There are sorcerers, perhaps, in any country, but only in Africa, their influence on the lives of ordinary people is still much more significant than on any other continent. The belief in magic is so strong among Africans that even the most advanced and educated of them can fall prey to age-old prejudice and superstition.
Soak the sorcerer
In almost any African market you can find people who sell things that are rather strange for a European - animal teeth, some kind of roots, creepy-looking, smeared with fat and blood, figurines and masks. It was local sorcerers who spread their magic goods. Their goods do not stale for a long time, because the demand for amulets, talismans and magic potions on the Black Continent is still great.
Sorcerers in Africa are still feared. The influence of their black magic in the villages is explained by the death of a relative, and the death of livestock, and drought. There are frequent cases when people driven to despair by the misfortunes that have fallen on them cruelly deal with those whom they suspect of witchcraft. So, shortly before the new millennium, a 60-year-old man from the village of Toku in the Congo killed his uncle. The decision about this crime was made at the family council, because the objectionable relative had long been known in the district as a sorcerer and boasted in front of everyone that with the help of a fetish "muandza" could destroy the whole family.
As the well-known journalist Sergei Soloviev wrote at one time, in the Congo a rather barbaric custom is used to identify sorcerers - "nkasa mbondo". In fact, this poisoning of suspected witchcraft is practically murder. It is believed that the poison extracted from the bark of the "nkasa" bush is fatal only for sorcerers … Under the monotonous drumbeat, the unfortunate suspected of magical intrigues is forced to take poison. When he begins to writhe in agony, the audience sighs with satisfaction: one sorcerer has become less …
Treatment … with a crocodile
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Of course, one should not think that Africans are only engaged in the extermination of their sorcerers: ordinary people usually become victims of showdowns on the basis of magic, those who are usually accused of the evil eye or damage. Professional sorcerers are often respected and always find a scapegoat on the side if some trouble happens in the village where they "practice".
In the African hinterland, where it is still difficult to get medical help on time, people rush to the sorcerer for any ailment. In Congo, for example, witch doctors are called "nganga". These are the real specialists in traditional medicine. "Nganga" know the healing properties of all plants, minerals, can correct dislocation and give birth.
Among the magicians-healers, there are also great originals. A case is described when in the north of Ghana a healer used … a living crocodile in his magical treatment. This village "psychotherapist" usually talked heart to heart with his patient, when a huge terrible crocodile suddenly crept into his "office". From the shock received, the patients often stuttered, and they often forgot about other sores completely … Alas, this talented "shock therapist" was eventually devoured by his toothy assistant …
Sometimes magical healing requires human sacrifice. Among the sorcerers of Lesotho, it was believed that the most potent medicines could be obtained from … human flesh. Moreover, they were made from pieces of flesh cut off from a living person …
The last officially recorded case of such terrible barbarism dates back to 1948. Then, at a party in Lesotho, one of the guests was attacked by all those present and began to cut off a piece of his body, putting the "raw materials" in a special vessel. The unfortunate man rushed about among the brutal "healers" until his throat was cut.
Mafia with a magic twist
The superstitions of ordinary Africans are used not only by charlatans of various stripes, but also by real bandits. For example, in Nigeria in the second half of the twentieth century, there was a sect of "crocodile people", which specialized in kidnapping or buying girls for next to nothing.
The main victims of the sect were mainly fishermen and their families. Residents of the villages on the banks of the rivers believed that "people-crocodiles" are a cross between a man and an animal, or rather, these are the souls of the dead who moved into a crocodile. Any witchcraft and magic is available to such formidable creatures, so they must be unconditionally obeyed, otherwise misfortune, bad weather and bad catches cannot be avoided.
Some imaginary sorcerers even pretended to be "relatives" of sacred crocodiles, catching up with fear in ordinary Africans, who, fearing revenge from the "crocodile people", paid them tribute and even sold their daughters for next to nothing, who then ended up in nightclubs.
Die on your own "will"
The fact that the souls of Africans are soaked in mysticism is evidenced by the event that in 1993 shocked millions of Sudanese. It all started with the fact that one of the boys climbed over the fence of the cemetery to get a soccer ball. Seconds later, the boy's heartbreaking squeal was heard, and he galloped past his friends, ignoring their calls to stop.
It turned out that when he climbed for the ball, from a small grave on a hillock, he clearly heard human voices. The news of the "talking grave" instantly spread around the neighborhood. First, hundreds, and then thousands of Sudanese abandoned their affairs and went to the grave to personally communicate with the other world.
The stream of curious people did not dry up, and local businessmen were not taken aback and opened a special bus route that connected the village next to the cemetery and the capital of the country. The merchants did not miss their profit, and next to the "talking grave" a market was opened where you could buy food and drinks.
Many spent more than one day at the grave in which the 12-year-old girl Sely rested, and they authoritatively declared that “the deceased is knocking on the lid of the coffin and trying to get out.” Several high-ranking police officers also visited the grave; it is curious that the representatives of the authorities also heard some "incomprehensible noise from a crack in the grave's masonry."
A doctor from a nearby hospital was recruited as a scientific expert to examine the grave. He gazed with horror at the crowd of thousands, through which the police paved the way, using tear gas. The doctor put his ear to the crack, then carefully listened to the tombstone with a stethoscope. The volunteer expert had the courage to admit that he hadn't heard anything. Under guard, he swiftly left the cemetery, shuddering with indignant shouts from the crowd.
Since a real pilgrimage began to the grave, the authorities decided to conduct another examination. This time the acoustics were working on the grave. For a whole day, with the help of sensitive devices, they tried to fix any sounds coming from the grave, but all their efforts were in vain.
How did this whole story with the “talking grave” end? Gradually the excitement around this "miracle" came to naught, the people were simply tired of this endless vigil at the grave, the crowd slowly dissipated, because mysticism was mysticism, but you still need to make a living …
Superstitions are so deeply rooted in the minds of Africans that even those of them who have come into close contact with modern civilization sometimes become victims of prejudices dormant in them. One such tragic incident was once told by the famous Italian film director and traveler Folco Quilici.
Once in the Congo, Kuilichi went to a doctor he knew for a medical certificate. He had prepared a gift in advance, a pack of good cigarettes, for the orderly Gabriel, who always helped Folko avoid unnecessary bureaucratic red tape. However, it turned out that Gabriel died, and lost his life because of witchcraft …
It turned out that shortly before the death of the orderly, a sorcerer from his native village came to his house. In the village where Gabriel was born, several people died, a woman in labor died and a pestilence began among the cattle - for all these misfortunes the sorcerer blamed the orderly, who "submitted to the 'magic' of doctors and the big city." The sorcerer said only three words: "You must die." This was enough for a cultured African, a participant in World War II, who worked with a microscope for 15 years, kept excellent medical records and read Pari-Match, fell ill and never got up again. He died of self-hypnosis, from the deep-rooted belief in the omnipotence of witchcraft.