The Medicine Man

Our village was attacked on a dark night.

The attackers were cattle rustlers carrying AK47 guns, while our village warriors were armed with spears and arrows – no match. However, during night time the guns had a slight disadvantage; the bullet flares gave away the attackers position while our arrows didn’t.

We had put up a very brave fight, but when one of our warriors was hit and was moaning in pain, we decided to retreat. The attackers took that opportunity to drive away only six cattle out of two hundred, fearing that we could have taken a tactical retreat.

Upon cockcrow a village meeting was hastily called, teams were assigned duties.
In my team, we had my fierce uncle and two warriors whose role was to meet the medicine man.

The journey was long and the path slippery; but we dutifully followed the path like a snake in a riverbed. The place was known for its wild animals, but with the rain in our eyes, we couldn’t spot even one. Either that, or because even the Black god knew we were not in the mood for silly games.

After what seemed like five hours we came upon the medicine man’s village that had about twenty sleepy huts.
We found the medicine man sitting on a stool staring at the sky. He was ready for us. After a few questions to confirm the facts, he went to work. It is only the Medicine man who could speak to the God’s, he did not beg them, but he spoke sharp pointed words, some of which I had never heard before. He would then listen to the gods quietly though a hollow horn. This conversation went on for about half an hour...From the look on his eyes he had an answer.

He said that the rustlers were driven by greed and not blood (which means revenge), and that the cattle’s’ legs were tied (which meant slowed down), and that if our hearts carried no evil, we would get all of them back. With the good news, we gave our offering and poured sour goat milk in libation and headed back the way we had come in.

Two days later, my fierce Uncle would return with six cows. Two of the rustlers had appeared with our six cattle at the Dagoretti slaughterhouse at cockcrow where he had been camping. Upon being approached my uncle and two guards, one had surrendered. The other one had put up a fight in a bid to escape. My uncle killed him.

The arrested rustler was escorted to the area police post, and the police would later record that both had died out of natural causes.