The old woman replied calmly, “It is not your daughter who is suffering. It is the spirit attached to her. That spirit was drawn by the exchange of her bathwater. The one who offered her the money was not an ordinary man. He was an intermediary, a servant of dark forces.”
Mariétou fell to her knees, hands clasped.
“Then there is no hope?”
The priestess fixed Alima with a piercing stare.
“There is always hope. But to free her, those forces must be confronted. And that is never done without courage.”
The old woman asked Mariétou to light a great fire in the courtyard. The neighbors, curious, approached discreetly. They whispered, wondering if the old woman was a witch.
The priestess arranged objects around the fire: cowries, dried herbs, a calabash of spring water, and a necklace made of ancient beads.
“This water is pure. It comes from the depths, where even the spirits of fire cannot defile it. But if your daughter touches it, the spirit inhabiting her will burn with rage. That is how we will know how strongly it possesses her.”
Mariétou helped her daughter, nearly unconscious, sit by the fire.
The old woman dipped a finger into the sacred water and touched Alima’s forehead.
An inhuman scream burst from her mouth at once. Her body arched backward, her eyes rolled white.
“Ahhh!”
The ground trembled slightly, and a sudden gust extinguished part of the flames. The neighbors recoiled in terror.
The priestess continued calmly, “You see? The pure water burns it. It is not your daughter who suffers. It is the spirit refusing to let go.”
Then the old woman lifted the necklace. The beads shone with a strange light under the fire.
“This necklace was blessed by the elders. If she wears it, it will push the spirit back. But know this: the spirit will not leave easily. It will fight, because it already believes your daughter belongs to it.”
Mariétou took the necklace with trembling hands and placed it around Alima’s neck.
At once, Alima let out another cry—but this time her eyes regained a human gleam. She breathed more deeply, as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her chest.
Mariétou burst into tears and held her daughter tightly.
“She lives. Oh, she still lives!”
The old woman rested her staff on the ground.
“This is only the first step. The necklace protects her, but it has not yet freed her. To break the curse completely, a stronger ritual will be needed—and your daughter herself must acknowledge her fault. Otherwise, the spirit will always return.”
At sunrise, Alima regained consciousness. Her eyes met her mother’s, filled with tears and exhaustion. She felt the necklace on her chest and touched the beads hesitantly.
“Mama, what happened?”
