The Good One and the Cursed One

Set in the precolonial kingdom of Gisaka, this work of fiction by Rwandan writer and editor Lucky Grace Isingizwe, whose work has appeared in the Caine Prize anthology and Flame Tree's African Ghost Stories, follows the story of twin sisters whose childhood rivalry gradually hardens into accusation, punishment, and lasting harm. Drawing on storytelling traditions attentive to folklore, belief, and moral ambiguity, the narrative moves across decades and regions, staging witchcraft and healing as lived practices through which jealousy, gendered expectation, and authority are negotiated. As the story progresses, it invites readers to consider how communities come to set good and evil, and how collective fear can transform close conflict into sanctioned violence.

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Gisaka, centuries before it was conquered by the kingdom of Rwanda, a man and a woman gave birth to twin girls. They named the elder one Gatemanyi and the younger one Gatembasi but at home, they were just Gakuru and Gato.

Gakuru was loud, eccentric, and mischievous while Gato was quiet, kind, and good natured. This led their mother and father to favor Gato over Gakuru. As they grew, Gakuru 3 became jealous of all the attention and praise bestowed upon her younger sister and bullied her. She would pinch Gato, box her ears, and slap her for no reason when no one else was looking. Gato would run to their mother, who would shout and sometimes cane Gakuru for this. But Gakuru would do it again the next day, and on their cat and mouse play went.

One day, Gato ran to their elder brother and cried that her sister wouldn’t stop pulling at her hair. The brother looked Gato over, and in a calm voice said, “Muko, nutarwana intambara zawe ntawe uzazikurwanirira!!” If you don’t fight for yourself, nobody else will. When their mother had gone to their garden on the mountain next to the valley beneath their hut, Gato walked to their aunt’s. The aunt who was said to be a witch. The very next day, Gakuru pulled Gato from her wooden dolls swung her around until she felt dizzy, fell and scrapped her knees. By then, Gato was bawling.

In the dark when everyone was sleeping, Gato rose from her bed mat, retrieved a cup of caterpillars she had brought back from her aunt’s, and placed three of them on Gakuru’s legs as she snored. A few minutes later, Gakuru woke up screaming, and rousing the entire house from their sleep. Soon their mother rushed in with the light and they discovered the caterpillars. Gakuru spent a few days crying for her beautiful legs, now smeared with reddish bumps.

A few days after Gakuru’s bruises had started to show tiny black lines, no longer itching, Gato woke up scratching her hand furiously, only to touch a snake looping around her neck. After screaming for what felt and sounded like eternity, she fainted.

Decades later, during the reign of King Mutuminka, as if you could tell a king to go fetch cows, the twins had gone their separate ways, each of them a witch in her own right, and settled on opposite sides of the kingdom. Gakuru resided in Ntarama in the north-west, and Gato stayed in Rweru in the south-east. One day, a shadow that Gakuru had set on Gato years before brought 4 word that Gato was caring for the king’s new woman who was pregnant. Gakuru stood up and threw the bowl in which she had been concocting a poison at the pole that supported the roof of her hut.

Early the next morning, she woke up and packed a few things and journeyed for several days to Rweru, where her sister lived. In her career as a witch, no one really knew what Gakuru’s face looked like. And that was because every day before she left her house, she applied white powder all over her face, carried her hair in a single half long braid, and put on a hat made of dried reeds and wood fibers that sometimes dangled from the top. This time however, she applied none of that. When she neared the area, people came to her and thanked her for the medicine that she had given them days or weeks before or thanked her for teaching their daughters. She played the part really well when they referred to her as Gatembasi, Gato’s real name. Unbeknownst to them, this was no Gatembasi but Gatemanyi. In Rweru, Gato was called umuvuzi, a healer. People came to her for medicine, herbs, potions, and cleansing crystals. She spoke to their ancestors on their behalf, and she often led guterekera ceremonies for different families in the village.

In the first four days that Gakuru was in Rweru, she learned of her sister’s patterns: what time she was at home, what time she left, where she went, when she came back, and when she went and came back from the palace. Gakuru also collected herbs and venoms, and pounded, extracted, mixed, cooked, and cooled them.

On the fifth day, Gakuru traveled out of Rweru to Nyamata where the palace was. At the gate, she was allowed in and led to the king’s woman now six months pregnant. Gakuru inspected her stomach, and told the wife she thought her baby would be a girl. The wife confessed that she wished the child would be a boy. Gakuru suggested giving her a medicine 5 that would help her give birth to a boy the next time. And offered it. “Then, shouldn’t I drink this after I’ve given birth?” asked the wife

The witch said, “Yes. You could do that. But I advise to drink it while you’re still pregnant.”

“But won’t it be bad for the baby?”

“This is actually why I suggest drinking it now. While it helps your body do what’s necessary to bring forth a boy, it has an added benefit. If you take it now, it will also work on your baby, and she will be born with the most beautiful features. Don’t you want her to be the most beautiful girl in the kingdom?”

The wife snatched the wooden bottle and downed the potion in one go. Once she had swallowed, she said, “Your voice sounds different today.”

To which the witch said, “I have a dry cough; I always do when I’m expecting.” The woman smiled and congratulated her with the regular greeting, “Gira abana,” to which Gakuru said, “Gira umugabo n’amashyo.”

That night, when the king’s woman felt the child inside her turning and kicking violently, she ran to him and cried out that the healer Gatembasi had given her strange medicine that afternoon. She then felt her daughter die, and as she mournfully screamed out for her, she started vomiting and she didn’t stop until her cries choked the vomiting in her throat and she was taken by the brief seizing of her now swollen body.

Before being in a frozen stance as he watched his wife die, the king had sent for Abiru in an emergency meeting. Given that Gatembasi was one of the most powerful witches in the kingdom despite her brand as a healer, King Mutuminka feared that if the kingdom attacked her, she would use evil magic that would haunt the kingdom for decades to come. But then his 6 woman had started to vomit and he panicked. He called out for his mother then. But by the time she arrived, his wife had died. The queen mother held his son, and whispered consolations in his ear.

Upon listening to his mother, Mutuminka sent soldiers, armed with spears, shields and bows, to Rweru. They arrived on an early morning and waited for Gatembasi to leave. When they saw her disappear down a path, umugaba w’ingabo stood between Gato’s two huts and called out in greeting, “Muraho aba hano!” “Muraho yemwe,” A woman’s voice answered and she emerged from beneath the archway of the hut, the dry tendrils that decorated the entrance of the hut touching the crown of her long grey hair ever so slightly. Then, the remaining soldiers came out of their hiding. They impaled the mother with a spear right at the moment when her granddaughter was emerging from the hut. She ran back inside screaming.

On her way back from the forest in the valley below her huts, Gatembasi saw a lot of smoke and heard piercing screams. Dropping her basket of herbs, nuts and tubers, she ran and found her huts burning, almost to ashes. The bodies of her two sons, her three daughters, her husband and her mother were laying haphazardly on the ground. When she shrieked in horror, a hush fell over the villagers who had gathered. She ran to her youngest and held her. Then, the soldiers appeared once more out of nowhere, pushed neigbours away and captured Gato. They tied her arms with sturdy rope and practically dragged her to Nyamata.

In Nyamata, drums were beat, beckoning villagers near and from afar. The kingdom was mourning. Gatembasi, with tear-streaked cheeks, saw a branchless tree that had been freshly thrusted into the ground, twigs and dry grass in a heap around it. Arms tied at her back and her ankles fastened on the tree with a rope was, she watched villagers watch her. They knew her face, she knew theirs, yet she could tell even they couldn’t fathom what it was that she, the 7 good witch of Rweru, had done. Their lips were burning with conversation and the crowd grew by the hour. The shadow that Gatembasi had set for Gakuru finally showed up, stood a few meters before her and whispered, “Mumbabarire, Mubyeyi ndabinginze. Ni impanga yawe yabikoze. Umugore w’umwami n’umwana we bapfuye. Ndabinginze mumbabarire. Amaze kuva iwe byantwaye igihe kirekire kongera kumubona.” I’m so sorry, Madam. It was your twin sister who did this. The king’s wife and her baby are dead. Please forgive me. It took me too long to find her after she left her village.” Seeing the captain of the soldiers arrive, the shadow fled into the crowd.

It was in that moment when Gatembasi finally took off the face of mourning and a calm descended onto her face. She observed the soldiers and the servants from the palace carrying chairs and tables for the king and Abiru. Her eyes locked in on one boy whom she knew to be strong; she remembered that he was a son of one of the king’s advisers. She searched his eyes and when they locked, she whispered an incantation. The boy stood at attention, put down a chair, walked towards the witch, his eyes slightly cast down as Gatembasi whispered more powerfully a longer incantation. The boy swiftly undid the ropes around her legs and arms. The onlookers in shock were only aaahing, oohing, and oh my goding, until one of the soldiers saw Gatembasi and the boy running towards them, determined to get to the exit. The soldier lifted a spear, the boy maneuvered to take it away from him and stabbed him with it. In the commotion of running away, the boy shielded the witch from every soldier with his body and spear, while the witch brandished the wind with her hands to throw away the arrows aimed at them. Until she saw an arrow protrude from the boy’s stomach.

Her spell now lifted, pain and confusion overtook the boy’s face, and Gatembasi quickly whispered words one last time. The boy fell asleep dead, while Gatembasi continued her escape. She hid through thickets of bushes, in branches of trees, in people’s huts – unbeknownst to them, in valleys, on mountains, inside tiny caves, and in grass by bodies of 8 water. She walked and ran distances. She dogged arrows and spears. Days and weeks went by. She crossed the kingdom and found refuge in the kingdom of Rwanda.

News of a witch called Gatembasi who had killed the king’s wife and unborn child and who had escaped her execution spread. When the gossip reached Ntarama, Gakuru smiled to herself. She had won. Finally. Ever since she’d gotten a snake to bite Gato, she’d never won a thing between them. Until now.

Back then, Gato had nearly died. And then, Gakuru’s life became a nightmare. Their family shunned her. She lived inside the hut, but she was insulted, ridiculed, and beaten whenever she spoke, moved or did anything remotely mischievous. The only good that came out of it was the discovery of her witchcraft abilities. When their aunt heard what had happened, she arrived and had a talk with the twins. Gakuru had feared her aunt. Growing up she’d heard a rumour that her aunt turned a man into a tree. A cousin even took Gakuru and Gato to see the supposed tree. She didn’t want to be a tree, much less one without leaves and holes for eyes and a mouth. That’s why she hid in the bush that day. After calling and calling, her aunt stood from her stool and came out to find her. When she spoke, Gakuru realized there was no anger or scolding in her voice. Instead, she asked Gakuru about the snake and how come it didn’t bite her. Gakuru came from behind a low tree and said, “But snakes love me; why would they hurt me?”

“Snakes don’t love human beings, darling.”

“Well, I know that now. Gato gets cold and gets grossed out easily. I was only trying to scare her. I didn’t think it could bite her. I play with them quite a lot; they’ve never bitten me.”

Soon afterwards, their aunt started teaching them witchcraft. Gakuru was happy once again. But her happiness was short-lived. Gato was better at making all the potions their aunt 9 asked them to make. She was praised by their aunt. And Gakuru was taught again and again the names, the colors, the shades, and the uses of herbs and how to mix them properly, how to cook them, and so forth. She stopped going to learn.

One day, on her way from collecting water from the well, Gakuru met a wounded snake. She nearly knocked over her the clay pot of water as she put it down, picked up the snake and ran to her aunt’s.

“Please! Save it.” Gakuru begged

Her aunt took it from her hands, inspected the wound at its neck and said, “I can’t, darling. It’s too late.”

“Then do magic!”

“Witchcraft is not sorcery, my dear. And sorcery is not good.”

Sadness filling her heart, Gakuru said, “Maybe one of Gato’s medicines can cure him?”

“Yes,” said the aunt. “But only if you had found him as soon as he was injured. He’s been like this for hours, dear; it’s too late for him.” She added, “But, I know what we can do."

She then showed Gakuru how to extract venom from a snake. And how to make a poison out of it.

Gakuru asked, “I hear that poisons are bad. Why would you show me how to make one?”

“It’s true my daughter. Poisons are bad. They make people sick. They kill. But they are also good, for they can save.”

And that’s how Gakuru found her niche. Gato worked on her medicines. Gakuru worked on her poisons. When they grew older, Gato became the healer, and Gakuru became a 10 witch even though people bought poisons from her. They also hired her for kuragura and guterekera purposes just as they did Gato.

After four months in exile, Gato Gatembasi walked back to Gisaka. She did not go to her home in Rweru however, for she had neither home nor loved one there. She headed to Ntarama, the place where her closest living relative lived. When she was close enough, she adopted Gakuru’s witch look. The powdered face, the braided hair, the hat. And as she walked through the villages, villagers took her to be Gakuru, who was known here as Gatemanyi. They invited Gato into their huts, asked her for poisons: to kill a close or distant relative, to get a wife sick, to make a man fall in love with them, to ease a grandmother into death, to kill a husband who hadn’t stopped beating them despite the love potions, to kill a brother who stole one of their wives, and so forth.

In response, Gato Gatembasi gave each one of them two wooden vials. One to kill the enemy or the loved one, and another which she said was her gift to them – a medicine for that rash their son had, for their wife that would help them both in bed given their old age, for their kid’s tummy ache, for their husband’s hunting injuries, to give luster to their sister’s hair, to improve their husband’s odor, and so on, depending on what they complained about when they spoke with her. Some women would say, “My! My! You’re giving medicines as well?” To which she would say, “I am getting older, I have no husband nor children, so why not expand my practice?” Then she would add, “Plus, this way, you won’t have to travel all the way to Musenyi to get find a healer,” at which the women smiled in gratitude.

By midnight, every family in the three villages of Ntarama had had their son, daughter, sister, brother, wife, husband, mother, or father die. Early the next morning, everyone marched towards the bad witch’s house brandishing sticks, canes, ropes, dry grass. Some even brough knives. They banged on her door and grabbed her when she opened. They tied Gakuru 11 Gatemanyi on a branchless tree they had stuck in the ground, surrounded her with twigs, sticks and dried grass, and set her aflame. All the while she cried and begged and asked what wrong she could have done to them. In response, they spit on her, beat her, some cut her skin, but all cursed her. Gakuru saw the twigs and sticks burning around her and continued to call out. When the flames reached her skin, she screamed and screamed. And suddenly, through the rising smoke, Gakuru saw her sister come from behind a tree close by; her face still in Gakuru’s signature makeup. She knew it was her, not because she knew those eyes and that forehead as intimately as she knew her own hands, but because of the way she stood, hand on her hips, lips pursed, the posture she’d adopted after the snake incident.

In that moment, seeing her, Gakuru stopped screaming, paused for a second, and then laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed, until her laughter became a cackling sound.

You see, when the twins were teenagers and they were learning their witchcraft, a guterekera ceremony was held. A feast for the gods was presented: meat, beans, sorghum ugali, corn, tubers, plus urwagwa n’ubushera. A fire was lit, and the girls were presented to the spirits of their family’s ancestors. Soon after, their aunt unusually passed away in her sleep. Two weeks after the funeral procession, a witch from far away was asked to hold and lead another ceremony. When Gakuru and Gato, in front of their extended family and family friends, were presented to the spirits of their ancestors again, the witch channeled the spirit of their dead aunt. The spirit in a stern voice chose Gakuru to replace her as the family’s umugirwa. The person who would inherit their aunt’s supernatural power that would enable her to speak to their ancestors directly and carry messages between the dead and the living on the behalf of both sides. It also meant that Gakuru would lead all the kubandwa and guterekera ceremonies. Gato hid well her shock, but inwardly she seethed. As she congratulated her elder sister, Gato thought to herself, “I am the skilled one, I’m the good one. Why didn’t my aunt choose me?” And of course, the rest of the extended family asked one another the same question.

Gato would later travel to the kingdom of Rwanda to find a witch who would teach her how to communicate with spirits, acquiring her sorcery skills along the way; then their entire extended family would side with Gato and speak to ancestors through her instead of through Gakuru. For now, Gato let jealousy boil inside her. It took her a long time, but an opportunity to best her sister revealed itself when she saw Gakuru giggling with a boy who had come to visit a family in their village. Gato in Gakuru’s incabure called on the young man and went with him in the forest. Thinking she was Gakuru, the boy laid with her. Looking at the smirk on her face afterwards, she informed him that she wouldn’t leave him now that he’d gotten her with child. The look on the boy’s face! Gato marrying before her older sister though they were twins closed doors for Gakuru to ever marry. Now, Gakuru was ‘cursed’. The eldest daughter always married first. Unless she was cursed. No one else however knew that the boy had been stolen from Gakuru. That is why when Gato suddenly became umugirwa, no one questioned how she came to be one; they were simply relieved they didn’t have to pray to god and their ancestors through the cursed one.

And so, as Gakuru burned and her skin boiled and she saw her sister and realized what Gato, “the good one,” had done to get back at her, she laughed and laughed and screamed. And soon, the villagers couldn’t tell whether she was laughing or screaming or coughing.

Si njye wahera, hahera Gakuru Gatemanyi.