A Witch Killed My Friend

A witch killed my friend.  Not shot, or stabbed, or pummeled to death; rather, he had a spell put on him.  The witch even admitted the deed, to the village as well as his widow.  My friend, who was a husband, schoolteacher, and father of two, was a popular man in the village. 

This is his picture:

The villagers were outraged at the witch, so set about the task of killing her.  The village police, who are like a citizens' patrol, took the witch into custody to protect her. 

A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed what I just wrote.  Putting spells on people is just fantasy or mind-control chicanery.  But I have learned a lot about an interesting paradigm that inhabits our world: the spirit world.  It’s a world and a power that us civilized people snicker at -- while we roll our eyes.  

I, more than anyone, was a scoffer.  I too rolled my eyes and shook my head at the ignorant people who believed in such things.  Yet here I am, writing about the world I once denied.

I won’t go into all the details of witchcraft here in Malawi, suffice it to say witchcraft has a consuming influence in this culture.  The well educated and professional as well as the illiterate villagers know about witches and their witchcraft.  The churchgoers and the secular both believe in aspects of this spiritual traditional culture, which is steeped in the ancestor’s spirit world.  

It’s believed that roaming, deceased ancestors influence the daily goings on.  They do believe in one god, but that god isn’t bothered about individuals.  That god has too much to contend with, so he just handles the big stuff:  Things like whether it should rain, and how much, and whether he’ll send major calamities to punish, or huge blessings on a grand scale to reward.

But I see from the length of this writing that I’m going on too much.  

I’ll skip to the meat of this blog. 

The witch, a thirty-something single woman with three kids and one on the way, doesn’t look like a witch.  She dresses as a traditional woman, without any visible outward signs of her being anything but a typical villager.  So I was a little disappointed when I met her.  

I was hoping for feathers and furs.  

Traditional Malawian spirit dancers really do
have the feathers and furs.

Instead, I got torn, tattered, and threadbare chitenje (the wraparound cloth used as a skirt). 

This picture of the witch was taken 
shortly after my friend died.  

Her story about killing my friend more than made up for my initial disillusionment, however.  Not that I wasn’t uneasy about hearing how my friend was killed.  A man I admired for his loyalty to his family, which includes a wheelchair-bound seven year-old hydroencephalytic girl named Cecilia with a sunshine smile.  

He was "unusual" for a villager: intelligent, faithful to one wife, and an affectionate doting father.  He read the Bible in the Malawian language for me every week at our Bible study.  

I’m glad Leanne took pictures of him; it was nice to give those to his family.

He did everything he could to make life comfortable 
for his daughter with hydroencephaltis (water on the brain).

Here’s what I was told about the killing.

The witch had a dream visit by other witches one night.  They told her to kill a cat.  The next day, she captured and killed a cat as instructed.  

That day, my friend became violently ill.  By day three, he was vomiting blood and finally died.  Just days before his death, he looked and seemed perfectly fit to me.  In fact, he had just been to our clinic to get medicine for his wife and he looked great.  There seemed to be no known medical reason for his sudden malady, and I’ve treated quite a few serious illnesses here. 

As for the witch dream and killing the cat, it would be too lengthy to explain the traditional religion and role of witchcraft in this region.  The dream visit and subsequent killing is fairly standard though, albeit much more complicated than I’ve written.  As I previously stated, it dominates the culture, so is a book unto itself.  

Her reason for killing my friend was deflating.  She said she didn’t want to kill him, didn’t even know he was the one who would die.  She was under the powers of the other witches, so just did as she was told. 

Fast forward to ending:  God’s redemptive ability has overcome.  Leanne and I encouraged the witch to ask for forgiveness from our Lord and follow Jesus.  She tearfully accepted His forgiveness, with my friend’s widow close by, listening and watching.  Other Christians were sitting next to her as well, encouraging her to live in the light, and leave her dark past behind. 

We sat outside her home on the grass mat to hear her story.

As of this writing, the ex-witch now hosts our Bible study under her big shade tree.  My friend’s widow and her sit on the bamboo mat together, listening to how God rules our world.  And I get to see how God rules, firsthand, watching them chat to one another as friends do.