Mondli glances at the back seat as he weaves the Mercedes-Benz SUV in and out of traffic.

“Don’t worry, Baba,” he says. “We are African. We must never forget that! Western medicine can’t heal everything.”

Scelo is in the back seat with his grandfather, who winces in pain every time they hit a bump on the road.

“Slow down, Mondli,” says Mr Msomi.

“Dad, please slow down,” says Scelo. “Mkhulu is in pain!”

“I thought as much,” Mondli says and nods in vindication. “This proves my point! These pills and drips are poison! Baba has been hospital for a week but his health has deteriorated. Just look how much weight he has lost! Mbambo will sort you out, Baba. He has never failed us. Do you remember the time he helped uncle Bongani?”

Mr Msomi nods slightly. He can feel the pain killers Dr Mdluli prescribed coursing through his veins. Mondli has found him and Scelo in the rear view mirror.

Scelo is watching his grandfather with concern. His grandfather is getting weaker by the minute since they left the hospital. His body sways with every bend on the road – Scelo has to put a supporting arm around him.

“Mkhulu is weak, Dad,” says Scelo. “I don’t think taking him out of the hospital was a good idea.”

“I can see that he is getting weaker, Scelo. But taking him out of the hospital is a good idea. Mbambo is the best. He healed uncle Bongani after doctors and their drips and pills had failed. Uncle Bongani suffered hiccups non-stop for a whole month! We decided to take him out of the hospital to see Mbambo. The hiccups were gone after just five minutes with Mbambo!”

Scelo can’t comprehend a word his father is saying. He is too concerned about his grandfather.

“You see, Scelo, our problem is that we don’t value our traditional medicine enough!” Mondli adds. “That’s why society is full of all these ills. We have forsaken our–”

“Stop the car, Dad!” screams Scelo. “Mkhulu is vomiting!”

Mondli hits the brakes. Frail Mr Msomi vomits until he is out of breath. It is heart-wrenching to see. They get back in the car and continue with their journey to see Mbambo, the traditional healer.

Mbambo attends to them quickly. He throws his bones in front of the three generations of Msomi men. Folds form on his brow.

“What is it, Mbambo?” says Mondli.

Mbambo shakes his head, perplexed.

“My bones say you father’s grandmother is very angry,” says Mbambo.

Mr Msomi trembles as he strains to look up at Mbambo.

“She loved your father. She used to look after him when he was young,” says Mbambo. “She is the one who sent all this wealth to your father after she passed away. She has been his guardian angel all his life.”

A tear forms at the corner of Mr Msomi’s right eye as he nods in agreement with Mbambo.

“She is angry that despite all these blessings, your father has never once thanked her. Your father is sick now because of that!” says Mbambo.

Mbambo casts his gaze away from the bones, back to the Msomi men.

“So what do we do to remedy this situation?” asks Mondli.

Mbambo picks up his bones, shakes them, blows into them and throws them in front of the Msomi men again. He studies them for a while. He is the picture of concentration as he reads the bones. But that quickly turns into a smile.

“She does not ask for much,” says Mbambo. “You just need to slaughter a cow, burn incense and tell her you are sorry. You also need to clean her tombstone.”

Mondli nods.

“I will give you muthi as well. You father will need to burn this muthi every morning until it is finished. He must put it in a pot, let it burn and inhale the fumes,” says Mbambo.

“And Baba will be healed?”

“Yes, your father will be healed,” says Mbambo.

It is quiet in the car as they drive back from Mbambo’s house. Mr Msomi has dozed off. Scelo is on a call. Mondli grows suspicious because Scelo is using only one word answers and a low voice. Scelo realizes that his father is looking at him in the rear view mirror. He quickly ends the call.

“Who was that on the phone?” Mondli inquires. “Was that your Aunt Zinhle?”

“Yes, Dad. It was Aunt Zinhle.”

“I don’t want you speaking to her. Do you hear me?”

“I can’t do that, Dad. She is my aunt!” says Scelo.

“She is your aunt but she is evil!” says Mondli.

Mondli’s voice is loud. It jolts Mr Msomi from his peaceful sleep.

“Do you know that she killed your grandmother?” says Mondli, his face turned to Scelo in the back seat.

“Come on, Dad. Not this nonsense again,” says Scelo.

“She did! Together with her church and her pastor! They killed mother!”

“Stop it Mondli!” says Mr Msomi.

Mondli grows angry: “Yes she did! We need to stop sugar-coating it, Baba. Zinhle and her pastor told Ma to stop taking her diabetes medication because she had been saved by the blood of Jesus! That very same pastor who calls our ancestors demons!”

“Just stop it Mondli!” Mr Msomi shouts. He breaks into a cough that leaves him breathless.

“Are you alright, Baba?” says Mondli.

“No! I just wish to see the ocean and clear my mind,” says Mr Msomi.

“Which beach do you want to go to?” asks Mondli.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Mondli. I don’t want you to infect me with your anger on top of the cancer, diabetes and heart failure. Leave us in Zimbali.”

“But we need to talk about what Mbambo said, Baba. We need to organize for the ceremony as soon as possible,” says Mondli.

Mr Msomi stares at Mondli with a look of parental authority. “I said leave us in Zimbali!” he says, his lips trembling with rage.

 ***

Tell us what you think: Can an ancestor’s guardianship make you wealthy? Can ‘being saved by the blood of Jesus’ cure you from disease?