When Baba Mdletshe and I arrived, the villagers were crowded around Mkhulu on the hillside, with KaZwide on the ground at his side. They made way for us and I knelt at my grandfather’s head and touched his face.

“Mkhulu … Wake up … Please, wake up,” I said. He was still shivering and now his swollen tongue was sticking out like that of a dead animal and he was struggling to breath. A man from the crowd suggested someone put a spoon in his mouth just so he would not hurt himself or bite his tongue. We were far from the huts, so KaZwide took a stick and wedged it between Mkhulu’s teeth. He stopped shaking after that and we were all happy, hoping the stick would help and he would get better and wake up.

“I never thought I’d feel so lonely without you, Mkhulu. Promise me you won’t die,” I was crying and losing my strength. I knew as I watched Baba Mdletshe struggle to loosen Mkhulu’s stiff arms that whatever had happened to Mkhulu, his life was over and that what we were witnessing was his spirit slowly slipping away to be with our ancestors.

“Please wake up – don’t just lie there. You were the one who told me countless times never to give up in life, but now you refuse to wake up.” I was groaning and shouting at Mkhulu and KaZwide put a hand on my shoulder.

“Nkanyezi mzukulu sekwanele” (Grandson, that’s enough), she said calmly. “Let’s give Baba Mdletshe some space, people. He won’t be able to work his magic while we are all here, standing on top of him.”

Baba Mdletshe was chanting Zulu proverbs while burning incense and spreading his bones and snail shells on the ground next to Mkhulu for clarity. All of a sudden he started pointing at one of his snail shells and roared: “Tell me what happened! … But … How could you? Aren’t you suppose to protect and guide him? It’s not natural! No … What is it?”

The crowd was dead quiet and I watched in horror as Baba Mdletshe started moaning, first softly and then louder and louder.

“This was done by a woman’s hand,” he said, his eyes closed. The people on the hillside were whispering to each other.

“Which woman? Tell us, Baba,” my mother cried out. “Who is behind this evil plot against my father and my child’s grandfather?”

“Yebo, Bab’ Mdletshe, tell us the name of this devil,” said KaZwide. Her face was like stone and I knew the force of my grandmother’s anger was growing like a howling storm.

***

Tell us: Which woman do you think Bab’ Mdletshe is talking of?