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Power consumes, or so they say. So why do I, the one with the most power, try to fight fate? If it shall consume me, let it be, for I gladly accept all of the consequences of this life, good or bad, blessed or evil. Yet could one call me evil? They define what I am as someone who intends ill harm against another. They say I am someone with no soul, but I have a soul. It is a torn, withered, and blackened soul, but it is there. It is hard to find, because power consumes.
Power consumes, that is the way of life. I have known it since an early age, when I was still allowed to be a child. I was fascinated then, with the town witch-doctor. He had healed so many people; my friends, my family. We were all so close knit, in that tiny village in the middle of nowhere. And our inyanga ₁, he was the head of all things in the village. Even though the chief was supposed to be at the head of everyone, it was not so, for on more than one occasion I saw our baas₂ go to him in secret. I was not supposed to be there, but, looking back on it now, I am glad I did. Those visits would ultimately be our inyanga’s downfall, the definitive thing that showed me the saying is true, power consumes.
Power consumes, and when one is faced with the prospect of losing that power, they find it is very difficult to give it up. My inyanga’s goal was to expand beyond the meager village he was born into, because that is the nature of power. There is no end. More and more of it is craved, and one can never distinguish between those faint lines. Our inyanga was consumed. He did not know when to stop and that is how I managed to take his place. I found him out for what he truly was: a fraud, one who created the problems in the village he seemed to know how to fix. I saw him once, and that was enough. I took after him, discovering I too wielded that same power, the power of a thakatha. It was evil of him to use that power the way he did, but how could he not? After all, power consumes.
Power consumes. It consumed me to the point where I was no longer simply content to be the apprentice any longer, I wanted what he had. I wanted the recognition he got went he strode through the village. The way the heads bowed, the way people got out of his way, it was all so alluring. What he had consumed me, because power consumes.
Power consumes. It did when they killed him, in front of everyone. The chief kept his head, as was custom, and nobody questioned it. I however, gloried in it. It meant that I, the apprentice, became the next inyanga, the first woman to ever have earned this title, at least in my village. It was the dawn of a new era for my people and I. Yet I was no different than my predecessor and I did not care. I wanted what he had. I wanted the power, because the idea of power consumes.
Power consumes. I walked around the entire town, my key to success hidden deep within my garments, though even those were scant, as was tradition. Tradition was such a big part of my peoples’ lives, in fact it was everything. That’s why it worked for me to be who I was. I was the one who controlled life and death in the village, not the gods. They may have power somewhere, but it is not here. I have the power here. I control if somebody gets sick because of an ill placed contamination spell, or whether they live or die. There are magiks for all of that and I learned them from my deceased mentor. I do not take on a protégée because I will not make the same mistake as my mentor. He allowed the secrets to be shared and that was his downfall. It would not be mine. If I was caught it would be for some other reason, but nobody would ever learn my secrets. I trusted no one; after all, nobody could be trusted with this kind of power, least of all me. Power consumes.
Power consumes. Today is the day I will be killed. I became high on my throne of power and would not step down. From that height it is impossible to see the ground. You cannot see what is happening down there and I was blind to the whispers that were thrown around about why the attacks on my people continued even after the thakatha had been killed. It only made sense that he would teach his ways to the apprentice, after all, who else would he trust enough to share something of that magnitude with? And yet, there I sat, within the confines of my own people, not struggling because they discovered the magic stick that gave me my power. Now I was powerless. Yet, even after I am gone it will remain as it was. They will be drunk with the power of killing two thakanthas, and as I now know, power consumes.
Power consumes. They asked me why I did what I did. I looked to my baas, and he asked me again the question again. I smiled, and he took a step back, out of fear. That made my insides delight. Even after they captured me, they feared me. If only there was a way to escape, I could, and I would make them do my bidding without fear of capture. I could be out in the open because nobody would dare challenge me. And so, even in the face of death, I relished in the power I had. And the last two words I said before they cut off my head? Power consumes.
(1)
Inyanga- witch-doctor
(2)
Baas- Chief
(3)
Thakantha (s) - witch who operates in secret to harm others
A/N- This was actually inspired by a reading we did in one of my classes and I just wanted to research and write a story about it, so, I did. Anyway, it's a little out of my box, but it was interesting to write. So, tell me what you think, please? :)
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