“Tell us why you want this man punished,” the chief instructed Rhoda.
Rhoda Mulli stepped forward, her shoulders hunched, her eyes down. Charles could not imagine what was going through her mind. Was she relieved that this was nearly over? Did she feel guilty for testifying against her own husband?
Everyone stood quietly as Rhoda explained the years of abuse that she and her children had faced at the hands of Daudi. She stopped several times to sob or wipe her nose. It was hard for Charles to hear her account. When she finished, she stepped back. Aunt Muthikwa put her arm around Rhoda. Charles was glad that Esther had decided not to come today. The testimony had been gut-wrenching.
“Charles, do you have anything to add to your mother’s accusations?”
“I am done,” Charles said. “This man has caused so much pain to my mother and our family. We have begged him to change, but he will not. Other people have told him to change, but he threatens to kill them if they interfere. I ask for the clan to intervene once and for all.”
The chief then turned to Daudi Mulli and asked, “Is what they say true?”
Charles watched as his father dropped his head and wailed. “It is true,” he said. “I have been that man.”
“Very well,” the chief said. “You shall be punished.” He nodded to six strong young men, who grabbed Daudi and threw him to the ground. Daudi screamed. The men pulled off his shirt, tied his wrists and ankles, and then dragged him a few feet away.
The crowd gathered in a circle. This is what they had come to see. A cheer went up as the young men stood around Daudi.
Charles stood wishing it were already over. He could see his father tied facedown on the ground, flailing about. When the first lash came down on Daudi’s back, Daudi let out a piercing scream.
Watching his father endure the same agony he had inflicted on his wife, on Charles, and on Charles’s brothers for so long brought no satisfaction to Charles. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Charles looked around at the crowd. They were thirsty for blood—his father’s blood. Charles was sure that he was the only Christian there, the only one who knew that Daudi was on his way to hell, and the only one who understood the mercy God extends to all people.
“Charles, do something. Help me. I am sorry.” His father’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Kill him. Kill him,” the crowd chanted as more lashes and blows cracked across Daudi’s back.
Charles tried to block out the sound. He didn’t feel liberated. It didn’t seem like he was being freed from a great weight. In fact, the thought of having the death of his father on his hands was unbearable. Time seemed to stop as Charles debated with himself. Yes, his father deserved to die, but wasn’t God a God of mercy? But what about his mother? If he intervened, wouldn’t his father beat his mother again and perhaps kill her? Was it fair to exchange his worthless life for hers?
“Charles, please!” his father yelled.
Suddenly Charles raised his hands. “Stop!” he shouted, loud enough to be heard over the chanting. Silence fell over the group, and every eye turned to Charles. “I want you to stop the beating. I want to plead for my father’s life,” he said.
The crowd swayed with disappointment.
“What did you say?” the chief asked.
Charles repeated himself.
“Are you sure?” the chief inquired. “You are the one who asked for this. Are you backing down now?”
“I will never do it again. Please save me,” Daudi pleaded.
“Yes, I am sure,” Charles said.
The crowd grew restless. They had come to watch a beating and death, not a negotiation.
“Very well,” the chief replied. “This has never happened before. Daudi deserves to die, but if you agree to pay a fine of one cow, I will order them to stop.”
“Thank you,” Charles replied.
“And the bull will still be slaughtered, and we will feast tonight,” the chief said to the crowd. “But you can go now. There is nothing more to see here.” He paused and looked at Daudi. “And as for you, your life has been spared through the compassion of your son. But he has the right to recall you to this court. If you ever come back again, I will not hesitate to have you beaten. And next time, no one will stop it until you are dead. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Daudi said.
Charles walked over to his father, bent down and untied the knots, and said, “You are a free man. I bear no grudge against you, and I am not going to disown you, but you have to change. You have to stop beating your wife. You have to stop drinking. You have to stop using my name to sell my properties. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Daudi said. “I will change. I never want to come back here again.”
“Neither do I,” Charles said as he walked away.
Chapter 7
Stronger than the Witch Doctor
Six months later, things were going better than ever for the Mulli family. Charles continued to send money to his parents through the post office bank, and he heard good reports that his father had stopped drinking. The future looked bright and predictable. That is, until the day before Christmas when Charles received a letter from Aunt Muthikwa.
Muthikwa had gone to visit Charles’s mother and father and wrote that Daudi had gone back to his drinking. However, Daudi realized that he was risking death every time he drank and begged Muthikwa to help him find a solution to his powerlessness over alcohol. She said they went together to see a witch doctor, who told them Daudi was being haunted by the evil spirits of his ancestors. Even more alarming to his aunt was the pronouncement that not only Daudi but also the entire family were in danger of ruin. Muthikwa begged Charles to come to Ndalani and go with his father to visit the most powerful witch doctor in the area.
Charles felt a heavy weight of discouragement come over him. He had been praying for his father for thirteen years. Would Daudi ever change? Even knowing that the clan chief had said he would be killed if he continued to drink had not been enough of a threat. Charles wondered what he should do.
That night he and Esther discussed their options. They could send Daudi back to the chief to be put to death, they could cut off all contact with Daudi and Rhoda, or Charles could go to Ndalani and accompany his father to see the witch doctor.
“I think you should go,” Esther encouraged her husband. “Remember that Jesus said in the Gospel of Matthew, ‘All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.’”
“Yes,” Charles said. “I don’t believe my father understands how powerful God is compared to a witch doctor. Perhaps it’s time for him to see for himself.”
The following weekend, Charles drove to Ndalani. Along the way he prayed that God would guide his steps and that his father would come to see the futility of what the witch doctor had to offer.
When Charles arrived, Daudi seemed glad to see his son. “We have to get help,” he told Charles.
“I agree. But why do you think the witch doctor will help you?” Charles asked.
“There’s no one else!” Daudi exclaimed. “Everyone knows that only the witch doctor has the power over the spirits of the ancestors.”
“I don’t agree,” Charles said. “I believe that help comes from the living God. But we shall see. I will go with you tomorrow and see what kind of power your witch doctor really has.”
Early the next morning, Charles got up before everyone else. He walked silently to a nearby field and knelt to pray. “God, I know You’re the one who is all-powerful. You are stronger, far, far stronger than the witch doctor. You know the problem my father has, and I know that only You have the power to change him from the inside out. Please reveal Your power to him today.”
After breakfast, father and son set out to walk to the witch doctor’s compound several miles away. They could have taken Charles’s car, but Charles didn’t want to draw attention to himself and his father. It would be better if they arrived on foot like everyone else. They reached the witch doctor’s compound later in the day. Hundreds of people were already seated in small groups on the hillside beside the compound.
As the two men walked through the crowd, Charles noticed many needy people, blind, crippled, and very sick. The people spoke in languages from all over Kenya, and even in a few languages that Charles did not recognize. In fact, Charles realized he had never before been in such a mixed group of people. Asians, Arabs, and Europeans, as well as Africans, were present.
Charles and his father asked a woman how you got to actually see the witch doctor, since such a big crowd was waiting. She shrugged. “Just find somewhere to sit,” she said. “See over there. Those people have been waiting for two days. Others are invited in sooner to see him. You have to wait until someone comes and picks you out of the crowd.”
Charles sighed. He could see that it was going to be a very long day. He and his father found a spot of ground and sat down to wait. To Charles’s surprise, within minutes the witch doctor’s assistant stood in front of him and Daudi. “It is your turn. Come with me,” he said.
“Really? So soon?” Charles asked.
“Yes, the witch doctor has asked for you.”
Charles and his father stood and followed the witch doctor’s assistant to a small mud hut with a thatched roof and no windows. As they stepped inside, smoke stung Charles’s eyes. Charles squinted to see. A leopard skin lay on the floor, and a man about his age sat motionless in the corner.
“Sit down,” the assistant said before backing out the door.
Charles and Daudi each sat on one of the three-legged stools beside the smoky fire. Opposite them, the witch doctor hardly moved. Charles prayed under his breath as Daudi sat expectantly. But it was Charles whom the witch doctor focused on, fixing a cold stare on him. Charles held his gaze. Seconds passed. Then the witch doctor started to shake. First his hands beat against his stomach, then his teeth started to chatter, and he gasped for breath. “Why are you here?” he asked, still staring at Charles. “Why have you come? Why would you do this to me? How can you?”
Then, still shaking uncontrollably, the witch doctor turned to Daudi. “Your son has no problems. Go away and come back the day after tomorrow.”
“No,” Charles said. “I want you to tell us how you will help my father.”
“Leave now,” the witch doctor pleaded. “You must go.” He started to wail.
The assistant came in. He looked shocked. “The witch doctor is not well. Please go,” he said.
Charles grabbed Daudi’s arm, and the two men walked back into the sunny afternoon.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Charles said, “Now do you understand that the witch doctor has no power?”
His father did not speak, and Charles knew that he would not be convinced until the witch doctor spoke directly to him. “You will see,” he said. “We will come back in two days like he asked. When this is all over, you will have no doubt that the Christian God is the one with the power.”
Two days later Charles and his father returned to the witch doctor’s compound. The scene was much the same as it had been on their previous visit. They found a spot to sit. Although it was a few hundred yards from the witch doctor’s hut, Charles could see the hut clearly. All morning he watched men, women, and children entering and leaving the hut. Shortly after noon, Charles stood up to stretch. Just as he was about to sit down again, he felt the strangest sensation. It was as if he were watching a movie and the sound had gone mute. Everything around him seemed to turn in slow motion. He could see people talking around them, but he could not hear them. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw a massive flash of light as the witch doctor’s hut exploded in a ball of fire.
The people closest to the compound screamed. This time Charles heard them. The fire quickly spread across the dry grass on the hillside. Charles pulled Daudi to his feet, and they ran. Half an hour later they were standing on the opposite hillside staring back at the scene. The entire compound and the hill where everyone had sat waiting to see the witch doctor were charred black. Although the fire was now out, smoke continued to rise from the smoldering embers and spread in long, wispy fingers across the sky. “There’s no way the witch doctor could have survived,” Charles said as he surveyed the scene.
