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Wonders shall never end
It
was with shock that I received last week’s news of the smashing by the police of
a shrine of death, murder and ritual sacrifice. In a society like ours, where
superstitution and belief in witchcraft is widespread, it’s not uncommon to
hear, read or even see sites such as the Onitsha police uncovered: Of dozens of
badly mutilated corpses and severed heads often under the control of medicine
men and women who are believed by their patrons to know where the proverbial
golden pot is.
Although stories like these are very
common here, the freshness of each new account strikes you to numbness, and
shock in my own case, as if you’re hearing it for the very first time. The most
recent discoveries are particularly striking, perhaps, not so striking after
all, because the police have said they managed to storm the hide-out of the
murderous gang and arrested more than two dozen suspects, except the alleged
ring-leader of the group who, apparently, was "too old" to be taken into police
custody.
I consider it astonishing in a very
negative sense because the supposedly hundred-year-old monkey has been strong
and intelligent enough to lead his group, probably for many a long year, without
any signs of remorse or preparedness to repent, despite the fact that the
Almighty had preferred not to terminate his miserable life when He should have
done so, more than forty years ago.
Another interesting aspect of this
awe-inspiring tale is the claims, which have long since passed the stage of
insinuations, that some big-time politicians did and still patronize voodoo
shrines like these in order to obtain charms to win elections and provide
protection for themselves against their enemies. This may sound ridiculous, but,
it’s also true that Nigerians, even some among the most educated and religious,
believe that a native doctor who really knows his job has the power to bestow on
a desperate client wealth beyond belief. All he might need is a freshly procured
human head, a man’s severed genitals, a woman’s breast or the drained blood of a
halpless victim.
What Western civilization teaches us is
that most of these things aren’t real. For instance, it’s hard for you to find
any white man who won’t laugh at you if you told him that, once upon a time in
Lagos State, men fearfully walked about the streets, or boarded buses and cabs,
trying their best to ensure that their bodies didn’t come in contact with those
of others, to avoid losing their penises to unknown magicians.
Just eight years ago, and even four years
back, women and girls in Lagos would enter mini-buses and molues with
their arms firmly strapped around their breasts, for fear of losing them to
these magicians, many of whom, quite amazingly, ended up being caught by crowds
of people who are said to have given chase upon an alarm being raised by the
victim.
At the time, the Nigeria police were
reported to have set about investigating the extraordinary tales, because, at a
point, the incidents had started to cause menace and to disturb the public
peace. We never got to learn of the outcome of those inquiries - I must say.
The one problem with some of these
so-called issues of superstition is that some people tend to insist, even if
their insistence doesn’t match up to their real convictions, that anything which
can’t be scientifically proven is probably not worth looking into.
To make matters worse for those who do
share the so-called scientific approach, most times, you don’t see people coming
forward to confirm personally having witnessed these seemingly supernatural
feats. For instance, I for one don’t remember anyone appearing on TV, when
stories of the missing penises and breasts gained currency, to complain of
having fallen victim.
Even in recent weeks, when the story of
the killer-phone numbers was rippling through Lagos like hot knife through
butter, it was amazing, and in my own case, bewildering, that not one single
person, whether man or woman, child or adult, came forward to confirm that they
witnessed anyone collapse and die on answering a call from the witchcraft
numbers. On that account, maybe, the author of that rumour must have had such a
good laugh through and through.
To be honest, I haven’t personally
witnessed any of these magical wonders. The closest I ever came to being at the
scene of such an occasion was some ten years ago: on a neighbouring street,
situated at Sadiku Ilasamaja, in Mushin, Lagos mainland. At about 6.03, one
Wednesday morning, I was among a large group of commuters who had been waiting
patiently at a busstop, when, suddenly the voice of a woman obviously overtaken
by terror, rang out loud intoj the rising sun crying "Moku’o! moku’o! moku’o".
As if she thought that her cry of fear wasn’t ringing out loud enough, or wasn’t
attracting wide enough attention because she had uttered her first screams in
Yoruba, she switched over to pidgin English: "I don die o! I don die o!".
The urgency was unmistakeable.
Trust Lagosians! Within some fifty
seconds, nearly one half of the crowd of commuters was heading to the direction
the terrified shouts were emanating - the younger men racing forward, bracing
themselves for action. A companion was curious to know what, and we both joined
in, if only with the intention of having "a piece of the action" from a safe
distance to the place where, most probably, a doomed thief was stripping a
defenceless victim of her valuables.
But, not so. The victim was a woman all
right. But, she hadn’t been attacked by anyone, although she was clearly
distressed. She had already been surrounded by an excited crowd, some her
immediate neighbours, others, not. She had calmed a bit, and had already started
to tell her tale. She had just finished sweeping her two-room apartment, when
the elderly woman next door, called Iya-Kemi, called her out to "come and see
something", to which she obliged.
Iya-Kemi had led her to a refuse dump
situated behind their compound and before she could ask her what the matter was,
another elderly woman, dressed in white, had appeared "from nowhere" to lambast
the other for "disturbing my life". Suddenly, the two haggard fellows began to
fight. Our narrator had managed to recover her composure, and was making to
separate the brawlers, when, instantaneously, shock and fear gripped her at the
same time, because within the twinkling of an eye, the ridiculous spectacle of
pushing and tugging between the two had transformed into something more grisly.
She could neither believe her eyes nor recognize anymore where she was: the two
women had changed to cats-and were still fighting when she managed to let out
the scream and race for dear life. Incredible! You might say; and indeed it is.
In truth, no-one had come out to corroborate her story, except that when other
neighbours of the bewildered woman had gone to Iya-Kemi’s house to look for her,
she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
But, all the same, most of those present
believed her, and they had to. Iya-Kemi was a witch. It was a safe conclusion to
reach. However, I beg to add here that, so "compelling" was the woman’s story,
that no-one cared to take seriously the pleas of another old woman, said to be
close pal of the "disappeared" woman, that Iya-Kemi had, only the day before,
told her that she was travelling to her village in Oshogbo, and that they had
walked across to the busstop together. Certainly, her seeming exoneration of her
friend wasn’t going to impress anyone for two reasons, at least: One, she, the
friend of the suspected witch, could easily have been an accomplice, and two:
These things "do happen".
There are hundreds and hundreds of similar
versions of super-human acts being performed by men and women we used to see as
mere mortals. While those in the Western World, far removed from our own
experiences and age-long traditions, can’t help laughing at us who still cling
to beliefs, some of which the people of 17th century Europe used to live by. I
think the real problem is elsewhere. The bible which the Europeans brought to
us, as well as the Koran which the Arabs showed us, do confirm the existence of
sorcery, evil spirits and voodoo-just as our African traditional religion. So,
when you ask a typical African why a ritualist cannot make someone rich or
powerful without shedding someone’s blood or maiming or ruining another, his
answer is also typical: "The devil gives you nothing for free. Only God can do
that".
My argument is a simple one. To believe
that a ritualist is able to use his satanic powers to bring you riches is one
thing, but, for a society that professes itself to be God-fearing to have so
many people within it who are happy to take matters as far as before the shrine
of murder and death becomes a totally different matter.
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