The Horrors of Indoctrination

Chapter 2 : Sheri's Possession

Chapter 2 : Sheri's Possession

In the living room, Mumbi sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch adjacent to the entrance door, her hands clasped tightly as the droning prayers filled her ears. She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that were about to spill. The familiar rhythm of voices should have been comforting, but today they only made the knot in her stomach twist even tighter. To others, it may have looked like she was overwhelmed by the force of their devotional prayers. But the truth was she had never felt so hopeless. Mama Maina’s pitched voice led the chants, rising above the rest. “Oh, merciful Lord, we pray for your healing to shine upon Sheri...”

Mumbi cracked one eye open to steal a glance at her mother and, while she felt hurt and disappointed in the style of parenting in this household, she couldn’t help but subtly admire the resilience her mother portrayed. For three long years, they had carried out this same grim ritual, gathering in this room to beg the Heavenly Gates Church’s merciless god for healing. But no amount of praying had stopped the oozing wound on Sheri’s calf from rotting more of her flesh with each passing day. As the wound continued to grow, Sheri started having very high fevers that caused delirious nightmares. She would yell out loudly in the middle of the night, her voice sounding strange and animal-like as she fought against things she could not see. Eventually, those wild episodes turned into trances where she would stay completely still for hours, barely breathing, while staring blankly into nothingness.

But that’s the easier part. What of the low-humming noises and scratching on the walls that are getting worse every night? And the dramatic encounters with unseen forces that have been happening every fortnight? The most difficult times, however, were when Sheri’s behavior completely changed. Her eyes would turn dark and evil. She would become wild and uncontrolled, cursing terribly and throwing anything she could get her hands on plates, furniture, or anything else she could use as a weapon. Several people from the church had to hold her down until the evil force finally left her body. Then she would collapse on the floor, crying and not remembering anything that happened. At first, the church leaders said these disturbing things were just the devil testing their faith. They did special ceremonies to purify and anoint Sheri with holy oils.

They also fasted for days as a group to “starve the evil spirits” that were inside Sheri. But things only got worse. One time, about five months ago, Mumbi brought Sheri a small bowl of potato and broth stew their mother had prepared. At first, Sheri was just lying there, not moving with a blank stare as usual. But then suddenly, her eyes glowed bright red with an evil look. Before Mumbi could react, Sheri was on her—fast and strong. The stew bowl went flying and fell as Sheri’s bony hands squeezed Mumbi’s throat tightly. Mumbi tried to cry out as Sheri slammed her hard against the timber wall, hitting her head.

“Your flesh…will peel…from your bones!” Sheri’s lips drew back in a grimace to expose teeth clenched so hard they seemed on the verge of cracking. She was cursing and spitting as she spoke partially in Kikuyu and partially in an unknown, grating language.

Mumbi couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the burning agony as Sheri’s fingers dug deeper into her windpipe. She clawed desperately at her sister’s wrists, pleading, eyes seeking any remnant of recognition in Sheri’s face. But there was no trace of the girl she’d grown up playing and giggling with. Only the scorching glare of a demon’s fury peered through Sheri’s slim facial features. Black spots began clouding the edges of Mumbi’s vision. She felt consciousness slipping away, her struggles weakening as the fiery agony in her lungs grew stronger and stronger. Was this how she would die—choked by the very same beloved sibling she was so desperately trying to save?

Then, a loud shouting sound went through her ears.

“Sheri! Stop this now! Let go, right away!”

Baba Maina’s large body crashed into them, in a mess of moving arms and legs. One of his strong arms wrapped around Sheri’s neck from behind as his other hand forcefully tried to make her let go of Mumbi’s throat. With a wild scream, Sheri twisted and bucked like a crazy animal, almost breaking free from her father’s arm-lock. But his strong farmer’s strength was too much for her insane thrashing fueled by adrenaline. Finally, Sheri’s fingers relaxed, letting Mumbi fall to the ground. Mumbi coughed and gasped, trying to breathe in the valuable air. Red marks in the shape of Sheri’s tight grip appeared on Mumbi’s skin, as the room spun dizzily around her. During the confused fight, unclear forms of other people joined in holding down Sheri’s violent kicking and covering her angry screams with tied gags. Baba Maina was yelling something over the loud noise, his face strained and sweaty as he struggled to control his possessed child.

Mumbi couldn’t understand anything around her. Everything seemed to blend into a dizzying mix of bright lights, and intense pain was stabbing through her head. Just as she was about to pass out, she had one last memory embedded in her subconscious mind: She saw Sheri’s face up close, twisted into a frightening grin of cruel joy, even though her mouth was gagged.

In the swirling pain that enveloped Mumbi, she thought she saw something strange. She noticed one of Sheri’s eyes changing, turning into a creepy slit-pupil like that of a demon before rolling back, leaving only the white part visible. It was like there was another being lurking behind Sheri’s distorted face. It felt like an ancient, evil spirit, way older and more mysterious than anything the Heavenly Gates Church could deal with. Although she had seen lots of weird things surrounding Sheri’s illness, this was a first. This realization stuck with Mumbi until she finally completely lost consciousness.

Later that day, when Mumbi regained consciousness, she knew something had to be done. But what could she do? What she didn’t know was that this was the beginning of a long journey of fighting the unknown. Tonight, as Mumbi sat listening to the congregation’s prayers, her heart was unsettled, as she tried to brainstorm ideas on how she could help her elder sister. She had a churning feeling in her stomach as she remembered the previous month’s failed exorcism attempt.

The travelling priest she had smuggled into a nearby forest had thrown up his hands in defeat, insisting the dark force hovering around Sheri was too powerful to extract through conventional means. The memory was still a fresh wound. She had skipped school and snuck out at first light, making the long trek to the rural settlement on the outskirts of Muranga. Kumbu, the fabled prophet, lived in a small hut nestled within the mountainous region of Central Kenya.

Mumbi had brought every shilling she had managed to scrape together from doing odd jobs for neighbors—a paltry sum, but perhaps enough to entice the old man. Yet Kumbu, who seemed to be confident of few words, merely grinned when Mumbi desperately explained her sister’s affliction.

“That church of yours is a devil’s playground, my dear,” he had rasped in Kikuyu. “You cannot sell your soul to darkness and then expect the light to save you.” But he offered to visit anyway just to examine the situation. By the time Mumbi got back home, the sun was setting. She had no time. With great care, she carried the frail Sheri from the bed and placed her in a stomach-up position on a wool blanket. Careful not to exacerbate Sheri’s condition, she gently grasped the corners of the blanket and began dragging it across the uneven ground, guiding Sheri into the depths of the forest where the priest awaited them.

She could not risk her brother or, God forbid, her parents discovering that she had dragged her sickly sister out of their homestead. Or even worse, brought a stranger to perform an exorcism. The consequences of such an act were too dire to contemplate. After dragging Sheri for almost ten minutes, they were finally in a safe spot.

The trees enveloped the area, sheltering them from any prying eyes. Kumbu assessed the situation and within no time, he’d concluded that this was a lost battle. In a frantic rush, as though fleeing some dark and sinister power wielded by Sheri, he hastily departed, leaving Mumbi and her sickly sibling behind in the eerie, foreboding embrace of the woodland. Though the sun had dipped below the horizon, the world was not yet cloaked in total darkness. Mumbi turned toward the west and moved her head side by side to see around the trees that were obstructing her direct line of sight.

She looked at the bewildering beauty of twilight and sighed in disbelief at how meaningless her life felt in such a stunning world. She gazed for a few minutes, but she knew she must escort Sheri back before their parents’ return, lest they incur further wrath.

As weariness began to cloud her senses, she thought she glimpsed a ghostly form drifting amongst the trees but ultimately dismissed the unsettling vision as a trick of her exhausted mind. Despite her efforts, the forces behind her sister’s ailment seemed too complex for her 17-year-old brain to unravel. Mumbi’s second attempt at securing an exorcism for Sheri had failed. She was running out of options. As she sat on this old couch, listening to murmurs of prayer, her heart was sinking with defeat and hopelessness. A warm tear traced its way down Mumbi’s cheek as she thought of her sister’s razed form. When would her suffering end?

She had tried everything she could to release Sheri from this merciless, dark force... but nothing seemed to work. Kumbu’s last judgement on what awaited Sheri had crushed her last desperate hope. What unholy force was this that could not be exorcised? That the most hallowed rituals could not expunge?

Mumbi risked another glance over at Maina, her youngest sibling. His eyes were squeezed shut; his fists clenched tightly as he matched his parents’ invocations. Only ten years old yet already indoctrinated to place every last shred of faith in the Heavenly Gates Church’s dubious teachings. “Cast out the evil demons that have polluted her body!” Wanjohi’s gruff voice temporarily drowned out Mumbi’s whirling thoughts. Trying to steer her mind back into this prayer meeting, Mumbi wiped off her tears that had now started to wet her grandma-looking dress, closed her eyes, and rejoined the chanting.

As the prayers swelled to the c****x, Mumbi found her own voice joining in, if only to maintain the fragile illusion of devotion. But inside, her doubts were growing unruly, weeds pushing through the cracked foundation of all she had ever been taught to believe. And her mind was set. If the Heavenly Gates Church’s methods could not save her beloved sister, she would have to seek more extreme solutions, no matter how many rules she had to break in the process.