The end of the glasman is nigh

I can remember a professional man who died in my village a few years ago.
Upon the sad news of his death the family called a glasman (witch doctor).
Bamboo in hand, hungry and in need of money, it took him only a moment to produce his result.
“The wife,” he said, pointing his bamboo stick at her direction.
The charge was made.
Who could condemn such a charge?
Who could save her?
The sentence was given.
Her own family and friends moved in to kill their mother, auntie and friend.
She had to be dead.
Blood relationship notwithstanding.
The conniving glasman with some K200 in hand, rejoiced over his day’s work.
He could now buy a nice 20kg bag of rice with that, lots of tin fish and satisfy a lot of bellies with his hard labour.
The cruel injustice of his act.
Papua New Guinea has reestablished the death penalty.
One day, I imagine, glasman will be filled into a waiting cell awaiting their own turn to die.
The blood of countless mothers and grandmothers are on their hands.
For now, this glasman is able to continue his evil work free from fear of prosecution.

Singe Mamuve