After filling the Vile Of The Condemned to the brim, I patched up my donor and left him in the dark. Just like his heart. Locking the door behind me I quickly made my way to the bathroom and placed the Vile Of The Condemned besides the bath. Someone had already filled the bath with luke warm water and placed aloe leaves inside which were floating at the top. I came back to the dining room to find Shuma had already had his clothes removed.

My sisters were sitting on the couch with their hands folded. Looking as if they had been waiting for a while for my return. Even the incense had burnt out. The oil pitch black with ash. They approached the chair and lifted Shuma's legs so they wouldn't touch the floor. That was the most important rule of removing someone from the chair after a ceremony. Apparently if the feet touch the ground before the next stage, their spirit is reminded that they are of the earth plane. They begin to have memories which shock them back to the waking world. I haven't found out yet how terrifying that must be. I hope I never do. I got behind Shuma and wrapped my arms underneath his then around his chest. I lifted him off the chair and we carried him to the bath.

My mother followed us and as we placed the body in the tub, she picked up the Vile Of The Condemned. "Open his mouth," she ordered. I slid into the tub. Straddling Shuma from the back. My added weight causing the water level to rise until some of it splashed out onto the concrete floor. Then I brought my hands up to his face and pried his mouth open. My mother inserted the curved tongue of the vile inside. Then forced it down his throat. As she did so, the blood began to move. She tilted it in accordance with the speed of the movement. My sisters were normally fidgety and touchy feely. Not at that moment. They stood as still as the walls beside them. It took at least 30 minutes to empty the vile. Rushing the process would cause the blood to clog up the throat then spill out the mouth. Meaning I would have to go and milk the cow some more. Doing that twice could kill the donor. And the receiver. I've seen it before. When I tried it with only my sisters and me.

I pried open this man's mouth this one time. We had found out that he was responsible for killing the villagers' chickens and hanging them on our fence while we slept. We were almost attacked by the mob. The villagers had blindly Believed that we were killing their chickens to perform dark ceremonies. Then rubbing it in their faces as a show of disrespect. A freak flood stopped the amassing mob before they could descend onto our house. Destroyed a lot of property and caused a lot of damage all round. We never had anybody even attempt to raise a hand against any of us after that day. Honestly speaking, we had nothing to with the flood. Co-incidence is a beautiful thing. It can save your life. But they still taunted us every chance they got. Well, when I'm not around anyway. Like I said before, they're a bunch of weak cowards.

He died that man. Let's ignore the fact that he was still snoring when we took to him to the bathroom. Or that he struggled, albeit with weak effort, as the liquid was poured down his throat. We did not know then, just as we don't now, the secret prayers. Nor were we able to recite the song of the Sheppard's using just the right words to say during the intervals. Then Lesedi lost her patience and began pouring too quickly. My and Naledi's inexperience allowed her to continue unhindered. The man reanimated when the blood poured out of his mouth for the third time. He literally choked to death from the blood that was still in his throat as he tried to regurgitate it. Flailing his arms. Trying to scream through the gurgling with no luck.

I could hear both of my sisters teeth chattering when the silence finally reigned the storm. Mine too. I can't lie it was the scariest thing I had ever seen. My mother reprimanded us sternly after that. We never tried it again. Not without adult supervision. I understood then why my mother is always so slow and careful when pouring. My father was careful too. My mother used to hold the mouths open then. I have taken my mother's place just as she has taken my fathers. My sisters have become little me's. We are happy being our mothers subordinates. Mom knows best. We found that out the terrifying way.