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Page 161
Third World. Our tribal leader and physician was our Hunganwitch doctor to you."
Cyrus kept his thoughts to himself.
"The things I saw that man do, people in this country would lock me up for telling about today. Lock me up and throw away the key."
Kazie took a long pull on the beer bottle; his Adam's apple bobbed up and down like a pile driver.
"If our Hungan liked you, that was fine. Your crops usually did okay and your family didn't get too very sick. 'Less of course there was a drought, and only Legba could do anything about that. But if he got down on you . . ." More beer disappeared down the old man's gullet. "People that crossed him dieddied hard. In some very unpleasant ways. Some got ruptured organs: spleens, lungs, livers, kidneys. Ruptured kidneys is a bad way to go, let me tell you. I saw this man take a week to die and he never stopped screaming until they threw the dirt in his face."
Kazie grinned then. His teeth sparkled like piano keys in the candlelight.
"The interesting part was, a week later I saw that same man. It was after sundown and I had been at our neighbor's helping birth a calf. I was walking back along the dirt track that went by the Hungan's hut when I saw the man. He was gray. Even in the twilight that man was gray as the mud mounds desert ants make. He was stacking wood beside the Hungan's hut. I snuck over behind this big old baobab tree for a better look and I nearly peed myself. Sure 'nuff, he was just as dead as when they put him down for his dirt nap, but his eyes . . . they kinda looked like red embers glowing way down deep in a fire pit."
Cyrus's ears pricked up at the description of the dead man's red eyes. "This man you're talking about," he said, "after he died, was he unusually strong and fast?"
Kazie nodded. "Fast? Fast enough to catch up the dry wind in his hands. And strong? He picked up a quarter cord a wood like it was a box of matches."

 
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