In the village of Kadjèvi, Togo, the birth of a child is far more than a mere family event-it is a bridge between the world of the living and that of the spirits. Every newborn must undergo a
ceremony called Sénou, an ancestral rite that reveals their spiritual bond with the ancestors and protective deities of the village.
But for Komla, born on a stormy night, this tradition was neglected. His parents,
city dwellers who had returned to the village briefly for the delivery, dismissed these rites as outdated
superstitions. They quickly left Kadjèvi with their child, without consulting the elders or performing the Sénou.

Komla grew up as an ordinary boy in the city of Lomé. He was studious, loved
football, and dreamed of becoming an engineer. But at the age of 15, strange symptoms began to surface. He endured sleepless nights, hearing voices murmuring in a language he couldn’t understand. Sometimes, his body would seize up without warning, causing him to collapse into
violent convulsions.
Doctors diagnosed epilepsy. His parents spent fortunes on consultations, medications, and prayers. Yet nothing worked.
The seizures kept returning, growing more intense and inexplicable. He began having visions: shadowy figures dancing around a fire, a drumbeat echoing in his mind, and an old man he didn’t
recognize offering him a calabash filled with a dark liquid.
At 17, Komla suffered a seizure so severe that it nearly killed him. This time, a neighbor, an elderly man named Togbé Koudjo, urged the family to stop relying on modern treatments and seek the wisdom of the village elders.

Desperate, his parents agreed. They returned to Kadjèvi, where the elders performed a mystical consultation using cowrie shells and chicken sacrifices. The revelation was chilling: Komla was the spiritual chosen one of their lineage.
His spirit had been marked at birth to become the successor of Djegbé, the powerful voodoo deity that protected the village. But without the Sénou rite, he was like a king without a crown, wandering between two worlds and unable to find peace. The seizures were manifestations of the spirits demanding their due: Komla had to assume his role as the village’s voodoo priest, or he would perish.

Komla adamantly refused. “Me, a voodoo priest?!” he shouted. He wanted a normal life, far from traditions and spirits.
But his decision came with dire consequences.
Komla’s nights turned into living nightmares. He woke up drenched in sweat,
his body covered in red marks resembling claw scratches. The spirits manifested in his room: shadows danced across the walls, eerie chants called his name. He began wasting away, teetering on the brink of madness.
Terrified, his parents finally agreed to meet the spirits’ demands. But it wasn’t
so simple. The spirits, enraged by years of neglect, required a perilous ritual to grant forgiveness.
On a full moon night, Komla was brought beneath the sacred iroko tree of
Kadjèvi, the heart of the village’s voodoo cult. The elders, dressed in white cloth, traced intricate symbols on the ground with kaolin powder. At the center, an altar had been erected, adorned with skulls, calabashes, and wooden fetishes.
Komla, terrified but resigned, was placed before the altar. Togbé Koudjo,
holding a sacrificial knife, whispered, “We will summon Djegbé. If he accepts your return, you will be saved. If not, your soul will be lost forever.”
The ritual began. Drums thundered, incantations filled the air, and a dense fog
enveloped the iroko. Komla felt an invisible force pinning him to the ground. His eyes rolled back, and a deep, unfamiliar voice emerged from his mouth:
“You have ignored me for too long. But this child is mine. If he accepts me, he will live. If he refuses, he will die.”
In a trance, Komla saw Djegbé in his true form: an immense figure of flames
and shadows. The spirit extended a hand toward him. Komla awoke on the brink of death. His body was cold, but his mind had made a decision: he could no longer run. At that moment, he accepted his role-not out of faith, but to survive.

He underwent initiation for three days and nights in the forest under Togbé Koudjo’s guidance. When he reappeared in the village, he was no longer the same. The seizures ceased, but his eyes seemed to see beyond this world.
Komla became the village’s voodoo priest, living a double life: that of a modern young man and that of a servant of the spirits. Though he found a measure of peace, he remained haunted by one question: had he truly chosen this path, or had the spirits simply taken what was theirs? Komla’s story serves as a chilling reminder to the people of Kadjèvi: no one can escape the obligations of their
ancestors. To ignore the call of voodoo is to defy unseen forces. And in such
battles, mortals never win.

Tony Hemrix