You may well ask whether there is any truth behind these stories about witchcraft. My response is that it would be foolish to ascribe all these stories to mankind’s propensity for wild imagination. The “no smoke without fire” adage may apply in this case.
There are so many people in Zambia who can swear to have had some personal encounter with the power of witchcraft. Some of these people are very highly educated individuals who have their obtained their academic qualifications from overseas universities.
What is probably needed to establish whether witchcraft is real or not is a scientific investigation into the art. By scientific, I am not necessarily referring to the use of test tubes and microscopes. These tools have certainly proved useful in investigating normal physical phenomenon but are unlikely to be effective in tracking data that lie outside the realm of logic.
It is an undisputed fact that many Zambians turn to traditional healers, herbalists and witchdoctors when confronted by strange or unexplainable problems. Many years ago, a graduate boss of mine decided to secretly visit a medium in a high density area in Mufulira to try and understand the cause of his misfortunes in life. When he arrived at the medium’s house, he realized that he was just one of many customers who had come to consult the medium that day.
While he waited for his turn, he had the opportunity to observe the medium at work. The customers were made to sit on the floor on the veranda of the house in front of the medium who was also seated on the floor. From time to time, the medium would mention the name of one of the customers and describe the customer’s problem in great deal and ask the customer to confirm whether her diagnosis was a correct one. Every customer seemed to completely agree with the diagnosis. The medium would then proceed to prescribe or administer the cure as necessary.
One very thin looking man, dressed in an immaculate white suit, was told that he was dying because he was carrying an invisible dead infant on his back which was feeding on his blood. The medium dipped a whisker in a pot of medicine and splashed the liquid onto the man. Instantly, everyone present was able
to see a little corpse tied with a chitenje cloth on the man’s back.
The medium untied the cloth, took down the corpse and gave it to one of her female assistants to take into the house. She told the man that his problem was over. He was told to pay any amount that he would deem fair when he was sure that his ailment had been permanently cured.
My former graduate boss stated that when his turn came to be seen by the medium, he was amazed at the accuracy of the medium’s account of the details and history of his problem. She went on to administer a remedy for his woes. According to him, that day marked the end of all his misfortunes.
The story of my departed father is a very interesting one when it comes to witchcraft. He did not believe in the existence of sorcery or African magical powers. He used to say that only senseless people who had not had the benefit of education could believe such nonsense. He used to tell me, for instance, that a wizard or witch had no power to kill anyone except through the use of poison.
Yet my father attributed his unique ability to physically beat anyone to a ritual performed by a traditional medicine during his teenage years back in his home village. Yes, throughout his life, my father beat up anyone he chose to. I grew up in Chamboli, a township once referred to as Biafra because of the prevalence of crime in the form of drug abuse, murders and fights. My father freely moved about at night even when gangs were formed to terrorized lone night movers.
If my father was ever defeated by anyone, such an incident was a closely guarded secret that I never became aware of.
The ritual that turned my father into an undisputed street fighting champion involved having small cuts made with a razor blade on various parts of his body and rubbing some herbal powder on the cuts. My father said that this ritual was performed in a graveyard.
One incident serves to demonstrate how opposed my father was to a belief in African magic. While serving his last three years as a primary school headmaster, my father was sentenced to a term of nine months in prison for alleged embezzlement of school funds.
The lawyer who represented my father during the trial decided to appeal the judgment. About twelve years had passed since my father and my mother divorced but my mother showed solidarity with my father by sending a special tablet of bathing soap for him to use to help him win the case. The soap had
been specially prepared by a traditional medicine man.
My father explained to me that although he had no doubts that he would win the case without the use of the soap, he feared that rejecting the soap would give the impression that he did not acknowledge my mother’s gesture of love.
My father kept the soap but did not use it. He went on to win his appeal case. I learnt from this incident that not even the fear of incarceration could make my father change his attitude towards witchcraft.
What is my personal view of sorcery and African magic? I believe that there are forces that lie beyond the physical realm which cannot be proved by ordinary scientific methods.
Various religions teach that there exist spiritual forces that influence our physical world. On one hand, there are evil forces which find their highest embodiment in a spiritual being commonly referred to as the Devil. On the other hand, there are good forces which find their highest embodiment in a spiritual being referred to as God. I personally hold the Christian view which teaches a somewhat similar concept.
In concluding my discussion, I would like to share with you an anecdote about the existence of a realm that is commonly invisible to the uninitiated.
A young mechanical engineer in his late twenties in one of the companies in Kabwe town had a misunderstanding with one of his subordinates, an old man in his late fifties.
The old man warned the young man to be careful how he spoke to him.
The young engineer replied, “Don’t threaten me. What can you do to me?”
“Do you see that black Mamba between your two feet?” said the old man as he pointed at the young engineer’s feet.
“I don’t see any black mamba,” replied the engineer.
“See!” cautioned the old man. “You can’t even see the danger around you.”
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