“I accept your explanation of witchcraft, but I don’t think Elizabeth is guilty of anything.”

“Ah,” Isaac said with a knowing smile. “That’s because she has charmed you. That too is something witches do very well.”

ABOUT A DOZEN PEOPLE WERE standing around outside the entrance of Augustus Ayitey’s house. Gifty was not going to be dealing with the long wait that 99 percent of these clients would have to endure. She was a VIP customer who got preferential treatment, especially since she gave Mr. Ayitey and his assistants a nice dash every year at Christmastime.

Gifty confidently walked up to the front screen door and knocked. A few moments later the head of the assistant poked out, and as soon as she saw who it was, she invited Gifty and Hosiah in.

Mr. Ayitey practiced in his rear courtyard, where there was a collection of makeshift enclosures and overhead canvas coverings. People were standing or sitting around being treated or waiting to be. There was a strong smell of herbs and animal flesh. Gifty and Hosiah were shepherded into one of enclosures and asked to sit on the wooden stools.

Gifty hugged Hosiah. “See? Isn’t this interesting?”

He looked around, eyes wide. There was a mat on the ground and a pot boiling on a stove in the corner. “What’s that, Granny?”

“That’s where they make some of the medicines.”

“Oh.” He wrinkled his nose. “It stinks.”

“That’s because the medicine is very strong.”

It was another thirty minutes before Mr. Ayitey came in. He was a big, bald man with a wide, vertical scar on his left cheek. Gifty felt Hosiah flinch and press back into her.

Ayitey smiled broadly. He had a large gap between his upper front teeth.

“Madame Gifty! How are you on this fine day?” He spoke Ga, and his voice came out of him like a slingshot.

“Very well, Mr. Ayitey, thank you.” She laughed pleasantly.

Ayitey sat on the stool opposite them.

“Every time I see you, you look better and better,” he said to her. “Are you getting younger?”

“Oh, stop,” Gifty said, enjoying his playfulness.

“So this is the boy you told me about,” Ayitey said.

“Yes, this is Hosiah, my grandson.”

Ayitey held out his hand to Hosiah.

“Greet Mr. Ayitey,” Gifty urged, giving him a gentle push.

Hosiah shook hands the way he had always been taught, but he was staying very close to Granny.

“And you say he has some heart trouble?” Ayitey asked her.

“Well, the doctors at Korle-Bu say he has a hole in the heart.”

“Eh-heh. I see. Come here, little boy.” He held his hand out.

Hosiah looked up at Gifty.

“It’s all right,” she said.

He moved tentatively toward Ayitey.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Hosiah,” Gifty said.

Ayitey pulled Hosiah’s shirt up over his head and gave it to Gifty. He put his ear to Hosiah’s chest. She watched intently. The herbalist, her herbalist, turned Hosiah this way and that, listening to his chest and stomach, touching him all over, from head to limbs.

“When he runs,” Ayitey asked Gifty, “he can’t breathe well?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Eh-heh. I see.” He flicked his fingertips along the bottom of his chin as if his skin was itching. “What trouble is in the family?”

“His father’s mother disappeared many years ago-no one knows what happened to her. And the boy’s uncle is paralyzed.”

“Do you know of any curse on the family?”

“I am sure there’s no curse on my side, but as for his side, I don’t know.”

Hosiah came gladly back to Gifty as she waited patiently for Ayitey to give his diagnosis.

“No, it’s not any hole in his heart,” he said abruptly.

“Is that so, Mr. Ayitey?” Gifty was thrilled. “I knew it!”

“Evil spirits are disturbing the boy,” Ayitey went on. “They have entered his chest because that is a favorite place for them to stay. So when he is trying to run, they are taking his air.”

“Ao, mercy!” Gifty exclaimed under her breath.

“Also, the evil spirits like to go in and out of his heart; that’s why it is making some noises there and not beating well.”

Gifty was nodding slowly. “Can you sack evil spirits from his body?”

“Yes,” Ayitey said. “First thing is we wash the boy with water in which we have put abatasu leaves from the Shai Hills. That will take the disturbing spirits away.”

“Yes, I see.”

“Then he will drink the ashes of the nereyu plant with hot water. That will repair the damage done to his heart.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ayitey, thank you.”

He went out to get the treatments ready. A few minutes later, a young woman assistant brought a large metal pan of water wide enough for Hosiah to stand in. Ayitey came right behind her with a bunch of the dark green abatasu leaves in his hand. He dropped them in the water and stirred them around.

“All right,” Ayitey said. “Now take off the rest of the boy’s clothes.”

“Granny, what are they going to do?”

“They’re just going to give you a bath with that special water,” Gifty said, starting to pull down his pants.

He clutched at them and tried to stop her. “But I had a bath this morning, Granny,” he protested. “I don’t want another bath.”

She took his face between her hands. “Sweetie, we have to do this because Mr. Ayitey knows it will make you better.”

“No,” Hosiah said. “I don’t want to. Can we go home now, Granny?”

“We have to hurry up a little bit, Madame Gifty,” Ayitey said, impatience creeping into his voice. He ordered the assistant to help.

Gifty yanked Hosiah’s shorts down, and the assistant pulled them off completely. Hosiah began to cry.

“Shh, shh, come on now,” Gifty said. “It’s just a little bath, Hosiah.”

He pulled away from her. “No!”

She swept him up in her arms, but he executed a trick that all children know, stretching his arms above his head and kicking his legs straight out so he became like a stiff board that slid out of her hands like butter. The instant his feet touched the ground, he backed away to make his escape, but Ayitey and the assistant were ready for him. He grabbed Hosiah by the arms, and she took his feet. He was screaming and kicking as they got him to the pan. For a moment, the assistant lost hold of his feet.

“Hold him!” Ayitey yelled at her.

She got him back.

“Put him inside,” Ayitey grunted. “Inside.”

They pushed him into the water in the pan, and Hosiah bucked and kicked. Ayitey pressed his head down and leaned on his shoulders.

“Wash his body, wash his body, quick,” he shouted at the assistant.

She struggled to rub him down with the water, but the wetter Hosiah’s skin became, the slicker it was. From where Gifty stood, the fight was a blur of small, flailing limbs.

Hosiah came up coughing and choking. He took a deep, desperate breath that sounded like a whoop, and then he looked at Gifty standing by and his eyes asked her, Why don’t you help me?

“Okay, okay,” Ayitey said desperately “We’ve washed him enough. Now we give him the nereyu.”

They picked Hosiah up bodily. He was slippery and difficult to grasp as his legs kicked like little pistons. They brought him down to the mat.

Ayitey looked appealingly at Gifty. “Madam, we need your help, please. Hold his legs.”

Gifty’s stomach lurched. She knelt down and held on to her grandson’s ankles. She heard herself saying, “Mr. Ayitey, I want to stop. It’s enough, please.”

Ayitey either ignored her or did not hear her. He told the assistant to proceed. She reached for a small calabash beside the mat, swirled it around a few times, and poured a dark grainy liquid into a spoon. She held Hosiah’s head tight in preparation to force-feed the medicine down his gullet. She suddenly snatched her hand away, and her eyes went wide as she saw blood in her palm.