He motioned towards his house. "Come in. Have some tea. I will tell you all about it. I looked towards my friend Bob. He looked at the village men gathering in the afternoon dusk. The children had disappeared. It was getting dark. Our choices were few. There was refuge in this pastor's house, behind a door, or taking our chances with a village of men with machetes. The SUV's doors were locked. We couldn't wait in the car. A man climbing up the hill shouting to no one in particular decided for us. We would go into the house and hear the story of how the demoniac came to be the pastor of the village church.