It was almost harmattan season when we arrived in Nigeria. Sherlock, never one to waste time, demanded we go see the priest at once. We were going to investigate how a strange doll picked up by a little girl resulted in the death of the father, mother and the little girl. Sherlock was convinced something was afoul. I was rather convinced that the papers were right, it was a clear case of voodoo.
We arrived at the church, a massive cathedral that stood out in stark relief to the dilapidated houses guarding its perimeter. As soon as we stepped into the church, I felt a small resemblance of the cool air we left in London. But that was all. The church was nothing like the ones we had in London. Before I could take in the luxurious scenery set before me, I felt Sherlock’s hand rap on my side. I looked up and saw a man approaching.
“Hello my friends. Welcome to Nigeria.” The man bellowed stretching a plump hand. If this was really a priest’s hand, then I wanted to be a priest. Sherlock looked at the hand, glanced away and inquired after Father Noah. The man promptly replied that he was Father Noah. Both men spoke on, ignoring me. I was used to being ignored, but not every time.
“Ahem. I am Dr. Watson.”
“Oh. You’re his P.A right?
“P.A?”
“Personal Assistant, Watson. Obviously that’s the only way he can explain our rather unique relationship considering you are not as famous as I am. The alternative wouldn’t be savoury. I hear they burn homosexuals here.” Sherlock announced turning to Father Noah with an expressionless gaze.
“Oh no. Not me. I believe in live and let live” Father Noah protested, waving his hand. “Forgive my manners, please let’s go to my office.”
Sherlock stood his ground. “We won’t be long Father. I only want to know if Demons could possess a doll.”
“Oh, you came for the stories too, ehn?” Father Noah’s eyes widened. “I will tell you. But it’s a long tale. Are you sure you don’t want to come to my office or at least have something to drink?”
Sherlock sniffled the air.
“What did you say?”
“Don’t mind him Father. We’ll sit here. We won’t take too long.” I explained.
“Alright.” Father Noah pronounced as he sat on a pew and we took the one behind him.
“You see, I am well verse in these kinds of things. While at the seminary, my speciality was in superstitions, witchcraft and demonology…”
“The doll, Father.” Sherlock bellowed.
“Yes, the doll. My people have a saying, “When the gods want to punish someone, they’ll first of all make him go mad.”
I was aghast. A priest referencing superstitious beliefs?
“Syncretism, Watson.” Sherlock lectured when he figured out my surprise.
“As I was saying, when my brother came back with a foreign wife, I knew there would be trouble. You guys have your culture and traditions, we have ours. Over here, when a man gets married, he must perform some rituals to cleanse his home. Especially when he is not marrying from our tribe.”
“And I don’t suppose it occurs here.”
“No na. Haba Oga Sherlock. This is not a matter for the church. Anyway, I told my brother to go for the cleansing. Naturally he would have complied but that oyinbo wife he brought from London refused. She said it was superstitions and everything. First, the gods took their first child.”
“I thought the autopsy said it was an allergy that wasn’t attended to?” I chipped in.
“Allergy? No! I know these things. It was the works of the gods. After two years they gave birth to their second child, the daughter that died recently.”
“And that was when you decided to leave the clergy.”
Father Noah didn’t know if Sherlock was asking a question or making a statement. “Well, someone has to look after my brother’s company and preserve the family name.”
“If you were so concerned about family, why did you take the vow in the first place?”
Father Noah looked at Sherlock, wondering what prompted the question. “I felt the prodding of the Holy Spirit.”
“Oh. I see.”
Silence.
“You told the police that each time you were in the house, the baby would have nightmares.”
“No. I think you are getting it wrong. I told them that each time I spent the night over, both mother and child reported having nightmares. It has nothing to do with me. I am just a mere mortal. I’m not a spirit. How can I cause someone to have nightmares. How….”
“You don’t have to go too far Father. I think Sherlock was only trying to establish a connection that doesn't exist.” I said calmly.
“Tell me about the doll. How can a demon posses a doll?”
“Okay. I’ll tell you. I traveled from the cathedral that day to notice a strange doll in the driveway.”
“How did you know it was there. No else reported to have seen the doll.”
“Well, I don’t know. All I know is that when I saw the doll, I made the sign of the cross and then went into the house. While we were seeing off that evening, the girl saw the doll and decided she wanted to keep it. It was a crooked doll, you know. One of the eyes was gone, there was a red line along its face and it was missing a leg. It looked like something a dog had attacked.”
“So you noticed all of that from simply seeing the doll from afar?”
“Chineke! Don’t insult me Sherlock. Just as you are good at what you do, I am also good at what I do. I was trained to be sensitive and observant. Besides, the doll had an evil aura to it.”
“And you were the only one that could sense it.”
“Yes, I am a priest. Both African culture and catholic theology argee that inanimate objects can be possessed by demons. I am trained in these things. My grandfather was a powerful juju man before you white men came around. We know these things.”
“Who else was staying in the house at the time?
“No one. The house girl was away for the weekend.”
“You are referring to your cousin?” I asked.
“Well, since we are related, you can call her my cousin. But we are very far apart, you know. She is what you guys call a distant cousin. Very distant, you know.”
“So the demon…” Sherlock prodded.
“Aha! Yes. One look at that doll and I knew something was wrong. I warned them to throw the doll away but they didn’t listen. They preferred to indulgently listen to the crises of their little girl. They spoilt that girl, you know. Besides, they were both tending towards atheism. That was why they could allowed their daughter keep the doll. No Nigerian Christian will ever do that, I assure you. We are very sensitive people. We don’t play with our lives.”
Father Noah strained his neck. He had been sitting in a crooked position to ensure he had his face turned to us. I wonder if his fat throat had ever had to undergo such a torture.
“I knew it was a demon. You see, demons invade a home using the smallest link. In that instance, their daughter was the small link. Let me broaden your knowledge. My brother’s wife, Alice was an Anglican before she apostatized. Although she wasn’t born into the catholic church, her baptism at birth was able to keep her safe. My brother was born and bred a catholic. You must understand that the sacraments can never been undone. So although my bother and his wife were falling away, they were still protected. Right now, they are both in purgatory. But their daughter, their daughter…” He shook his head.
Sherlock suddenly stood up. “What about your distant cousin, the house girl, was she baptised too?”
“Yes” Father Noah replied raising his neck to look at Sherlock.
“Where is she now?”
“In the village. She returned to the village after the incident.”
Sherlock paced for a while.
“Watson, let’s go.” He announced as he walked off.
I hurriedly stood up, muttered my thanks to Father Noah and chased after Sherlock.
…..
It was almost evening when we arrived at the house. The house was situated in a one of the posh areas of the city. We introduced ourselves to the gate men and got in. There was a long drive way from the gate to the house. As we walked, we heard the low hum of a gardener spraying the lawn. Sherlock suddenly stopped and fixed his gaze on the gardener.
“Sherlock, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Phosphine gas.” He muttered.
“Phosphine gas?”
“Don’t you get it?” With that he walked off into the lawn and went to converse with the gardener. The gardener was spraying the lawn with some kind of pesticide. Suddenly, Sherlock began to run towards me like an excited three years old boy.
“Dear Watson. The case is solved. This is a clear case of accidental murder. The doll was discovered on the day the garden was sprayed with a pesticide. The gardener told me it is the same kind of pesticide he used that same day that he’s using today. I don’t know the name but I couldn’t loose the unmistakeable smell of Aluminium Phosphide.” Sherlock began to pace around excitedly.
“The doll obviously had some residue of the pesticide on it. What Father Noah called an evil aura must have been the smell from the doll. He’s observant aright, he just isn't knowledgeable.”
“Yes, a good time to show off”
Sherlock ignored me. “Whenever Aluminium Phosphide comes in contact with water, it emits a highly toxic gas called phosphine gas.”
It was then it made sense to me. The couple had been found in their daughter’s bathroom. All three of them dead. I then pulled out one of the pictures taken by the police. Beside the soap holder was the doll sitting majestically, looking on through its one eye as it slowly breathed its poison.
Truly, the doll was possessed but not by an evil spirit. It was possessed by Aluminium Phosphide sprayed on it by the gardener.
I felt the lone tear trickle down my face.
Thanks for reading.
Blessings
[Image source: pixabay]