The ascent and the purification ritual (Part 3)

They had walked for almost four hours. Now they were in the indigenous village. They did not meet anybody, nor did they see any inhabitant. The hutts were very poorly built, which did not reassure José Luis. The sun was setting behind them. It created an orange light that reflected on the pale grey mountain side. The vegetation was here almost absent. However, the view from where they were was incredible. They could see some lakes between the two mountains. The ascent had exhausted the three travellers. Only the guide seemed not to be tired. He had been walking ahead and had often taken pauses so that the others could follow him.

Zuberi Diallo, Sato, José Luis and the guide were sitting on the edge of a cliff. The guide had told everyone they must not talk during the first part of their journey in Las Huaringas. Silence would oblige them to introspect and think about their wounds. However, José Luis could not stand a second more of this silence. He looked at Sato and he too seemed somewhat nervous. On the contrary, the African man remained calm and seemed to trust completely the guide. The guide noticed that José Luis did not feel comfortable in this silence. He asked him, “Why are you nervous? Why do you look for healing in Las Huaringas?”

“I. . . I came here because. . . Ah! I don’t want to talk about it,” José Luis said.

“Trust me. Tell us what makes you suffer. You will feel relieved after.”

José Luis inhaled deeply and put his face in his hands. “I had met a girl and we had become lovers. We were living perfect happiness. Well, I thought we were until that night. I saw her kiss another man. I couldn’t. . . I couldn’t. . . I needed to go away!”

“I see,” the guide said.

Then, the silence came back, but the atmosphere changed in the group. This confession made disappear some nervousness.

An hour later, they were still on the edge of the cliff and the sun was set. However, they could see everything, for a million stars were shining in the sky. They were far away from any source of artificial light that would hide the shining stars.

Suddenly, a woman with coal-black hair in braids appeared. She were holding three cups filled with a warm infusion. She gave one to the men and they drink it. They fell asleep within a couple of minutes. . .




***


“Ay! Ay! Ay! Ay!”

The three men woke up all of a sudden. There were indigenous men and women dancing around them and singing some traditional song. The three travellers were stunned by what was happening. It was still night, but they could not tell what time it would be. They were totally awakened, but they felt a bit dizzy...

The men were first nervous by this sudden awakening, but they were now calmer. A woman with long black hair and wearing a colourful alpaca-wool dress went inside the dancers' circle and looked at Zuberi Diallo, Sato and José Luis severely and started speaking in her language to the gods. Then, a dancer gave her a wood jar containing a green cream. She spread the cream between the eyebrows of the men.

“Look! Look front!” she said in English with a very strong accent. “No look back!”

She then left as quickly as she had come. The dancers danced again around them and the three men's forehead was getting warmer, but in a pleasant way. When the dancers finished dancing, they brought a hot soup. The men then realized that the infusion they had drunk contained something that made them lose consciousness. So, they did not know whether they should eat the soup. One of the dancers told them they must eat it. He added it was part of the ritual. Unwillingly, they drank it, and they fell another time asleep.

There was something odd about the village's energy. I could feel the obvious presence of natural magic in Salala but somewhat it felt off, as if the touristic attraction this sacred place has become had offended the spirits. Maybe the daily rituals had slowly and considerably drained the energy that rested on this soil. Not so far away from the aura of light we were in, I could feel a bad energy growing in strength…

The ritual had begun in a different manner than what I am used to. We were asked to remain silent. While in my village, drums are used and songs are heard out during our rituals. To us, sound is like a cry from the heart, a roar from the throat and a pleading call to our God. However, I liked the idea of silence, I could acknowledge and grasp the complexity of the energy that surrounded me in ways I have never done before.

The herbs used in our drinks and bowls of soup were incredibly strong and acted quickly. I can’t help but wonder if they grow in the surrounding forests of the village. I have not yet revealed my identity and rare capacities to the strangers and the locals of Salala and I feel as though the herbs have worked differently on me. During the time I passed out, I had a vision of a middle-aged man barely dressed, he only had a piece of black rugged clothing that covered his lower body. His body was covered in symbols that had been scarred deeply into his dark skin, you could see a human skull attached to his clothing. There was something animalistic about him. His face was covered in mud and black paint. I can’t forget the way he stared at me or should I say the way he gazed right through my soul. His eyes were the eyes of horrible, terrifying deeds. They inspired power and darkness and were a shade of dark crimson, a peculiar shade that reminded me of the smell and the colour of drying blood. I could see behind him the shadows of spirits that he drained his energy from. I woke up gasping, my t-shirt was stenched with my own sweat and a few drops of perspiration were drippling from my forehead. I woke up quite in the same way you wake up from a nightmare, still terrified by what you imagined yet incredibly relieved it was only a bad dream.



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While the villagers were cooking our meal that night, we were asked to sit by the fire. I was left alone with the two strangers I had met back in the car. I could feel their eyes lingering on me, which somewhat seemed a habit by now. I could almost hear the questions in their head saying : Who is he? So I decided to speak up and break the uncomfortable silence that had settled around the fire.

“My name is Zuberi Diallo, my mother named me after power and strength. I was born to one of the oldest African tribes to have ever walked upon Kenyan soil. I belong to the heart and soul of the Maasai people. Our heritage dates back to the 15th century when our ancestors of North African land migrated through the Nile and set foot in Northern Kenya. My village is very traditional and relies solely on cattle to dictate the path of our lives. Our tribe follows the herd and therefore maintains a semi-nomadic lifestyle.”

The man with the small, pleated eyes and yellowish skin colour, looked up from the ground as he heard my voice loud and clear. The bearded man gazed at me, his eyes glistening with fascination. I knew by now the amount of questions in their minds had quadrupled so I decided to go on.

“ To be born a Diallo, a shaman by blood, meant I obtained a solid education. First, I learned about our culture and our traditions, then the rest of my teaching was to be done by myself. I had to seek wisdom everywhere around me, to find new ways and new forces to work from. As I grew older, I sought to listen more to my inner voice, the one that connects me to the spiritual world. I started to carefully observe the bones of animals, I opened my heart and ears to the sound of the drums during rituals and let all the magic sink in me. I tried to gain more knowledge from the benevolent spirits than those my father, Khari, called malevolent souls. These lost spirits are said to be the children of Rigba, the reincarnation of darkness and evil.
I have come all this way from my tribe of Africa to gain knowledge in hopes of saving my tribe from an increasingly worrying fate”

The men looked at me in shock while I stared back in disbelief at the silhouette that was now standing behind them. It was the man from my hallucination, the exact same one and for the first time in a long time I felt a tremendous amount of fear.

He looked at us, obviously pleased with my reaction.

“May I sit down with you?” he said, a wry smile appearing on the corner of his mouth. You could hear in the tonality of his voice that his question hadn’t actually been a question but an affirmation.

Tatsuhiro was looking at the campfire, trying to make sense out of everything he had been through since his arrival in Peru. He was weirdly proud of himself for not giving up at the first difficulty. He could have fled during the ritual, but he had not. He stayed, no matter how strange it was. He thought that he coul now handle his problem better. He finally had the courage to rectify mistakes he had made. He had enjoyed the women's dance but as soon as it had stopped, he had regretted coming to las Huaringas. When the strange beverage was offered, he tried to not take it, in fear of what could happen. Nevertheless, once the product in his mouth, he could do nothing else except swallowing it. The bitter taste made him shiver and soon after, he fell unconscious. He dreamt of his brother. He used to dream a lot about his little brother and mornings that followed were filled with guilt. This time was different. His younger brother was in a foggy mist, wearing only white clothes. Takimoto seemed well. He could walk, he could talk. He looked up to his brother and simply said:
- I forgive you.
Tatsuhiro woke up, deeply changed. Tears were covering his figure and he swiftly swept them with the back of his hand. Sato looked around to see if he had been noticed and met José’s eyes. They both looked down and the young Japanese thought about what the man had said earlier to the guide. What was it in the heart of man that made him fall in love? Tatsuhiro had never love as man does and was not sure to understand that feeling. The only ones he once loved was his brother Takimoto and his sister Mikumi, while she was still at home, taking care of him. Could a woman's love be similar? Could his family help him with his problem? Could they save him from society? He was deep in his thoughts when Zuberi spoke.

Sato had felt dominated by the man since the beggining of the journey and learning that Zuberi was a shaman did not appease his uneasiness. He was still glad to learn a bit more about his strange companions and was fascinated by their stories. He was about to ask Zuberi a question when a hollow voice emerged from behind. He felt shivers running down his spine.

“May I sit down with you?”

Sato was petrified and glared mouth open as the man was sitting down. He looked at Zuberi and saw him doubtful for the first time. Sato felt unneasy.

« It always depressed me to see fine young gentlemen up here in the Sacred Lagoons, because it can only mean one thing; unhappiness. I have seen sorrow and remorse on so many faces that I may have forgotten what joy looks like. And this, my friends, is the reason why I am here.

His mesmerizing smile grew wider and the three men found themselves captivated by the character. They would listen to each of his word with a particular attention.  The stranger was aware of it.

« I can protect you. I can make everything you want come true. I can chase away evil and let you rest at peace. I am not one of those impostors that make you believe in false magic. I can feel you thoughts. I know you have been disillusioned tonight, but do not let your heart fell in the shadows, because then you will be at the mercy of wandering spirits. »

The stranger stayed silence a few second, letting the threat in the air while the thought seized in the men’s brain. Sato did not understand what was going on, but he felt he could trust the newcomer. He did not know why and it did not bother him. He was even proud of himself since he usually had so much trouble trusting people.

« My name is Umaq and I believe I can guide you toward the righteous path. You just have to follow me.
Umaq stood up and for a second, Sato thought he had seen wings made of shadows on his back. He felt dizzy and reassured at the same time, but when Umaq left the circle of light made by the camp fire, sadness replaced everything. He suddenly felt empty and had one desire; find this state of well-being again. Without any afterthought, he followed the man in the darkness.

He could not see much, but he could guide himself by following Umaq’s joyful laugh. Finally, in the distance, he saw the warm brightness of a fire. Sato felt exhilarated, as if the fire was burning in his heart. He was smiling and was about to run towards the fire when a dreadful scream was heard throughout the night.
Sato stopped near the fire, traumatized by what was going on.

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT, CLICK HERE:https://lashuaringas.rpg-board.net/t7-black-magic-ritual