Chapter 24: The Juju Package
Tuesday afternoon. I was minding my own business, sipping my leftover sobolo and watching a YouTube video on "How to Survive Life as a Creative in Ghana" (Step 1: Cry).
Then, the gate rattled.
Delivery man.
Parcel in hand.
I signed and brought it in — excited because I knew exactly what it was:
A tripod stand I ordered for shooting skits.
As I opened the brown box, ready to level up my content game…
Auntie Akos entered like a detective who smelled devilry.
"Ei! What's that??"
"It's just a tripod. For my videos."
She squinted at the long, black, folded legs of the stand.
"Hmm. It has legs but no head. Is it a spirit or a tool?"
Before I could blink, she snatched it from me, held it up like Simba in The Lion King and shouted:
"This one be juju, Samuel! They've sent you an evil staff!"
"Auntie please, it's not juju — it's for content creation! For holding my phone!"
She wasn't convinced.
"So this black staff holds phone? When our ancestors were alive, what was holding their phones? Nothing! They lived longer. You people now you want to hold spirit staff and make comedy. That's why your head dey hot."
She marched to the sink and started pouring blessed water on it.
My tripod was baptized against its will.
"I rebuke any ancestral demon inside! Come out!"
The poor delivery guy was still standing at the gate, watching this unfold like:
"Should I take it back?"
Then, to make matters worse, she added:
"If you had gone to school to be a nurse like your cousin Afia, you wouldn't be holding three-legged demon machines!"
"Auntie, the tripod is not from the underworld. It's from Jumia."
She ignored me and wrapped it in her shawl like a possessed child.
Later that evening, I found my tripod on the balcony — leaning against a Bible and a bottle of anointing oil.
Safe to say, the tripod will never record the same again.
End of Chapter 24