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 I used to pray every night. I would kneel beside the bed and cry for my marriage. For peace. For my mother in law’s health. For my husband’s job.

I thought I was doing the right thing.

She had moved in with us after falling sick. My husband said she needed care. I said yes without thinking twice. I cooked for her. Washed her clothes. Bathed her once when the house girl ran away.

I believed she was just old and tired.

But then strange things started happening.

My hair began falling off in chunks. I would wake up and find clumps on the pillow. I went to hospital. They said it was stress.

I started hearing footsteps at night. But every time I peeped through the window, the compound was empty.

One night, I walked past her room and heard her mumbling. Not praying. Chanting. The words were not in any language I knew.

I ignored it. Maybe it was a dream.

But when I told my best friend Carol, she said, “Chebet, don’t be blind. Some of these old women pretend to be sick just to finish you slowly.”

I laughed. I said, “That’s my husband’s mum.”

But then came the big one. to  read more click here