Witchcraft. Burning at the stake. Accusing those who live amongst us, the devote, the faithful, the opinionated. This happens not in Salem many decades ago but in Africa, present day. In a village that is coming into its own, divided by poverty and educational level. A village where wealth is measured by wives and cattle. A village where men sneak and creep in the middle of a dark cool crisp night, waiting, watching, seizing the moment to strike at the hearts of the weak. The hearts of the witches. Machetes in hand, torches in the other, bare feet moving as silently as crickets along the uneven earth approaching ever closer to the wicked. Those possessed by the demons of beyond this world, demons that kill the crops, disease the cows and infest the wombs of the women. Demons which allure the young to drink, and the women to be loose. Demons which use temptations of the flesh to swoon and woo, only then to enter the body in the shape of a virus, that destroys the immune system, that weakens the already famished. The men sneak and come in the night to stop the spread of demons as if they themselves are the cleansers of the community. Witchcraft. Must be stopped. Must be ended.
A man in the crowd wonders aloud, “Is this really witchcraft?” His voice barely a decibel above a whisper, yet the men in the crowd with machetes in hand and torches in the other all hear over the patter of their feet on the earth. A whisper that brings a halt to the precession of demise, a whisper that brings the man to his death, a blow so swift and sharp, his lips still in the form of a whisper. Deaths for asking a simple question most were thinking. This is a mob on a mission to cleanse their community of a demon that has spread its arms to embrace the weak, the elders, the unborn and the mothers. A demon that knows no boundary, that seeps into the marrow of the living who helplessly watch all around them meet the darkness. This is a mob that has lost itself to a demon that the rest of the world is still fighting. This demon has no cure. This demon loves to thrive on the vulnerable. This demon has friends who embark on the infestation before he comes calling. His friends are violent and stealth, not always showing there faces, hiding in the dark, while the demon sets himself up nicely to invade. The demon and his friends have travelled the world over. Yet, find a nice home in Africa, where their fruits are plenty. When will this witchcraft and witch hunt finally come to an end?