“I have seen Satan,” announced the wife of my supervisor. Now, my supervisor’s wife is one of those people whose English is very good – she’s a teacher – but who I can never quite understand completely. Somehow tiny bits of meaning fall out, like little screws from a precision machine, making the whole conversation dysfunctional.
On this occasion I believe, but am not quite sure, that she was talking about the birth of her first child, and the pain thereof which gave her visions. Regardless, one thing was clear: she had seen Satan.
”The height of Satan is only five feet,” she continued. “He has a light complexion and very glaring eyes. He has a horn like this,” holding up her thumb for size comparison, “and a tail.” She went on to describe the tortured souls he presided over in Hell.
”I see from your eyes – you don’t believe me,” she told me composedly. I protested weakly that I did.
“I have seen Mama Mary as well. She is very beautiful. Her skin is so soft. She is very beautiful…”