I am Dejema, most powerful of African Sorcerers. I have existed from the beginning. I am the spark of the first fire, and the life in the first water. I have seen continents break and seas dry. I have been there when the heavens break and the stars born. I am Dejema, most powerful of Sorcerers.
I practise the craft of wizards, ancient sorcery, which knows no cult or creed. Powers that come from the beginning, before any, and after all.
Kings shake and witch doctors quiver, fearing my powers, knowing that they are but small drops in my ocean of power.
I am the spirits, I am the ancestors, I am he who all magic bows to. I am the one whom all witches would know. I have seen kings come and kings go. I have seen magicians hold the earth in their hands, and I have watched them pass.
Know this, infant spell crafters, that all power stems from the one power.
They know, they know, and still they claim. Their eyes and ears are as a babe, hearing and seeing, but understanding nothing, mixing potions and spells, claiming the power as theirs.
Shake little men and woman, play your games in your one life – but know this – you are nothing, all of you who claim to have the power. Little men playing little games of religion and witchcraft. Preying on innocent humans, like they are your playthings, sucking, sucking sucking – like ticks upon an ignorant beast.
Know this, sucking ticks, what you take you will return – be ye a man or woman, be ye a sangoma or pastor, healer or psychic, be ye witch or witch doctor, sorceress or sorcerer. I see you, I see your crimes against my people. Your time will pass, you will come to my domain, the domain of true power, the domain of spirit and light.