Extemporaneous musings, occasionally poetic, about life in its richly varied dimensions, especially as relates to history, theology, law, literature, science, by one who is an attorney, ordained minister, historian, writer, and African American.
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
SEANCE IN ZIMBABWE
MY SEANCE IN ZIMBABWE 🇿🇼?
In Victoria Falls (MOSI O TUNYA). Zimbabwe , in 1983, three local brothers , one of whom was a banker, shepherded me into the hut of a tribal vizier, or spiritual man, "hoodoo man"--in African American parlance--to have my fortune told. The priest mumbled some unknown words, shook some bones together, and threw them onto the ground. He spoke some more. Shook again. Threw again . Looked up at me. And said something to my hosts.
In English, they told me things that have subsequently become true, about my life, that he had learned.
I have never forgotten about that session, that seance, with their medicine man, and my three friends, in Zimbabwe in Victoria Falls nee Mosi O Tunya (smoke that thunders): nor of its efficacy or accuracy.
A couple years later , one of my Zimbabwean friends called me in Kansas City, Missouri, from Dallas, Texas , where he had surprisingly emigrated and married. I had named him "cool man, " at his request, in Zimbabwe.
Naming friends must be a revered, honored tradition among them. As per requests, I had nicknamed all three.