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newspaper, wraps it up, and hands it to me. “Steep it in boiling water. She must drink it three times a day until the swelling goes down.”
    When I take the folded up newspaper, her hand rests lightly on top of mine. “There’s something else, is it, Khosi?” Inkosikazi Nene and Gogo have been friends for many years. She feels like another grandmother to me. To know that she’s on our side and we can always seek out her help…it means the world to me.
    My throat is dry. The rustling sound becomes a low whistle.
    â€œAs soon as you walked inside this room, the spirits started shouting all at once,” she says.
    â€œIs that…is that the whistling sound?” I ask.
    Her fingers tighten on my wrist. “You can hear it?”
    â€œOnly a little. What are they saying?”
    â€œThey’re saying you’re in danger, little Khosi. Tell me why. Do you know why?”
    I swallow. “Do you know that old woman who lives in the two-story house at the top of the hill, near the water tank, just before you reach the Zionist church? The woman that everybody says turns people into zombies?”
    She nods.
    â€œYesterday, when I walked Gogo to our neighbor’s funeral, she spoke
to me. She told me she’s coming for me and nothing on earth can stop her. She dug her fingernails into my arm.” I hold out my forearm for Inkosikazi Nene to show off the shallow gouge, already scabbing over. “Do you think…do you think she’s cursed me? I had a terrible dream last night that she came and challenged me to a fight. I don’t want to fight her!”
    Inkosikazi Nene reaches behind her and grabs a large stick of dried impepho . Lighting it, she waves the smoke in front of her nose, breathing in deeply, closing her eyes, and humming.
    I start to speak again, but she holds up her hand to stop me.
    At last, she opens her eyes. “It is almost true, what that old woman said,” she says. “Almost.”
    â€œWhat part is true?”
    â€œShe is coming for you, that is true. And I cannot stop it. I do not know what is going to happen, Khosi. I can give you some muthi ; I do not know if it will help. But my spirits are telling me that there is somebody who can stop her.”
    I hold my breath.
    â€œThey are saying it is you, Khosi. With the help of your ancestors, you can stop her.”
    Something claws and scrabbles inside of my stomach. “I’m like a rat which the cat plays with. How can I stop her? She’s a witch!”
    She folds her hands across her stomach. “You must remember to honor your ancestors every day, to make sure they are protecting you,” she says. “Offer a little food and drink to them in the evenings and thank them for what they do for you. They will help you. That is what they are saying.”
    I stumble out of the hut, Gogo’s muthi clutched tight in my hands. Perhaps the words Inkosikazi Nene spoke to me should fill me with confidence. But they don’t. How could anybody think that I can stop a powerful witch? A witch with an army of zombies working for her?

CHAPTER SIX
    VISITING LITTLE MAN
    Instead of going straight home, I head towards Little Man’s house, cutting through a corner alley behind Mama Thambo’s shebeen . The blue light of the television spills out through the open door, where two men are lighting up and smoking dagga . The sweet odor drifts towards me. Inside, men and women are cheering for Bafana Bafana, South Africa’s soccer team.
    I wander past, ignoring the cat calls from the men standing outside. I’m deep in thought about what the sangoma told me. Usually, a visit to the sangoma is so comforting—either there’s nothing wrong or she can help you fix it. But today…
    When I look up, I can already see Little Man’s yellow matchbox from a distance, crowded up against the houses next to it. His mother is growing a garden in the front yard; the corn