Cats make loud noises while romping, it’s not witchcraft

I may have, or not, narrated about the day my villagers once killed a rare white owl. I have seen many bird species in my life; beautiful ones, as birds tend to be, but I am yet to see a more beautiful bird, than that owl species, killed for no other reason, than it was an owl. Afrikan folktales conditioned us to detest owls, to look at them as agents of doom. Owls and black cats. It took a lot of will power and time for me to stop looking at these two creatures with trepidation, to start looking at them with appreciation, because they are both beautiful and majestic.

I risked being labelled a witch when I stopped the slaying of another adult white owl, and two chicks, but I shall never forget how beautifully tragic the dead owl’s white coat was, with its own blood all over it, like a beautiful work of art, its beautiful eyes frozen in death.  Such sacrilege.