The Blessing

Dusk. A blanket of dry air and dust hovers stiflingly over the land as the sun hangs low on the western horizon. I walk through the rust colored streets among women carrying water and clusters of smartly dressed men taking advantage of their last opportunity to socialize before returning to their respective homesteads. After two days away from the village I’m eager to return home and shed the inch thick layer dust that is the inevitable result of a several hour long bus ride through Kenyan back country. A minor hardship, like safari ants or amateur karaoke night, that one just seems to get used to after living in a remote area for a prolonged period of time. As I caution up to my front door, my eyes scan the ground for signs of the blood thirsty siafu colony which has been frequenting my residence on a near nightly basis as of late. Over the past many months my siafu evading skills have easily surpassed the black belt level, if indeed belts are given out for such things, though I’d just as soon not be taken surprise by a twenty million strong storm of miniaturized marching hyenas.

Seeing no signs of the tiny vampire horde on the ground I move to slide my key into the lock on my front door only to have my eyes fall upon a most unexpected sight: a small branch , meaningfully fastened above the entryway of my home. In an area where belief in witchcraft is slightly more prevalent than that in gravity the implications of such an omen are dubious at best. “Safari ants and witches?! Great.” I mutter under my breath. Deciding to leave nature (and I this case super-nature) to play out it’s course I leave the twigly ornament in place and proceed about my nightly routine without giving it another thought.

A few days slip by uneventfully until I find myself in front of my house one afternoon. My eye is caught by the bough hanging above the door and I’m once again reminded of the mystery surrounding it’s appearance and intention. I point out the new addition to a nearby co-worker and ask if he knows what it means. He walks up to the door, his inquisitive eyes fixing on the branch’s form as his mouth draws wide across his face and into a smile.

“It’s a blessing”, he tells me,” It’s to keep siafu from entering. How did you know to put this up?” he asks.

I explain the mysterious appearance of the apparently enchanted switch to my associate who, wearing a mask of wonder and amazement, nods agreeably and wanders back to his work. Months later the now withered and leafless charm remains suspended above my door, it’s origin still unknown, although it’s siafu repelling effects still potent as the crazed safari ant horde has yet to return.