‘If anyone’s interested it was a lizard.’
Cooper sat at the back of the New Revivalist church, staring at Rosedale as if he’d lost all sense. ‘What?’
He whispered again to Maddie who sat tensely, eyes darting around.
‘A lizard. In the bathroom this morning. It was a lizard.’
Fiddling with a pen and some leaflets he’d picked up at the entrance of the church, Cooper mouthed a silent, what are you talking about? before turning his attention back to the pastor on the stage.
The place was packed, and hot. Jammed to crushing point with the colorfully clad congregation, standing swaying as if they were flowers caught in a summer’s breeze. A smell of sickly stale sweat rested in the air.
The building itself was a white block construction. High ceilings. Small windows. Flags and posters warned all those present of the dangers and temptations of Satan and near the front was a stage; on it, three dark wooden crosses as high and wide as any cross Cooper had ever seen. Twelve foot tall and looking like they’d come from a Klan rally. By the altar, there was a banner; it simply read:
Cast out the witches, we shall deliver and set them free
A loud voice boomed over the Tannoy. Wanting to see the person who was speaking but unable to over the congregation, Cooper apologized and pushed past the row of people to make his way down to the end of the row.
Cooper stepped into the aisle. Nodded his head. Said a quiet ‘Gotcha’ to himself as he watched with interest the man they’d met at the fire, speaking with intimidating vigour whilst kneeling down in front of one of the crosses.
‘You are the physician of my soul. You are the redemption of those who come to you. I ask you to make powerless, expel, and drive out every manifestation, every evil influence directed against us. Spirits of death and darkness, I renounce and admonish Satan and every evil power he has. I forsake any evil witchcraft practiced by the spirits around. I ask you to take me and burn my body with the fire of you. Let the holy spirits of your ancestors protect you.’
Maddie and Rosedale came to stand next to Cooper. She whispered in his ear urgently. ‘Do you realize what’s about to happen?’
About to reply, Cooper leant in to Maddie’s ear, smelling the floral perfume she always wore. She smelled good. Fresh. Unlike Rosedale and himself, who hadn’t stopped sweating since they arrived in the country. Suddenly a roar, a cheer as loud and intense as any Redskins match Cooper had ever been to, filled the building. Stopped him saying what he was about to. Cries of ‘Amen’ and ‘Hallelujah’ reverberated around the church. To the side of him, he could see people with their arms stretched up, visibly throwing themselves onto the floor as if they’d been hit by a charging fullback.
By now half of the church were lying down and Cooper could see the place was making Maddie feel more and more uncomfortable.
The cheer rose up again, only this time the lights of the church dimmed and colorful spots whirled across the stage, like some kind of pop concert.
‘Look.’
Cooper nodded his head to Maddie as he saw a man being led onto the stage. The hysteria began to grow, helped along by the sudden playing of a badly-recorded version of a Congolese hymn.
Fascinated by the man who’d been led on the stage, by both his long dazzling white Swarovski-adorned robe, and the fact he’d brought an almost reverent silence to the whole place, Cooper and Rosedale watched mesmerized.
‘Je suis ici pour vous délivrer, pour vous débarrasser du mal. For those amongst you who don’t know, who until now have been lost amongst the thorns of evil, and who sat at the table of the possessed, I am here to set you free. My name is Papa Bemba. Servant, slayer, washer of your sins, cleanser of your soul.’
It was only when Papa Bemba took off his dark shades that Cooper really noticed the guy had them on, but there was no escaping the angry, thick scar tissue which lay beneath, where his eyes should’ve been.
The three of them watched as Bemba took the cup which had just been handed to him, then a second later watched as he deliberately poured it over the front of his robe.
Cooper had no idea why, nor what his intention was, but as the red liquid soaked into his robe, the brilliance of the red in stark contrast to the brilliance of the white robe, the dramatic cry from Bemba chilled even him.
‘I shall shed the blood. The blood of the witch. Come…! Come!’
Bemba raised his arms as three men, dressed in the regulation blue pinstripe suits, hurried onto stage a procession of children. Darting eyes. Scared faces. Fear staring out from the innocence of their youth.
‘I gotta do something!’ Maddie stepped forward but felt Rosedale’s hand grabbing her arm. Pulling her back. ‘Get the hell off me.’
Rosedale stared into her face. ‘Whatever it is you’re thinking you’re going to do, I’m not going to let you. You hear me.’
Her face flushed with anger and pain and fear, and Maddie tried to shake Rosedale’s grip off. ‘I said get off me… I’m going to stop this and there’s nothing you can do about it.’
With a mixture of surprise and shock, Rosedale saw Maddie go for the hidden .357 Smith & Wesson handgun they’d picked up from a contact when they’d arrived, and which she had hidden under her jacket. He hissed a warning. ‘Put that away. Have you lost your goddamn mind? See those men over there dressed in suits? Standing against the wall just watching? Well I guarantee underneath those suits they’re packing something which’ll make that Magnum look like a toy gun.’
Blinking and refusing and fighting and battling the tears away, Maddie appealed, wanting to hear Rosedale say what she needed to hear. ‘Please Rosedale, we can’t just stand here and do nothing.’
‘Maddie, I can’t let you.’
‘Do you know what they’re about to do? Do you…? A deliverance. The so called cleansing of children. The purging of the Kindoki force.’
‘I know.’
‘Then get off me.’
‘No… I’m sorry.’
‘How dare you try to stop me… Go to hell, Rosedale.’
‘I think we’re already there… Look.’
Maddie didn’t reply. Just watched. Felt sick. Her heart began to sink. Despair consuming her as she saw Papa Bemba walk with the help of one of his aides to the first child in the row. No older than five. Kneeling. Terrified. Shaking and crying.
She tried to run forward at the sight of Bemba pushing forcibly down on a little girl’s head, but Rosedale’s powerful grip held onto to her tightly.
‘I deliver her! I baptize her in the spirit that is good and worthy. I throw the flames of your name to rid her of the evil.’
Another cup was given to Papa Bemba, only this time he gave it to the child to drink. Immediately she began to cough and the cry of ‘Amen’ catapulted once more around the church.
‘Vomit up the devil. Vomir le diable.’
Maddie could hardly breathe as she continued to watch. She knew witchcraft was a system of belief, rooted in popular mentality from the uneducated right up to the high state officials. And she also knew traditional healing was nothing unusual where a medicine man, a Nganga, or a pastor helped and healed. But this form of belief in witchcraft, the deliverance, had been altered over the last decade. Twisting. Changing. Morphing into something dark. Something brutal where families and neighbors accused and cast out the children who were thought to be the possessed, and it had become common practice, and over the last few years the custom had grown.
Needing somebody to blame for a life of hardship and suffering and loss. Driven by Kinshasa and the rest of the country’s economy and infrastructure collapsing, as well as the result of government corruption and war, the number of children accused of witchcraft exploded.
Thousands of innocent, traumatized children lived on the streets of Kinshasa. And their faces, bewildered and unknowing, haunted her and she couldn’t help but think of Cora.
They were hunted down as witches by those who were supposed to protect them. Accused of using their supposed sorcery to bring harm to those around. Accused of causing illnesses. Loss of jobs. Loss of opportunity. Even the loss of items, sometimes as trivial as a mislaid ballpoint pen. Blamed for the difficulties of everyday life and powerless to defend themselves.
There’d always been the belief in spirits. She got it. Only too well. But what they were doing to the children was just plain wrong. And the rise of the revivalist church had exacerbated it, bringing about a rise in the business of witchcraft, making a business out of the deliverance of children – the suffering of children.
People were desperate for there to be a reason why pain and misery surrounded them, why the mouths they had to feed seemed as endless as the hunger pains. Human beings wanting answers, and believing all causation was spiritual.
So they turned to the church and the church pointed the blame at the young, promising to cleanse the child, driving out the evil spirit. But it didn’t come free. The promise of a new life came with a fee. Desperate families gave money, jewellery, land, even properties to rid themselves of their curse. But the people who paid the real price, the highest price, were the kids. For the lucky ones, the fortunate few, the practice of exorcism would only consist of starving the Kindoki out.
A week.
A fortnight.
A month.
Until eventually they’d be taken back into the fold of the family. The others? Maddie knew were beaten.
Tortured.
Burnt.
Thrown out on the streets to die or, more likely, killed. Suffering was everywhere. And she hated the smell of it. And how could she love her daddy’s country anymore – her country – when this was at the heart?
Maddie, her face strained, reflecting what Rosedale and Cooper were feeling, pushed Rosedale off.
‘I’ve seen enough. I’m getting out of here.’
Both men nodded in agreement. Relieved they could walk away. Guilty the children couldn’t.
Making their way out, none one of them looked back at the sound of the child screaming. They didn’t want to know what caused such anguish within her cry.
A few feet before the exit, Cooper felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, thinking it would be Rosedale, but faced two men. One he recognized. The guy from the fire.
‘The Church of the New Revivalist turns no sinner away who wants to free his soul, but I fear that’s not the purpose of your visit. I think it best we talk outside.’ A moment later Cooper felt a gun in his side.