Whiteheart: Prologue to Hysteria

my mother scraped asked & begged

& did what not & took me to a

sangoma. the healer had flames in

her eyes & the smell in her little

room full of bones & dark bottles &

herbs & animal skins sat down

heavily on my stomach. with a dirty

rusty razor she made incisions on

my elbows forehead chest & ankles.

she rubbed snuff mixed with

something other in the little wounds.

i drank litres of water plus some

other medicine on her order stuck

two fingers deep in my mouth &

vomited. she saw stories of early

death & foreboding times for me in

my vomit... when they slaughtered

two chickens & smeared the blood

over me i didn't lose consciousness.

but i have been doing so ever since.

"I've never celebrated nor embraced negativity in

my life. Every single thing I have tried to do or

written has come out of a need to actually

eradicate or wipe out whatever it is that seeks to

destroy the soul of other people."

"I respect the WORD. People talk about wordplay, I

don't play with it... it's one of the most powerful

weapons in the world."