The Legend of the Seeker

My Grandmother used to cane me thoroughly when I erred as a child. In situations where it wasn't proven that I erred, it wasn't alien to be at the receiving end of thunderous slaps and mean knocks.

The path was like this: I did something wrong - my grandmother got angry - I got caned - I screamed to elicit the neighbours' pity - they scolded and caned me further - I cried uncontrollably - I stopped crying - I did it again some other time.

By the time I was 12, strokes of cane against my bare back thrilled me. It was a time to display my ability to resist the cane. I sometimes withstood heavy flogging from my grandmother just to frustrate her. I laughed hysterically during flogging sessions or sometimes stood lifeless like a log till the proceedings were over.

I recall frustrating my grandmother so bad that she flogged me till she collapsed. Despite the intensity of the flogging, I didn't shed a tear. I was out of control, nobody could caution me or give me instructions; I simply did what I wanted, when I willed and how I wished.

By the time I was 15, I stole a cockerel and sold it for 5 cowries to an unsuspecting woman who thought my sick father needed the money to pay a physician. A few years later, I joined a gang and officially became a miscreant. I later killed my grandmother in a fit of anger because she questioned my whereabouts.

I recall planning my own grandmother's death. I tied her hands, legs and gagged her mouth with a dirty cloth before I beheaded her with my machete. Her head was sent flying at the strike of my machete and her body jerked violently for the next few seconds. I don't know what came over me or why I did what I did.

My grandmother was the only family I had left as every other relative I had were either killed in the legendary war against Izundu Village or didn't want to have anything to do with me because of my reputation. I sulked for a few days and later went on a rampage to pacify my bleeding heart, I beheaded the priestess right before the shrine of "Amili", the god of purity.

In my short life, I had killed too many people, stolen from too many people, raped too many virgins and defiled the shrine of too many gods. The whole village whispered that "mozumba", the god of vengeance would avenge the sacrilege I committed at the shrine of his estranged wife "amili". I was accursed because I killed my own blood and was renamed accordingly.

For once I was scared, the rumoured wrath of the gods that awaited me made me shudder anytime I thought about it. I was scarred by the death of my grandmother as I kept hallucinating; I hadn't got any sleep in 10 days. I was losing my mind.

One windy market day, I got up, picked up my machete; the same machete that beheaded my grandmother and the 'amili' priestess. I made my way into the palace and killed the king in his inner chambers. Two strikes against his neck, the king's blood was gushing like a Japanese fountain.
                                                    (The story continues next week)