9 Jan 07

Dear Tom + Miriam


Hey Guys, how’s it going? Hopefully well. Hope you had a nice holiday season. I just experienced a very unique African experience. I just came home from visiting a witch doctor, or traditional healer, and I’m shooting myself for not having had my camera to have taken photo’s, but I’ll describe the encounter as best I can.

I was walking home from coordinating a drawing contest w/ the primary schools when I encountered Jean Baptiste Bouyen, the chief of traditional healers for my village and the surrounding area. He’s rather a gregarious guy, and I didn’t realize how far beyond 3-sheets-to-the-wind he was until after I accepted his invitation to chat at his house. Walking to his house, which wasn’t very far, he made conversation mixing about 4 languages together and I was a bit confused about his intentions. Thinking he was going to show off his Moringa trees to me, I continued gamely. Upon arriving, his Moringa trees were indeed impressive, and I may say, in better shape than mine. However, after a short mumbled conversation that had nothing to do w/ trees, I thought our visit was through…OH, HELL NO. He motioned me towards his courtyard’s back shack + waved me in. Glancing quickly inside the door, I realized that the shack was his “doctor’s office”. The shack really consisted of a chamber of about 8ft by 5ft, displayed in every available space of some kind of item consisting of either bone, horn, hair, turńe [?], skull, skin, or a combination of any of the above.

The far wall was a sacrificial alter that was littered with dolls of all sorts + rattles of different makeup, all of which were covered in feathers, animal hair + blood. Different animal masks hung here + there that were evidently used and had separate meanings, of which I knew nothing. On one wall, there were actually laminated pages that depicted excisions and circumcisions, in the drawing style of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Seriously.

As I was taking this all in, he starts mumbling and talking only in Nuni, a language of which I don’t know. Sitting, I’m flabbergasted. He then touched my knee, which I respond, at the same time of my knee jerk, I blurt “I have a husband!” in Moore. He takes his hand away and nods, sagely drunk. He then turns and picks and old red bag, tied at the top + pulls out an object about 5 inches long covered in animal skin, with white feathers at one end and at the opposite tip a piece of yarn that pierced the end w/ two red ball yarn knots, keeping the yarn in place. Next looking at his gesturing, to my crotch, I realized it was a dildo. My jaw dropped.


[After 2 weeks of suspense…I’m posting the rest, Tom.]

His gesturing continued, indicating, I think, not to cheat on my “husband”, by making gestures to his + my crotch as being a “no-go”. I was cool w/ that and I said, “No problem!” He handed me the dildo + told me to pull the yarn back + forth, which I reluctantly did. That must have meant something cause he then said “your husband”. Clueless, and embarrassed, I didn’t dare respond.

Satisfied, he’d put the dildo away in it’s sachet, thankfully, and stood up. Relieved, I stepped out in the sun again away from the museum of animals and animal parts, and thought I could make a quick break for it. He wasn’t done yet. He goes into his house, this time and gets a mask/helmet that’s made of shells, skin and porcupine quills. Attractive, but odd, he also brings out a shotgun. I then started to get nervous.

I stare at him for a second and then look quickly over my shoulder, seeing his next “client” watching everything over the wall. I look back at Jean Baptiste and he’s looking at me in a very drunken hard stare. His hat canted off to the right side slightly. A very old single barrel rifle, as I now notice, with animal skin wrapping the stock and half of the barrel, was in his hands. He continues to stare oddly, while swaying. He then says loudly, “Your camera, take a photo!”. Relieved and honestly sorry, I told him I didn’t have it, but I needed to get back to work. He nodded, I turned, said “au revoir” and walked quickly away as he began repeating loudly “Good Morning! Bye Bye!” in English.

About 50 yards away I heard the report of his gun as he shot it into the air, to signal the beginning of making magic for his clients. I made it back to the clinic and wanted to describe what happened, but realized my French would by no means convey my experience. So I decided to write it in a letter instead.

Oh, before I forget, while we were in the shack, he asked for payment for the magic dildo and he wanted some of my American chewing gum, which I didn’t have except for the piece in my mouth. I offered that, not knowing what he’d do. He seemed to contemplate the offer, but said “no”. So, I missed the chance of a life time to own an authentic African witch doctor dildo. Now who could beat that? All because I didn’t have a pack of chewing gum in my pocket. :)

Next time, I’m carrying chewing gum everywhere just to use for bartering. Who knows what I could get for a whole packet. Just kidding, do not send me gum. I’m good on gum to last a while. Well, that’s it for my story, hope you enjoyed it, despite it’s length.

Hope this finds you well. Take care.