The Scent of Evil

Nwana told his story to the white man with large, sad eyes. As the boy spoke, Gary was amazed at how clearly and articulately the boy was able to relate his tale.

It had been just an ordinary Sunday, like any other. Nwana went to the new Pentecostal church with his father. It had opened a few months earlier and this had only been their second visit but Nwana was nervous. Last time, the pastor had called on the congregation to beware of witches and wizards. He said he could smell the evil amongst them. Nwana was afraid; he knew witches and wizards were very wicked. He heard people in his village tell of how witches caused every evil from diseases like cancer and HIV to accidents and even infertility! Nwana was terrified of meeting a witch.

The church was crowded and smelled strongly of sweat. There were so many people in the room that the boy was afraid he would be crushed. The congregation had foul smelling oil put on their foreheads in the sign of the cross at the beginning of the service. Nwana cringed as the pastor bent to mark his brow with a rancid smear. Later, the pastor moved among his flock using healing hands on some and berating others for their sins. The pastor had stopped and spoken to Nwana’s father asking him where his wife was. When Nwana’s father explained that she was dead, the pastor screamed that a witch had cast a spell upon the family. Nwana was petrified, the witch must be someone they knew!

“There!” screamed the pastor, pointing at Nwana, “There is the cause of all your sorrow. That boy is a witch! He has cursed your family!”

Nwana’s father had taken the boy straight home before the service ended. Nwana thought that was because his father was angry at the pastor. He was sure his father knew that the pastor had been wrong but he was still very confused. He knew he wasn’t a witch, he was a good boy. He always did whatever his father told him and he had loved his mother very much.

Nwana wandered in front of his house, feeling upset but glad to be home. He hardly felt the sharp blow that knocked him to the floor. He was vaguely aware of something wet being poured over his head and a very strange chemical smell. Then a hot, burning pain like nothing he had ever felt before. He tried to cover his face but it was no use, all he could do was keep his lips tightly closed, although his throat ached to scream. The last thing that Nwana remembered was that the nasty smell had disappeared just before he lost consciousness.

Gary thanked Nwana and told him that as soon as he left the hospital there would be a place waiting for him at the Stepping Stones Model School. He told him about the other children who were waiting to play with him, about the school and the farm and about the fun he would have in the playground. Nwana said he would get well soon, as he longed to go to the school all the doctors had told him about.

As they moved away from Nwana’s bed the doctor explained to Gary how the boy had been found abandoned by the roadside. A kindly passer by had brought the boy to the hospital, where the doctors had been stunned that the boy was not only still alive but conscious and able to speak. He had told them how his father had poured acid over his face and tried to pour it into his mouth. The next thing he remembered was lying by the road; he had been there for several days before someone stopped to help him.

When they examined him, doctors found that because of the attack he was completely blind; his eyelids had been eaten away by the acid. The skin on his head and face were very badly damaged. His nose was completely gone, burned right down to the nasal cavity. His lips were reasonably intact as he had forced them together during his ordeal. Thanks to this he had been able not only to identify himself but to explain what had happened and which pastor had incited the assault upon him.

As Gary drove away he felt like crying. The doctors had said that they didn’t expect Nwana to survive the week. The 9 year old boy who had been so innocent and brave would die in agony because a so called man of God denounced him as a witch. There was evil in this but it hadn’t been in the boy. Gary remembered Nwana’s last words to him,

“I believe in God and God knows I am not a witch."