Free Tidetown by Robert Power

remembers the old sangoma teaching him that ancestral spirits can materialise in many ways. They can be the personal ancestors of the sangoma , or of the person he is trying to help. They can also be the spirits of ancestors linked to a place or a community. ‘All spirits,’ the old sangoma had said one night, just before they lay down to sleep in the ndumba , ‘have the power to connect the sangoma to the spirits that are working to cause affliction.’ As always, Zakora had listened intently, eager to learn all he could from this wise old man. That night the flames from the fire had lit up the old sangoma’s eyes as he spoke.
    â€˜Beware. Be on guard. Helping and harming spirits will use the human body, especially the afflicted one’s body, as a battle ground for their own conflicts. By using ngoma , you as the sangoma must work tirelessly, at no worry of personal cost, to create harmony between these warring spirits. Your actions, your putting into practice all that you learn, by being steadfast in faith, will result in the lifting of the pain and suffering of those who come to you for help and succour.’
    Deep in thought and memory, Zakora becomes aware that Brother Paul is standing beside him. His upturned palms and questioning face indicate that he wonders what preoccupies his new-found friend.
    â€˜Ah,’ says Zakora, ‘the sound and smell of the sea made me think of home. The sea on all our shores. And I was remembering something of what the old sangoma taught me.’
    Brother Paul puts his hand on Zakora’s shoulder and then sits down beside him. They both look out at the waves, rising and falling, glittering and shifting.
    A small crab scuttles by, its claws clicking on the pebbles as it makes its way to the water’s edge. Zakora picks it up by its shell, its legs and claws flailing in all directions. Holding it at eye level he examines its exquisite form.
    â€˜My task, my calling, is to be a channel from this world to the next. The old sangoma taught me how to be a mediator between the human world and that of the spirits. There are many means to achieve this. He spoke of creatures that move between different worlds and how they can be used as a medium. This crab will be my familiar. He moves between the world of the land and the sea.’
    Brother Paul looks on amazed; his eyes lighten in enjoyment at all these revelations. He touches the lips of his friend with the tips of his fingers and then pinches his own ears between finger and thumb.
    â€˜You want me to tell you something?’ asks Zakora.
    Bother Paul points at Zakora, nodding enthusiastically.
    â€˜My story?’ he asks, interpreting the actions and prompts of his friend.
    Brother Paul nods again, gathering the loose cloth of his habit around his body, then sits close to Zakora, making himself comfortable in anticipation.
    So Zakora settles down next to him, putting the crab back on the sand.
    â€˜Well,’ says Zakora the sangoma , as the crab hurries away, disappearing into a crevice in the rocks, ‘it really began with a terrible headache. But you would know nothing unless I tell you all the little details.’
    Brother Paul listens with full attention, a fullness of empathy and compassion, as Zakora tells a story that ends with another headache, the press-gang, and the ship breaking up on the rocks.
    â€˜â€¦ and,’ he concludes, ‘when the storm came and I was thrown into the seas I knew there was meaning. I knew the ancestors were watching over me and there was a plan for me that I was yet to know. So when I was washed up on these shores and the first person I saw was you, this strange shape, this apparition in a hooded cape, I knew a purpose was unfolding. Not one that I know even now, but a purpose, a meaning nonetheless.’
    Brother Paul puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder, knowing him better, quietly appreciating the subtle parallels in their