Looks like Akosua have encountered another evil spirit. Now she will have to save her guest again. Where did he take the woman, what will he do with her, will Akosua be able to save her from any fate that may befall her. Come back Sunday morning to find out. Pa Pa Jumbie is waiting for you.
Henry was still asleep under the mango tree when suddenly his body became hot, like he was floating above the pits of hell. Out of the darkness he saw someone standing in front of him. Henry blinked and rubbed his eyes. The man’s face looked like it was made of iron; his green jacket had black stripes on it that made him look tall. He leaned down towards Henry, his hand hidden behind his back. Henry squinted to see if he recognized the man, but his dark face blended with the starless sky behind him. Lightening blasted, turning the night into a sheet of white. Thunder exploded and the ground shook like a violent earthquake rumbled across the island. Henry’s heart raced up as the blinding lightening flash again, followed by the ground shaking thunder. Henry tried to stand up, but he stumbled and fell hitting his back against the trunk of the mango tree. The man turned to Henry, his iron face blended in with the dark sky. He took another step towards Henry his right hand still hidden behind him. Henry cowered away, his vision blurred from the moving earth. Suddenly the man lifted his arm above his head; he was holding a machete,
“Gren mwe fret” he screamed in a nasal voice. The machete’s sharp edge glittered in the lightening flash. Henry screamed, as the man brought the machete down. Henry grabbed his arm, his skin felt like iron and he heard the pops and cracks as his fingers began to give out under the weight of the man. Suddenly he was sitting up looking up at the star filled sky.
Henry looked around; he was lying on the ground next to the mango tree. He checked his body to make sure all his parts was still where they should be. He tried to stand up, but his legs buckled under him and he hit the ground with a sickening thud. He lay there, as a mixture of hot and cold rushed through him. He shook violently, his joints felt as if they were being ripped from his body. Suddenly Adofo stood looking down at him.
“Are you O K?” he asked. Henry tried to talk but his tongue felt like it was glued to the bottom of his mouth. Adofo tried to help him up, but he stumbled and Adofo caught him just before he hit the ground.
Adofo took Henry through the village; some of the children followed them. Henry mumbled as Adofo led him into a hut on the other side of the village. Adofo sat him down in a chair next to a table, and then disappeared into another room. Henry looked around the room, but his vision was like looking through a glass bottle. His head throbbed; it was as if the drummers were sitting at the base of his skull ponding their drums. Adofo returned with a bowl made from a coconut shell and handed it to Henry. He looked at it for a second then took a drink, it was bitter and he coughed a little. Adofo sat in a chair on the other side of the table. His dreadlocks moved a little and yellow light escaped through it.
“What happened to you, you look like you saw a ghost when I found you,” he said, Henry swallowed before he spoke,
“Just a bad nightmare,” he said then described the dream to Adofo. The villagers stood at the door peeping in.
“That was the spirit Ogoun the warrior Loa. He loves the noise of battle and helps people gain political power. He revels in uttering vulgar phases that don’t make any sense, but such is the ways of his crude nature. Some say they have seen him cut himself with his machete, but there is never any blood or wounds on his body. Why would he be in your dreams?” Adofo said and looked at Henry.
“Indeed, why would he be in my dream?” Henry echoed Adofo sat back in his chair.
“It must be some kind of warning. The Ligaroo King and his followers are sensing that we plan to rescue our people so they are trying to scare us away.” He said, stood up and walked to the doorway and rubbed the head of a boy peeping in.
The Wounded warrior moaned and they looked down at him. He had a deep cut on his arm, blood flowed out of it and he winched in pain as he went in and out of consciousness. Akosua ripped a piece of her dress off and tied it around the boy’s arm. The white material quickly turned red, but it stopped some of the bleeding. Amelia was not satisfied. She turned to Adofo and told him to put pressure on the wound then turned and went into the jungle. She reappeared with a fistful of leaves and applied it to the wound then retied it.
“That should help stop infection,” she said and stood up. Suddenly there was a blast of thunder. Lighting struck the spot where the Arawak lay, and when the smoke dissipated his body was gone. They braced themselves, as ear splitting laughter filled the jungle. Behind them bushes parted and a figure emerged. His whole body was covered with red armor that was made of iron. He held a machete in his right hand, weapons of all kinds hung from him and they clanged whenever he moved. He stopped in front of them and started doing a strange tribal dance. His weapons clinked in time with every move he made. Akosua and the warriors stood, their machetes held over their heads. Suddenly he rushed at them swinging his machete so fast it was a blur.
“Ogoun,” Henry said, Ogoun stopped in front of them.
“Don’t you just love the sound of a good battle,” he said, then threw his head back and laughed.
“If I had my way I would destroy you right now, but Baron Samedi instructed that I leave you to him. Go to Jumbie Island, have your battle with the Ligaroo King, oh what a battle it will be, good against evil, the angelic Obeah woman against the monster blood suckers.” He said as he moved swinging his machete as if doing a choreographed battle dance.
“You don’t care who wins do you? We are just pawns. You will use any means to satisfy your lust for war.” She said, Orgoun swung his machete again and laughed,
“You silly little girl, there will always be someone to possess. You humans are weak, that’s why you are mortal and we the Loas are immortal, we can manipulate you. Look around you, you enslave each other, you destroy whole tribes. Who do you think is controlling all of this, you mortals? Now go home and play with dolls and stop pretending to be a spiritual leader.” He shouted. Birds flew into the air, hoofs of frightened animals pounded on the jungle floor. Thunder blasted and lightening flashed.