The Witch Doctor

I was planning on writing a blog entry tonight. It was going to be a mundane entry about my routine here in Zimbabwe and my upcoming trip to Egypt. I was going to describe how I have been fairly content here these past few weeks – doing lots of horseback riding (including in the rain, which is very exhilarating!), even more yoga, and playing a bit of guitar here and there in various places on the farm.
I was going to describe how on Saturday, I leave for Egypt – a place I’ve dreamed of visiting long before I even knew I loved travel. I was going to say that, to top off this stellar location, I get to see it with one of my favorite people – Alex (remember her from Thailand/Singapore?) and her two friends. Then, to add icing to an already sweet cake, she is coming back to Zimbabwe and we are going on a camping roadtrip to Victoria Falls and a couple national parks. I guess the blog entry wouldn’t have been THAT mundane.
But low and behold, I had an opportunity to experience something truly unique this evening – a witch doctor performing a cleansing ceremony here on my own section of the farm! As soon as I heard this, I HAD to go, even if it meant walking down into the village, which is something I’ve never done. I mean, I drive through it every day, waving from my big truck, but I had never walked there and sat amongst the locals. I knew I would get a lot of stares when I went, but I was determined to see this event nonetheless.
I went with my neighbor’s maid so that she could explain what was happening to me. Nonetheless, it was quite confusing, as I think when it came to matters such as this, her English failed her a bit. As I walked down into the village I could see everyone gathered in one part of the compound. They all turned to stare at me as the maid led me through all 200 of them, directly in front of the ceremony, to the seat of honor. I think my face turned a few shades of red!
What I saw was strange and incomprehensible. A man was stood, with his arms up, in the middle of a square drawn in the sand, facing a port-o-potty-sized reed enclosure containing the witch doctor. In between the two men was a wooden statue which looked like a thin person with a large whole for a head – almost like a seeing eye. Covering the statue were several bead necklaces. From what I gathered, I had walked into the middle of what I equate to a palm-reading. The witch doctor, from behind his reed wall, had determined that this man had been cursed by someone in the village. As the witch doctor chanted away, it was evident that he was determining what type of curse had been performed on this man, and where the cursed object could be.
Suddenly he took off, with the entire village behind him, to retrieve the said object from the unfortunate man’s house. No one but the cursed man, the witch doctor, and his two translator-helpers entered the house, but everyone waited outside and then followed the party back to the original location to unfold the cursed item. I imagine we all went along for the journey because this was the most exciting 6-day event that the villagers had been part of in some time. It was strange to watch everything happen in public, to the oohhs and aaahs of the entire village. I could imagine that this poor man, who’d been cursed by someone in this very mob, was feeling ashamed and embarassed at having to deal with what I can only imagine ought to be a private matter in public.
Nonetheless, we all returned to our seats and awaiting “the revealing”. The cursed object discovered in the house had the shape, size, and fur of a rat, but without the face and tail. It was, however, covered in beads. I’m told that the way the witch doctor finds this object is by summoning it once he’s in the house. The object is said to reveal itself by flying out from its hiding spot. I wish I’d been able to peep in the window.
Most every villager pays their $2 to be judged by the witch doctor. Most step into the square, raise their hands, and spin twice to be quickly turned away by the witch doctor to a round of hoots from the crowd, deemed to be uncursed. Two more, however, were deemed to be cursed, their houses searched, and strange, furry, beaded items revealed to the awed circle.
By far the strangest moment of the ceremony was when a mother brought her boy to be cured by the witch doctor. According to my translator, the mother had brought this young child to several doctors, and all had claimed the boy was healthy. The crying boy, cradled by the mother, was presented to the half-naked witch doctor, who shoved a bird feather down the throat of the boy and proceeded to “clean him”. Very soon, he was coughing up blood and other substances from deep within. Suddenly, the ritual was over, the healed boy returned to his seat as though nothing happened, and the mother came to pick up the pile of blood and objects (I couldn’t tell if it was the mangled feather or something more).
The event which capped off this strange evening had to do with a man who had lost his child a month ago. He spoke quietly to the witch doctor, and suddenly the witch doctor pointed his staff at a man – the bereaved father’s brother. The witch doctor had determined that this man had killed the child. He then proceeded to give the village what I can only imagine was a lecture. According to my (white) neighbor, black Zimbabweans are full of jealousy, which is why they resort to black magic and curse one another. When someone in the village has success or is getting ahead of another, jealousy causes others (often family members!) to seek out witch doctors to plant curses on items which are them placed in the target’s home, beverage, or food. I imagine that the witch doctor was talking about the wrongs of jealousy and greed and where this is getting them as a people. But who knows – he could have just been getting the crowd riled-up for the next day’s continuation!
I didn’t escape this ceremony unscathed. Soon after my arrival, I noticed that everyone had suddenly looked at me. I turned to my translator, who told me that the witch doctor wished to see me. I shook my head in fear, and everyone burst out laughing. It was then translated to me that the witch doctor wished to have a few locks of my hair, for good luck.
No thanks, witch doctor. I just got a haircut yesterday, and there isn’t enough hair left to go around.