A Sangoma can be a witch at the same time Pt 2

I decided to target his evening meal all the time. I put the concoction into his food especially into his relish. I did it non-stop for two weeks, then another week, then another week. What I realized is that his face was peeling! He complained about not feeling well. I went to the "herb aunt" and told him that he did not go to work as he was not well. We laughed and she told me to continue but with another medication she gave me. I did that as told, it was the evening meal always that had concoction in it. I realized that my hubby came home at 5:30 all the time as he complained that he was not well. Him not feeling well was because the medication was working I thought.

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Centrally locked hubby battling for dear life: by Mercyline Hunye and Mirirai Nsingo, 27 March 2015

A MBARE man's manhood has become dysfunctional after he was 'centrally locked' by his wife to stop him from bedding his second wife. Elizabeth Marwizi, 23, yesterday confessed to using charms on her husband - Wisdom Mapfumo, 31, - so that his manhood only works on her and not on co-wife Shylet Uripa, 16, or other women. Elizabeth said she could not stand seeing Wisdom being intimate with Shylet hence sought the charm from one Madzimai Enguwo Tsvuku to 'fix' him...

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It has worked at long last. He was my husband again. He never quarreled with me as he went to the bedroom to sleep. I went to tell "herb aunt" about developments. We laughed again she asked if I could make some payments, I gave her $100 dollars I had saved thriftily from my kitchen budget. She had demanded only $50 but because the results were so evident I was over exited and doubled the remuneration.  I was her best client and she my best "herb aunt." My hubby took a leave to stay at home to recover from the illness he thought he was developing. I, on the other hand, I thought that that was the treatment going well. He was now more at home than with his friends. He could hardly talk well. He was slow in everything, even just standing up he needed some assistance.

There were no conjugal moments in our bedroom. I did not mind this at all. Sex has never saved me ever since I stayed with him. I even wished it could remain like forever. We would discuss sex intercourse with my friends but I have never risen up to the wish of wanting to know more. I had my two children who were challenging me and a weak hubby. It never occurred to me for once that I could have poisoned him slowly. My hubby was given another sick leave for six months. I was worried, seriously worried.  I asked myself one question, if he died what would happen to the small children and me. He went to Mpilo and he was admitted. I went to see him at the ward. I was told that there was not trace of any illness.

He was discharged and he stayed at home. He was no longer the talking man and hubby I knew but some person who were degenerating slowly and surely. I decided to myself that I would never give him any other concoction. I even  threw the medication away. I was sure something went wrong in the dosage I must have effected for him to peel like a snake. He was pale showing signs that he was really taking the illness in. He told me one day that he was going to see a n'anga since the hospital did not assist much.  My God I was worried, I sweated, my heart bit, I was nervous. I thought I was going to be caught if he went to ask a n'anga about his illness.

The n'anga was going to tell him that "your wife is poisoning you" I feared this to the point of paranoia. I went to see the "herb aunt" and told him that my hubby wants to see some n'anga and I was worried. She told me that I should recommend her to him, he would go to see the herb aunt. I was shaking when I told him that there could be some n'anga at Makhokhoba who would assist. Without thinking much, my husband told me to show her the n'anga. I told him I would only show him the place but I would not come inside as I had children to look after. He agreed. My husband told the "herb aunt" that he is not well at all, the whole body is aching, he sweats at night, did not have any appetite for sex. But he is worried because he is weak. He needed to be strong again to go back to work. He may lose his job and the family would be without a provider. 

The clever aunt had to use "bones" (watshaya amathambo) to establish the cause of his illness. She told him that at his workplace there were people who were not happy with him, they were jealous of him and his family, everything is going well with him at home. The problem was the workplace. He needed some charm to wear to protect him from evil people who are jealous of him. (All was just stuff and nonsense) To get a charm to protect him was a very expensive thing to do as he needed $500 to have it. He paid it without thinking, he was desperate for it.  After getting it, he thought he could go back to work, he felt better somehow and indeed he was working again. It was hardly two months back to work, my hubby collapsed at work and was taken to Mpilo straight on an emergency ambulance.

He developed a kidney failure and there were traces of mercury in his blood. In no time he was put into the ICU on a life-support machine. I was at home when the hospital police came to tell me about the news of my hubby. I cried. I was guilty a bit but managed to tell myself that it had nothing to do with the "love potions" I had given him. When I arrived at the hospital he could hardly recognize me. He could not speak. His kidneys had collapsed because of mercury levels in his blood. I cried to see such a sorry sight, my own hubby! What was I going to do, alone with two toddlers, no education, not in employment? I had nothing to my name but those children whose father was dying. It was obvious that we were not emotionally connected.

I could not bring myself to hold his hand to assist him emotionally. I did not know his relatives much, we were cut off from both parents and relatives. I regretted the day I went to see that herb aunt and wept bitterly at the thought of it. I wondered for once that I seem to be convoluted with a life of regrets. I regretted the day I had to leave secondary school because I was pregnant, now I regretted I ever listened to advice that was evidently taking my hubby to the grave and leaving me destitute with two children. Is there anything worse than what I was going through? I went to visit him almost every day. I would stand not very near him, out of fear and guilt. He never spoke to me. He was showing all the signs that he was dying slowly. It was the most painful thing to see and experience.

I went to his working place to get some money so that I can pay the bills and the upkeep. I depended on my friends in looking after the kids if I was at the hospital. I was changing nappies to my first baby when a policeman from Mpilo hospital knocked at my door and told me the news; my husband is dead. I had expected it and also the guilt did not allow me to cry like a mad woman, the outpouring of emotions. I managed to finish the work I was doing, changing nappies to my two babies and I went to my next door neighbor and told her my husband has died, only then did I find the courage to scream aloud. It is the neighbors that spread the news and came to my home and did what is done if there was a funeral at home.  They pulled down the curtains in all rooms in our house and put a red cloth at the window, a sign of mourning.

I had seen this in my neighborhood; it was now done in my home and real. What it was going to mean to me psychologically, I had no idea. I was in a trance, taken aback by events that were so strange for a person of my age to be a "widow" at twenty two years old. When my hubby died, my parents came, his parents came. All his other relatives in town managed to put a funeral together and the first phase of trauma was over. I noticed one thing that struck me to the core; all the husbands of my friends were present, carrying the coffin of my hubby, and they all looked healthy and showing no signs that they were ill. I knew then that I had gotten ill-advice from my friends, while we talked in unison about herbs and "feeding" our husbands with herbs so that they love us more and "stay soft," my friends did not practice it.

They knew the hazardous aspect of such poisonous concoctions and what they can do to humans. One must be a witch to do that to a husband even if there were problems in the relationship, our problems where serious ones. It is nowhere an answer to destroy one's life in this manner, cruelty at best, barbarism but last.  So with my friends it means and it seems it was all left in the talking and they did not poison their husbands. It was me the fool that did it, literally poisoning my husband to death with "herbs" from an illicit n'anga, the "herb aunt" we called her, a twisted old woman who knew just one thing, making money.

 My first born was four years and the second three.  But it was the guilt in me that made me not engage with either party during that mourning period. My emotional outpouring was more to do with guilt than grief. His death was explained as kidney failure and it ended there, nobody thought beyond that, that he could have had some food poisoning of some kind, given to him by a desperate young wife. That is how I escaped from it all! It was my youthfulness that made the escape possible. I was perceived too young to have done that even if it was suspected to have been given some medication, some love potions. I am wholly sure if it was suspected, they would still have said he got the "herbs" from one of his numerous girlfriends.

I was sure I killed him with the herbs from the "herb aunt." I do not know how I carried myself during the whole procession of the funeral and finally saying goodbye to him! My guilt that was defined in my body language could have been interpreted as part of the mourning I was going through, the tears pouring uncontrolled. Again was it the emotional absence in this relationship that just let go?  It is nature of his death that I feel separated and distanced from him but not my connection to him as a hubby and father to my two children because our relationship had established its presence in my life.  But I prayed to God in silence because guilt was heavy in my heart. I needed to tell someone I trusted most. Humans let me down when I listened to them in my uttermost desperation, giving me deadly advice.

God was my rock of ages, cleft for me, I would hide myself in Him. I never knelt down but talked to Him in my heart in heavy silence that said it all: because when you are in emotional dire straits you do not perform such gestures as kneeling down and opening a prayer book and read and you say you are talking to God, no, you don't do that. Prayer comes and flows in your head and you let it spoken in your heart eloquently.

You conjure God to be near you, feel his presence as you talk to him. He becomes the only friend you have and you can trust, not humans! Was it not my parents who showed me the door? They discarded me and I fell into a relationship wholly immature, physically and emotionally. I messed up because I did not know, ignorance of a child, there was little or no guidance that led, all processes leading me to commit murder at last and also not knowing, I cannot commit suicide because I have two children who have nobody in this world but me. I sink again in silence and talk to God,


God I have sinned against you and against your creation, the father to my children
I would never rid myself from this sin I know I have committed
I ask you to enter into my heart and help
It was wholly my ignorance and lack of good guidance to do what I did to him
Have mercy on me my dear Lord
You are merciful and kind, please be kind to me now
My heart is tormented
I am guilty in your eyes and it is only you who can remove this pain of guilt
I do not know any other sin as worse as the one I have committed
Remove the heavy burden of guilt I have to carry
Until the last breathe of my dying day

 His relationship with his parents was as bad as mine. I had no other alternative either than to go back to my parents and stay with them. They had relocated to Ntabayezinduna where they had built a bigger house for themselves. It was literally going back to square one, but it was me and two more mouths to feed. Whatever punishment they wanted to mete out with me did not help as the situation got worse. My parents had three responsibilities in their home, whose ages were twenty two, four and three variably wanting basic existence, shelter, food and clothing.

My mother took over the responsibility for the grandchildren. I decided to carve a new life by looking for a job. I was a form three dropout, but I could teach at a primary school in any of the rural areas. I got the job, as luck would have it. That was 1974, I got a job in the Nkayi District, deep in the former tribal trust lands, an Anglican School. I started working and at the same time I started corresponding for my ‘O' Levels. I knew I was not stupid at all. I passed as I was alone in this rural school, having left my kids with my mother at our rural home. I sent more than half of my pay to my mother for the upkeep of the children. I was found wanting to showcase some effort and show them that not all was lost with me. I decided to go for ‘A'-Levels correspondence.

I passed that too. It was 1980, Zimbabwe had become independent. I was one of the first intakes of students after independence at the University of Zimbabwe. We are the students that removed the name University of Rhodesia to University of Zimbabwe and I studied political science. I could not contain my happiness when I entered the university, I had considered myself to be a social write-off long back. I had envied students at Luveve Secondary School during my pregnancy days to the extent of hiding if I saw them hanging around at supermarkets, what we used to do as students.

Now, here I was at the highest institute of learning. In the meantime, my kids were growing up under the care of my parents who had forgiven me ten-fold, it appeared as if they were guilty about the level punishment they gave me. On the other hand, I was guilty of killing my husband. It was guilt in this home crossing the purposes. I never engaged in any relationship with men the entire time I left Ntabayezinduna to teach and, when I was at the university, men had become redundant somehow in my life. It was skin-deep in me how men can destroy young women just for a quickie that a woman would not even have enjoyed in the process of love-making. I know and I can say it with equal truth that it's not all women who enjoy a twosome love relationship with their boyfriends and husbands in my society.

 I can evidence this with my marriage that lasted four full years and I have never been part of the entire sexual acts we had, all forced. To put it correctly, I was raped for four years. I concentrated on my education only. If I had a break, I would go home and visit my parents and my kids.  My life was traumatic enough to make a repeat of my mistakes. Ahead of me was the future with my kids, but shrouded with permanent guilt I could never ever manage to take away no matter how much I prayed. My guilt follows me constantly and faithfully.

The thought again made me collapse in me and I cried and sang to alleviate pain in my heart. I sang in both languages, isiNdebele and Chishona thinking perhaps it may be that He, God, can listen better in both languages, my cluelessness and my utter desperation. I try to tell myself that it could be that God did not protect me when I was at school. Not true at all, I would think about the day my parents sat down with me and warned me about the dangers ahead, and again there were girls who told me about the visits they made in the young men's places that resulted in sex advances. My parents said: daughter, please look after yourself, because if you don't,

[Father: You know what my Daughter, you must look after yourself well. Men can cheat you and try to engage you sexually before marriage. You must be careful with them. You know what they would do? They would take you for a walk, after the walk ask you to come with them to a room, some private room, make tea that you would have together, play music, tell you to dance to the music with him, and then suddenly without realizing it much, would throw you in his bed and make you have sex with him. If that happens, you would bring shame to yourself, to the family, to the clan and the society you live in as a whole. Please be careful about this all the time!
Daughter: Really Father! Now let me tell you what happened to me Father. I took a man for a walk, after the walk I  took him to a room, a private room, I made tea that we had together, played music, I  made him to dance with me  to the music and suddenly without realizing it much I pushed him to this bed,  induced  him  to have sex with me. But let me tell you one thing Father, this brought shame to him, his family, his clan and the entire society he lived in! Men are just too careful about my ability to lie them down for the purpose of sex all the time.] - An oral folktale carrying a message

I was just light hearted and I failed myself, I failed myself, it was the punishment that was heavy, is still there until I close my eyes in death, then I would stop crying.  A sweet mother, far from it, I am a mother who killed the father of my two children. Could it be the sweetness of it perhaps? It is no longer clear anymore what a sweet mother is. Where is the demarcation line between sweetness of a mother and her becoming not sweet?

In the meantime God never forgave me I thought. I know this because I do have a heavy heart regarding the sin I committed I cannot contend it. I gave up all to the Lord and in his mercy and kindness he gave me the strength just to move on. Move on! The road is hard. I do sometimes manage to live above my sins and sometimes the sin would visit me and tell me that I am guilty, guilty of the man I killed out of ignorance. Again, I would then sing this song to quell my guilt, guilt that I would carry till death:

My god and Father while I stray
Far from my home in life's rough way
Oh teach me from my heart to say
Thy would be done (2X
Though my path and sad my lot
Let me be still and murmur no
Or breathe the prayer divinely taught
Thy would be done (2X
But if my fainting heart be blessed
With the Holy Spirit for its guests
My God! To Thee I leave the rest
Thy would be done (2X

When I sing this song it tames my emotions of guilt and gives me some hope that God would give me the peace I deserve in this life and the other one to come. I am indeed a tormented person, I live and sleep with it and when I wake up in the morning I ask myself if he deserved that what I did to him, the father of my children. He was rough, he was cruel, he raped me on several occasions. I can say with equal truth that my second child was a result of a rape but all the same he did not deserve to die that painful death I witnessed.

With the emotional assistance of my parents, I managed to do well at the university and I got a good job and am now reunited with my children. I look at them and I wonder what are they going to do if they are told I killed their father? They would never know, who is going to tell them? I indeed escaped this case by accusation, even suspicion, but not the guilt. My guilt is as fresh as yesterday. I would continue to mourn my sin until I close my eyes and never cry again. My ability to pick up my emotional self and get myself some stubborn strength to move on, give my children a decent future would be symbols of a grown up womanhood.