Continued from The Prophet (Part 1)
The prophet forced the oil down my throat and demanded a confession from me. When no confession came forth from me, he laid his palms on my forehead. If I knew he wanted me to fall down under his ‘anointing’, I would have. The problem was that I didn’t feel any ‘anointing’ so I didn’t fall; that didn’t go well for me.
The prophet forcefully pushed me down on the floor, and slapped me. He told my aunt that the evil spirits that possessed me were so powerful and stubborn. My aunt mumbled words which I wasn’t sure if they were prayers or curses.
I was literally bathed in the holy oil and my aunt didn’t care about the rug carpet. The prophet brought out a whip from his bag of many horrors. He repeatedly lashed me till I could feel the skin on my back begin to peel.
Just when I thought he had given up, he brought out grinded pepper from his bag of horrors. He rubbed it on his fingertips and carefully applied it on my back. My aunt said “you will die today, unless you confess.”
At that moment, I couldn’t believe that she was the same woman who came to pick me from the village with smiles. I couldn’t believe that she had promised Momma she’d take good care of me. The thought that she was Momma’s blood sister gave me goosebumps.
To be continued…