered when they saw her clothes hanging on the washing-line, ripped to shreds.
It was no use. She was convinced that the spirit was jealous of her marriage and felt that it might have moved with them only because Raju had accompanied her. She would get no peace until he went away from her.
Raju was not terribly keen on the idea but he flew back to Mombasa and waited anxiously for the phone call that would reassure him that Sita had somehow broken the spell.
There had not been any attack that day. Could Sita be right?
Day followed uneventful day and still Sita was spared. The tension which weighed her down seeped slowly away with each tick of the clock. But she could not hide indefinitely, far from her husband.
The word ‘curse’ had sprung into everyone’s mind; no one could even say it out loud, so terrifying was the thought.
To be continued next week
This is the 44th in a series of short stories The Sunday Times of Malta is running every Sunday. It is taken from The Unexplained Plus (Allied Publications) by Vanessa Macdonald. The first edition was published in 2001 and reprinted twice. It was republished, with added stories, as The Unexplained Plus. The Maltese version of the book, Ta’ Barra Minn Hawn (Klabb Kotba Maltin), is available from all leading bookstores and stationers and from www.bdlbooks.com.