There is this really strange traditional therapy I'm undergoing now. Strange to me, that is, but not new to the people of my hometown, Mbaise in Imo State.
It actually started after my grandfather's burial in my hometown. At times, I would feel woozy and very tired that I won't do any other thing. Suddenly, I'll be well again.
One night, my mother asked me to get ₦2,000 and come with her. I did just that and she took me to a herbalist's. I was quite angry that she didn't tell me first (of course, I would object firmly), but I kept my cool and listened. My mother then asked me to give the cash to the man. The man then asked me to come the next day, which is an 'Eke' market day for the treatment is only giving on that day. I and my mother left. I said nothing to her.
The next morning at 6 a.m, my mother came to wake me up. I just washed my face and mouth, wore a simple cloth and headed for the herbalist's.
When I knocked on the door, he came out and asked me to sit in the hall and wait. Soon, his wife came out, holding a tiny jar containing a black liquid. She asked me to open my eyes wide, and as I did, she dipped the tip of her first finger into the liquid and put it in both eyes, under the supervision of her husband.
After about five seconds, madness came in. The pain in my eyes began to escalate and as I move to rub it, the herbalist told me not to. Instead, he said I should allow the tears wash the liquid away.
I couldn't keep my eyes open but the tears flowed anyways. The tiny crystals like sand in the liquid hurt my eyes as I kept them shut most times. The pain set fire to my brain. I endured this for what seemed like eternity (but surely not more than twenty minutes). Soon, the woman came with a brown concoction in a tiny cup and asked me to drink it. I drank it in one gulp and although it was bitter, the pain in my eyes didn't let me notice it.
A few minutes later, she came out again with a tiny bark from a tree I definitely don't know. She asked me to chew it and swallow the juice continuously. Still in pain, I plopped the stick in my mouth and chewed it, concentrating on making the peppery feeling in my eyes go away. My God, the stick is the complete definition of 'BITTER!'. I frowned immediately and opened my left eye to see the herbalist watching me. I kept on chewing and swallowing, not knowing where to focus my endurance on; the pain in my eyes or the bitter bark in my mouth.
After some time, the woman came and asked me to clean my eyes with my shirt, which I gratefully did. She then asked me to shut my eyes tight. I did this, wondering which type of torment would be next. I saw her carry a liquid white paste while she came in and she rubbed it on my tightly shut eye brows. Then she asked me to open them.
By now, the pains had subsided quite noticably, leaving the annoyingly bitter taste from the 'thing' in my mouth. I proceeded to check out my new look in my blank phone screen and I saw that the paste made a border around each eye, making me look like a hebalist in movies. I decided there and then that I must follow the bush paths home.
She finally came out again with some leaves bound in cocoyam leaves and held fast with raffia fibres. She asked me to boil them in water and after allowing the steam to cloud my body for some minutes, that I should bath with it for four days, after which I would return for a fresh treatment and fresh leaves for the next four days. Then I was told I could leave.
I left. Immediately I was out of sight, I spat out the stick and hurried home before those who knew me would see me in this 'cosmetics'.
Today is the 3rd Eke market day since I begun the therapy. Although it is raining now, I'm looking forward to going for it. Having stayed here long enough, I've learnt the foolishness in doubting igbo beliefs, customs and traditions with careless abandon.

THE REASON

I had the most direct contact with my grandfather, since the death of his wife three years ago, till he died on Sept 27th.
It is believed that the woozy distracted feelings I was experiencing are onsets of what happens when one takes care of a person (young or elderly), till his/her death. It is believed that the blood of that person will disturb the person and may result in death.
I'ld have doubted it due to 'hearsay' but I just witnessed an aunt who lost her baby in Mozambique two months after delivery, go through the same phase. When she first arrived Nigeria, her mental and bodily health were far from normal, but now as we speak, she is preparing to go back to join her husband. The alarming part is that clinical examination and diagnosis shows up nothing!!
That's Igbo beliefs for you. As I write, a recent event comes to mind. A staunch 'christian' claimed not to believe in any traditional bullshit. He went ahead to give his mother food and drinks used on his father's burial day, saying nothing will happen. His mother will be buried next week, according to her obituary poster I saw yesterday.