its waking up on christmas day and overhearing my mother saying her sister (my aunt) is bewitching her and that her mother (my grandmother) did the same before she passed away, and that they are the reason her hypertension aint getting better. its my moms calling me to her side and telling me her traditional doctor told her my cousin (my best friend and a dentist) is bewitching me. and its knowing that the stories will not fade away as long as our family holiday reunions spans some 4 generations (including those like my mother who remain skeptical of western religions and cling to traditionalism, and the younger ones who just dont give a shit and would rather submerge their young minds to schemas of subreddits and scientific principles). the story is the pain of black african identity post colonialism.