What It’s Like Living in a Voodoo Home

It’s almost like waking up to find a 5 litre bottle of water and not knowing what it’s for. With the water shedding crisis you wonder is it for drinking? Is it sea water? Is it prayer water that you received from the mountain and you have to bath with it for three sunsets while facing the East and chanting while you do it? Living in a voodoo home, the possibilities are endless.

In one of my blog posts, Finding Accommodation in Harare, I explained my woes when it comes to living conditions as a tenant. Finding the right place to live is the Game of Thrones. Like Cersei said, “It’s either you win, or you die.” It’s the exactly the same when finding accommodation in Harare. I thought I’d struck gold when I found a place in Marlborough. It was quiet, no kids and close to bae’s house. But we all know the pot of gold comes with a leprechaun (tokoloshe if you’re African.)

https://giphy.com/gifs/laugh-monster-leprechaun-4cRPUGXLc6jWU

We started off well. I was minding my own, landlady was minding her own. Her married boyfriend would come by sometimes but like I said, I was minding my own.

A few weeks later I woke up to voices in the lounge. Didn’t think anything of it. I was minding my own. Headed to breakfast I realised these people were in the garb of a certain religious sect. Still didn’t mind, it was none of my business. Fast forward to 10 hours later they were still there. It was still none of my business. I went to sleep.

Woke up in the middle of the night to eery chanting and singing. I’m spiritually paranoid so I never want to be awake at 3am ever since I watched the Exorcism of Emily Rose. When something is described as hair-raising it could be fun like your friend holding up your weave while you throw up. But this was a different kind of hair raising, it was like the hair on my nape was standing on end. Almost like a meercat peering into the horizon checking the coast.

I wanted to confront them. But I knew nothing about spiritual warfare. I heard voices in the corridor discussing the need for coarse salt and that’s when I got up and locked the door. I wasn’t about to become a blood sacrifice for nobody.

From that night, I was never at peace in the home again. I was double checking everything. I moved my food items from the kitchen and the pantry. I couldn’t hang my underwear where she could find them and there was no way I’d dispose of my sanitary wear in the refuse bag she had access to. Like I said, spiritually paranoid.

I was filling up the drums with water when I made a spill. I went over to the other bathroom to fetch the mop when I walked into something wicked. The other bathroom was in a vacant en suite. The bedroom was usually empty but on that day, there was an empty chair, some bottles of water, strange items, pieces of clothing and instructions on the wall. I didn’t know what I’d walked into but I knew I had to move. I wasn’t about to be initiated by virtue of living there. Who knows what Deity was sitting on that chair. I sure as hell didn’t wanna find out.

Thembi you should be respectful of people’s religious choices.

I am! But I also know that when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I wasn’t about to do as the Romans do. I didn’t know what it was and yes I fear things that I do not know. I’ve watched a lot of Nigerian movies so my fears are plausible. They say if it’s too hot, get out of the kitchen. You know what else is hot? Hell.

Two weeks later I moved out.