Bamako, Mali: and a tale of the witchdoctor's assistant

His father had named him Gauche, as in "Left" in French.  I wondered if Gauche was left-handed but didn't ask -- it was a commonly held belief that those left handed were bad luck.  But perhaps his father was able to turn Gauche's luck around.  You see his father was a Malian witch doctor and Gauche, himself, was a purveyor of magical goods.  It was all there -- the skins and bones and hooves and claws -- in his, ahem, pungent shop in Bamako. 

I asked Gauche if he had "the gift" -- if he knew the secrets.  He said that his father had told him a few things but not many.  Magic was powerful, after all and black magic, in particular, was dangerous -- it could hurt someone, or even kill them.  His father had said he would reveal more to Gauche later, when he was sure that his son would use the information responsibly and when Gauche became enlightened with the gift.  Until then, Guache was tucking the information away.  Away for one day, when he was the witch doctor, not his father....

And now...for some magic.....

If you want to make someone fall in love with you or listen to you, place your gris-gris (voodoo amulet) inside the head of a crocodile.

Cowrie shells have many magical purposes, including for divination.

Beware -- a monkey head can be used to make someone sick or....crazy.  Extract the brain of the hyena to ensure prosperity.  Put fur from a rabbit's head in hot water or tea and inhale the vapor to treat headaches.  Rabbit vapor is also helpful for treating children's bloody noses.

Use the teeth of bats to help children suffering during teething.
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if you want to ensure that your fields are fertile, place your gris-gris inside the head of a wild dog and bury it on your land. 

Turtle shells can be ground and used to "treat" adulterous women.

PS  Be wary of the leg bones of ostriches.  They can be used to make someone leave and never come back.....

Bamako, Mali: and a tale of the witchdoctor's market

Oh, I seem ordinary, rationale, why, nearly scientific.  I base my decisions on facts, just the facts, only the facts.  But perhaps that is just a cover.  Because, you see, underneath it all lies a pocket filled with talismans and a heart filled with magic.  {Did I mention a past replete with visits to witch doctors, attendance at African exorcisms, the reading of palms and auras, and true encounters with genies and the evil eye? }

I confess my fascination, my rapacious curiosity for all that is unexplained and inexplicable.  And my attraction to mysteries seemingly solved only by magic -- whether white {yes, please} or black  {oh no!}.

Oh you, yes, you, believer of men who walk on water and virgin births, or wafers and wine that turn {just like that} into body and blood....  And you, yes, you, believer in horoscopes and wishes on stars, with worries of black cats or broken mirrors......  And you, yes, you, believer in none of that but plagued by keys that disapppear and then are found, why..... just there -- where you are quite sure, you just looked.  Yes, I'm talking about you.....I beg you, don't judge me too harshly.  I make no claim to higher elected office or positions requiring congressional clearance, and so I can explain my visit {if you must know} to the purveyor of goods for witchdoctors and mystical healers in Bamako, Mali. 

It is there that you'll find the odd, the strange, the horrid, and the frankly just shocking .....The skins and bones, the teeth and claws.  And gasp, yes, the heads. {You see, the spells and incantations of magic and sorcery are hungry, so hungry for that and much more.} 

Yes, there's more, much more......Because tomorrow a tale of the Malian witchdoctor's assistant and what is actually done with these magical goods.  Want to make him fall in love......? Want to earn more money?  Or simply want to stop your headache?  I have the magical solutions to those issues and  more.  

Tomorrow, yes......tomorrow.  Come prepared with a paper and pen {and please, tell no one.....}

{And just like that, in a puff of smoke or a cloud of words.....she was gone}