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white man and the negative force

published: 2011-10-29

A man feels a negative force is holding him back. His marriage recently ended. His career has reached a dead-end. He feels he is getting older than his age would merit. His son is suddenly asthmatic. In a dream it comes to him: it is the wood carving from Kenya on his wall. The one with white eyes, a mouth, a penis. He bought it in a tourist shop. He bought many other things there too, last-minute souvenir shopping. It is this particular item he is to get rid of. But how?
He can’t throw it away as this would surely release even angrier powers. He can’t give it to anyone as he would then be giving that person hatred. He reads online what one is to do: wrap the object up in aluminium foil, that way it won’t be able to radiate it’s powers. Then put it away, in a box or cupboard.
He buys a pack of foil and uses all of it to wrap the thing up. Then he puts it in his basement, as far away as possible.

Still, he can feel it.

More research leads to sage. He opens all the windows, burns so much sage that he can hardly breathe and in every corner of the house. Out, he says to himself, out. Go now! Go!
Even still, he can feel it.

So he does something he hasn’t done in a very long time. He kneels to pray. On the floor, in front of where the wooden carving was and now no longer is. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out a few times and repeats the words: It’s okay. You can go now. You no longer need to be here.
The thing is very resistant, stronger than him maybe even. He doesn’t want it to become a battle of wills, this he will surely lose. He envisions how the thing is fighting against the foil, enraged. Again he says: calm down, you have done your job. Now it’s time to leave me alone.

It doesn’t work.

So the he asks the carving that he clearly sees in his mind’s eye: what is it you want me to do? And he bows his head to it. He waits for a while, in silence, his eyes closed. Suddenly he whispers aloud, “All right, if that’s what you want. I will bring you back to Africa. I promise.”
It scares him a little and so he adds, “maybe not in a week or a year, but eventually I will. So please, rest now. Grant me my peace and my fortune. I made a mistake and I’m sorry.”

The carving isn’t satisfied yet. The man now understands the following: he is not only to bring the carving back to Africa, he is to give back to Africa.
Give back? Give back what? A silence ensues. The carving is settling down, finally. All right then, the man says aloud, I promise you that too.
How does the thing know he means it?

A promise is a promise, says the man, is what I always tell my son.
Instantly he feels that a burden is lifted.
That same night, he runs into someone. That someone that helps him push his career forward.

He is now an established architect. He has forgotten all about his promise. And after he dies at old age, leaving his son a fortune, that same son finds an object in the basement. It is wrapped in foil. This must be precious, the son thinks. He gently unwraps it, strokes it, and hangs it up above his bed. There, he thinks, my father is now close.

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