The Curandero

The curandero listened intently to the woman as she sobbed.

Covered in a multicolored veil typically used by older Hispanic women, she was telling the curandero her story of sleepless nights, of nights filled with nightmares. She then pulled back the sleeves of her loose fitting blouse to reveal arms covered with black and blue bruises. The woman lifted her blouse slightly to reveal the same thing on her stomach and abdomen, and assured the curandero that her entire body was covered with the bruises, including her face, which she revealed as she pulled back the paño.

The woman said she just couldn’t understand what was ailing her but that she had been advised to check with him because of her ailments.

The wizened curandero assured her that he knew what was ailing her – possession. In a serious tone, the curandero informed the elderly woman that someone was attempting to gain control of her soul. Seeing she was troubled by the news, he assured her that he would begin various rituals that would assist in releasing her from the grasp of whoever was attempting to capture her soul.

The old curandero knew the he was contending with the strong powers of a witch who was using a malevolent magic against the woman. He knew he had to be careful in confronting the powers of such a person; otherwise he himself could fall under the sway of such a powerful enchantress.

He sent the woman home with a poultice to apply to her bruises with instructions to recite specific prayers as she applied the mixture. Additionally, he told her how to arrange various religious icons throughout her sleeping quarters. He then took a lock of hair from the woman that he would need during the night.

His last instructions were emphatic and stern – do not answer should anyone call out her name. He told the woman to return in a week.

The woman thanked the curandero and went home to prepare herself and apply the poultice. After the woman left, the curandero began to prepare for the coming night, as he knew he would be battling a sorceress. As night fell, he began to recite prayers and a ritual in a room prepared with religious icons and candles.

After he had arranged in a circle all the objects he needed, he placed the locks of the woman within the circle. As he focused his prayers on the lock of hair, he could sense the approach of a storm. The wind began to increase, he could hear the whistling of the wind, the rustle of the leaves as the wind whipped the branches to and fro.

As the curandero continued with his prayers, always focusing on the lock of hair, he could hear his dog barking in the background, he could make out the squawking of the chickens even though they should be sleeping.

The pattern was repeated for five nights, with the curandero in prayer and ritual while the nightly storms blew away anything not securely anchored. The animals appeared each day more haggard than the next, the dog barely coming out from beneath the house, the chickens looking semi-plucked with missing feathers and not laying eggs.

On the sixth day there was a knock on the door. The curandero opened the door to a stranger with a wide brimmed hat that hung low over the face of the individual. The appearance was that of a man, or a large woman, the curandero could not exactly tell.

The arms of the stranger were folded over their lower chest while a cloak covered their body to within a couple of inches of the ground. The curandero invited the stranger into the reception area of the house and with some hesitation, the stranger entered only just beyond the threshold of the door. When invited further into the curandero’s personal study the stranger demurred, remained standing, maintaining a distance of approximately three feet from the curandero.

The curandero asked how he might assist the stranger. The stranger, with head semi-lowered, the curandero could only make out a shadowy outline of a face.

“Why are you interfering?” was the question.

“How am I interfering, asked the curandero?

“Her soul belongs to me,” was the reply.

“Her soul belongs to God, replied the curandero. “I am simply helping her with her current problem.”

With that the stranger angrily replied, “You are the problem,” at the same time opening the cloak revealing a huge black cat which lunged at the curandero with its front paws reaching out as though attempting to scratch.

The curandero bolted backwards as a sudden dust devil pasted the house carrying debris and dirt; causing the trees to sway violently; the dog cowered under the house; the chickens were scattered from their roosts, feathers and straw being picked up as the whirlwind disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

The dirt raised by the whirlwind had caused the curandero to turn his head and squint his eyes. As he now turned back towards the door he noticed that that the stranger with the wide brimmed hat was no longer there. He looked at his arms and could detect three thin cuts on each of his forearms running lengthwise for approximately four inches. He applied an herbal mixture he maintained and placed light bandages over the thin cuts. He then set about cleaning and rearranging the clutter left by the whirlwind.

The following day the elderly woman returned carrying a burlap sack. She smiled as she was greeted by the curandero. “How are you buen Señor,” asked the woman.

“I am well,” was the reply. “I see you have regained your strength, how are your bruises?”

“They have disappeared, and last night I finally slept well.”

The woman proceeded to tell the curandero of the terrible nightmares during the week. Each night, in the darkness of the nightmares, a figure would appear calling her name.

Nevertheless, in the recesses of her mind she remembered the instructions of the curandero and refused to answer. The nightmares had ceased last night and she had slept profoundly.

“I wish to thank you for your help, but I am a poor woman.”

“I do not charge for my services,” was the reply, “besides it is not I that has helped you, but God, it is He who has interceded on your part, I am but one of many means through which his benevolence is provided.”

“Well, be that as it may, I am grateful for your help and as a token of my appreciation I want to give you my best laying hen.”

With that, she pulled the chicken out of the sack and handed it to the curandero. “Many thanks,” replied the curandero, “and may you live in peace.”

As the woman walked away, the curandero took the gift to the chicken coop and placed it with the rest of the small flock he had.

The sun was shining; it was going to be a beautiful day; he checked the chicken roosts and found some eggs – the first in a week.

He savored a breakfast with fresh eggs; yes, it was going to be a beautiful day.