The modernity of witchcraft
Examples from Cameroon
Peter Geschiere
One of the most striking aspects of everyday life in post-colonial Africa is the
pervasiveness of 'sorcery', 'witchcraft', 'sorcellerie' or whatever term people
use to indicate the occult. Discourses on the occult forces seem to pervade all
aspects of society, especially the more 'modern' ones. Whether it concerns
football matches or national politics, the success of new entrepreneurs or the
failure of a development project, it seems hardly possible to discuss what
'really' happened without referring to these discourses.
To many western observers, this 'modernity' of witchcraft may come
as a surprise. The idea that such beliefs are 'traditional' obstacles which will
fade away under the impact of 'Modernization' or 'Development' is very
tenacious: despite all the critique of the modernization paradigm, this basic
idea keeps surfacing. Ho wever, if one wants to understand why these discourses remain so relevant in present-day Africa, it is important to emphasize that
far from being merely 'traditional', they do address and interpret the modern
changes in ail sorts of ways. It is true that in some contexts, these discourses
can have a 'traditionalising' tenor, opposing development and change. But it
seems that there are also all sorts of articulations possible: these discourses
seem to intertwine very easily - be it following different patterns - with new
developments, such as the pénétration of money, the émergence of wagelabour and the spread of new consumption goods, but also with new forms of
individualism and violence, or whatever form 'modernity' may take in Africa.
1
Discourses on witchcraft and sorcery have always dealt with issues of personal
ambition, inequality and violence. In everyday life, such issues appear to be
manifest aspects of modernity. People are shocked and fascinated by the new
inequalities, which seem to transgress the old communitarian restrictions and
which appear therefore to stem from new forms of individualism and evoke
no vel patterns of violence. But these are, as said before, familiär thèmes in
witchcraft and sorcery. No wonder, these discourses seem so relevant to many
Africans for understanding the modem changes and for trying to deal with
them.
We shall see that in this articulation of witchcraft and modernity highly
variable patterns can evolve. In some parts of Cameroon, witchcraft discourses
seem to serve mainly to combat the new inequalities. Here, witchcraft rumours
seem to have a strong levelling impact. But in other parts of the country,
similar discourses seem rather to affirm and encourage the accumulation of
new forms of wealth. In order to understand such variations, a more historical
perspective on the transformation of these discourses, and on the societies
concemed, seems to be needed.
Of great importance in this context is the rôle of the post-colonial state.
In gênerai, state officials seem to be highly concerned by the apparent
2
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Peter Geschiere
proliferation of witchcraft. Ever since Independence, they have marked, time
and again, witchcraft as being one of the most dangerous forms of 'subversion'. Officials tend to blame the failure of government projects on local
witchcraft, which they seem to equate with a diffuse but omnipresent conspiracy against the state. Often, one can wonder to what extent witchcraft - mainly
expressed in rumours, allusions and suggestions - is really directed against the
state. But the strong attacks on it by government officials - who often turn out
to be themselves deeply enmeshed in the occult world in private - has had its
effects. Witchcraft has as such become a political issue.
But even though there seems to be, in general, concern about witchcraft amongst the officials, there are - again - important regional variations in
the ways in which the state intervenes in practice in this treacherous domain.
In the East Province, state courts have begun to condemn witches - without
any concrete proof of physical aggression but mainly on the basis of the
expertise of the nganga (witch-doctor) - ever since the end of the seventies.
This is all the more remarkable since it is completely in contradiction with the
preceeding jurisprudence. In the Centre and South Provinces, the Courts seem
to be more circumspect, but here too, it seems that there is heavy pressure on
the state to intervene in witchcraft affairs. In the Western Provinces - the third
area to be discussed below - there are, as yet, hardly any examples of parallel
interventions by the state and people here seem to feel that the threat of
witchcraft has to be dealt with in other ways.
3
4
In this article, I want to briefly compare three witchcraft affairs in different
parts of Cameroon. Each case seems to exemplify a different pattern in the
relationship between witchcraft and the new inequalities. Moreover, in each
case, the role of the state varies strongly. It seems that especially the various
ways in which state interventions articulate with local discourses on the occult,
are of crucial importance in understanding the different scenarios illustrated by
these cases.
New witch-trials in the East: judges in alliance with witch-doctors
M y first example comes from the East Province, where the witchcraft trials
are taking place. To many in Cameroon, it was not at all surprising that the
first trials occurred in this province, since everybody seems to agree that
witchcraft is particularly rampant there. In Cameroon, the East is generally
considered to be one of the most backward parts of the country. One of the
reasons is that this part of the forest area has remained inaccessible. But this
stereotype seems to reflect also the great problems, during colonial and even
post-colonial times, of incorporating the societies of the East into the state and
the market economy. A n important factor is that these societies are strongly
segmentary in their organization. The Maka, for instance, lived until the
colonial conquest (1905/10) in small, exogamic family villages which were
completely autonomous. Within the village, the family elders exercised strict
70
The modernity of witchcrafi
control over the women, the young men and other dependents of their group.
But between the villages no form of central authority existed. On the contrary,
there was a constant State of hostility between them. At most, villages which
claimed a common descent could meet - especially when there were marriages
regularly between them - in order to résolve their conflicts. But such reconciliations were always precarious; there was always the risk that the basic
hostility might fiare up again.
To these societies, the State as it was imposed after the colonial
conquest, with its Claims of automatic obédience, was a complete novelty.
Consequently, the colonial aufhorities had great problems, not only in 'pacifying' these areas - it took the Germans five years to subdue the relatively small
Maka group - but also to mobilise the people's labour for the market economy. The French, who during the first world war conquered this part of
Cameroon, instituted a highly coercive System of labour control, since they
believed that only government coerción could make these 'backward' people
produce surpluses for the 'mise en valeur' of the área. Elsewhere, I have tried
to show that the precarious articulation of the oíd, 'tribal' order, with the
authoritarian forms of control imposed by the State, still marks present-day
relations in the villages.
To people in Yaounde (the capital of Cameroon), it is evident that the
'mentalité primitive' of the Maka and other groups in the East, explains why it
is especially in this province that the State courts had to intervene against the
prolifération of witchcraft. The following case exhibits a pattern which seems
to be characteristic for the witch trials by the State courts in the East.
5
6
7
8
During the summer of 1982 there was mounting unrest in
Baman, one of the more important villages in the Maka area
(East Province). People were worried about a series of deaths
in the village. But there was also a lot of talk of 'des bruits
insolites' which were to be heard at night near the Compound of
Moboma, an elderly bachelor, living in the middle of the
village. Several people asked the chief to intervene and he
referred the affair to a certain Baba Denis. This Baba originates
from Baman but he left the village when he was still quite
young. In 1982, he returned 'to purify' the village - as he
explained it to the Court - since he had become an accomplished
'professeur-guérisseur' in the meantime. Indeed, within a few
months after his return, he had become known as a particularly
streng witch-doctor in the whole district.
9
In Baman itself, his purifying efforts had immédiate effects.
Dozens of people came to hand over their 'produits maléfiques'.
But Moboma and two other men of the same quarter, Mpande
and Mezing, refused to do so, despite repeated admonitions
from Baba. After the Chiefs complaints, Baba decided to
intervene more energetically. He told the chief to detain Mo71
Peter Geschiere
borna, and, accompanied by a few notables and a large crowd
of curious villagers, he proceeded to Moboma's house.
After entering the house, Baba placed himself in the middle of
the 'salon', and started to make his incantations, his right hand
raised and in his left an iron filled with burning coals. This
went on for some time, but then Baba suddenly pointed at
Moboma's bed and at the door. The notables rushed to these
places and indeed found extremely incriminating material:
enough panther's whiskers 'to decimate the whole village'. In
the gênerai excitement, ail sorts of other accusations were
made, against other persons too (as usually happens on such
occasions). This time Mpande became the target of new
accusations (probably because he had refused to hand over his
'produits maléfiques' to Baba, but also since he was a nephew
and good friend of Moboma). Several boys shouted that Mpande
had given them panther's whiskers and bamboo-splinters to bury
at strategie places. The aim was to kill the director of the
school, to stop the Catholic priest from visiting the village and
to ensure that the chapel which the Protestants were building
would never be finished. And indeed, the director had recentiy
died, the Catholic priest had not visited the village for a long
time and the Protestant chapel was still only half finished.
Baba finally put an end to ail this commotion by summoning the
chief to send immediately for the gendarmes. His 'discoveries'
left no doubt about the guilt of Moboma and his accomplices.
Therefore, they should be punished properly. The gendarmes
came the same day to arrest the three culprits.
Nearly nine months later - on the lOth of May 1983 - the affair
was finally judged by the Tribunal de Première Instance of
Abong-Mbang, the town of the département under which Baman
resorted. In front of the judges, all suspects denied everything.
Moboma even suggested that Baba himself must have planted
the panther's whiskers in his house (suspects often complain that
witch-doctors prétend to find things in their house which they
had never seen there). But the judge seemed more inclined to
believe the testimonies of Moboma's uncle Tsoung, of the boys
whom Mpande tried to use, and especially of Baba. The latter
explained that the 'bruits insolites' from Moboma's compound
were caused by 'aéroplanes magiques', for which Moboma had
made a landing-strip behind his house. Baba also demanded a
substantial compensation (500,000 fr. C F A - at that time about
£ 1300) from Moboma, since the latter had allegedly attacked
him while he (Baba) was busy destroying the magical air-strip.
72
The modernity ofwitchcrafl
He suddenly became so weak that bystanders had to carry him
off and he would have certainly died from this attack if he had
not succeeded in definitively destroying Moboma's powers.
The Court was clearly impressed by this last testimony. One of
the accused, Mezing, against whom no specific incriminating
charges had been brought, was released. But Moboma and
Mpande were sentenced to 5 years in jail and a fine of 30,000
fr. C F A (= about £ 80). Moreover, Moboma had to pay a
compensation to Baba to the tune of 40,000 fr. C F A (= about £
100). This was a lot less than Baba had claimed, but the Court's
verdict on this point implied an official récognition that a
nganga (witch-doctor) like Baba was entitled to compensation
from any sorcerer who is supposed to hinder him (or her) in his
work. Of course, to Baba, this was highly encouraging. Five
months later, the same case was heard by the Court of Appeal
in Bertoua, the capital of the Eastern Province, where the
verdict was confirmed on all points.
The course of events in this case had surprising aspects, not only for outsiders
but apparently for the villagers fhemselves as well. Yet, one can detect in it
many current éléments from the local discourse on the occult forces. The
panther's whiskers, which Baba found in Moboma's house and which caused
so much consternation, are often mentioned as a favourite weapon of the
witches. Even when eut up fine, they remain so hard that fhey will pierce a
person's intestines if they are mixed in his food. Common is also the fact that
the accusations originated from within the circle of close kin: it was Tsoung,
Moboma's uncle, who first complained about him and he played an important
role in the course of the affair, first helping Baba and later as a witness for the
prosecution in Court.
A basic element in the witchcraft discourse of the Maka - and in other
parts of the forest area of South Cameroon - is the notion that witches have a
special substance, the Maka call it djamb, in their belly which permits them to
leave their body. Potentially, everybody has a djamb but only special people
take the trouble to develop it. Those are the true mindjindjamb (witches). At
night, when the owl calls, they leave their body and fly away along invisible
threads (the tand-i-djamb) to the sjumbu, a kind of witches' sabbath where
fhey meet their accomplices. The climax of these nightly encounters are huge
cannibalistic banquets. Each witch has to offer one of his (or her) relatives.
The witches eat the heart of their victim, who immediately falls ¡11, He will
surely die, unless he finds a nganga, strong enough to force the witches to lift
their spell. The djamb belief of the Maka has many more aspects. It is part of
a complicated world view in which all of man's environment is animated. The
forces of the djamb lend themselves also for all sorts of more positive uses.
Djamb is indispensable for fhe exercise of aufhority (the djamb idjuga) or, in
former days to have success in war (the djamb-le-domb - 'witchcraft of war').
73
Peter Geschiere
And it is only because he (or she) possesses such a highly developed djamb
that the nganga can heal. But the dark core of this imagery, the cannibalistic
feasts where witches betray and eat their own kin, is a true obsession for the
Maka.
In the story above the nightly activities of the witches are supposed to
have acquired new aspects: Moboma's airstrip and his 'aéroplanes magiques'.
But this is certainly not uncommon. On the contrary, the Maka constantly mix
modern elements with their djamb-behef: the magical objects sold by mail by
Western firms are incorporated into the djamb imagery as easily as the
wonders of the modern technique. Another new element in this story - this
time not of Western origin - are the confessions by the boys that, on Mpande's
instigation, fhey had buried bamboo-splinters 'to block the progress of the
village'. This refers to the ngbati, a new form of witchcraft which according
to my informants was completely unknown to the villagers before the sixties.
It is supposed to have come from the Mvele (that is from the northwest). The
djambe belief of the Maka - and here again there are clear parallels with other
societies in the Cameroonian forest area - has nofhing 'traditional' : it is highly
innovative, constantly incorporating new elements - one could even say,
constantly following new 'fashions'.
10
The role of Baba, the nganga in this story, exhibits the same intertwinement of familiär and novel elements. Familiär is, for instance, the idea that
the nganga has to enter into a struggle with the witches and that he may be
'surprised' by them (as in Baba's complaint that Moboma had suddenly
attacked and nearly killed him, while he was destroying his magical air-strip).
Familiär also, is that the nganga is such a dangerous figure. As said before,
for the Maka, a nganga can only vanquish the witches because he himself is a
kind of super-witch. There is a strong belief fhroughout this area that a
nganga can only be initiated by his own 'professor' if he is prepared to
sacrifice one of his own relatives. The nganga can only heal because he (or
she) has killed."
But in Baba's performance, the novelties - compared, for instance, to
the behaviour of the nganga I knew in the seventies - are much more striking.
Some, moreover, seem to have far-reaching conséquences. There are some
formai innovations which, apparently, have a Christian background; for
instance, the 'incantations', he makes in Moboma's house (although, unfortunately, I could not persuade him to give more detailed information on this
point). In other respects as well, Baba is inclined to employ Christian elements: he burns candies when receiving his clients, has a cross hanging in his
'bureau' and employs ail sorts of 'sacred' books. The use of the flat-iron
'filled with burning coals' is another example of his innovative spirit. On this
point as well Baba shrouded himself in mystery and none of my informants
could give any explanation either. It seems to be a personal invention by Baba
himself, with no roots in Maka culture. Striking is also the publicity of Baba's
performance: he stages his 'discoveries' in front of a large crowd and seeks
publicity in ail sorts of ways. His predecessors in the seventies were far more
inclined to work in private.
74
The modernity of witchcraft
The most drastic novelty is of course that Baba forces the chief to pass the
whole affair on to the gendarmes and the Courts. In the seventies, the nganga
still tended to be afraid of making themselves much too visible for the state.
Of course, some of them also had clients amongst the highest ranks of the new
élite of state. But these were prívate, more or less hidden contacts. They were
rather afraid of the gendarmes since they were not at all sure to what extent
the state condoned their practice. Baba not only saw it as his duty to deliver
the witches to the gendarmes, he also acquired an important - and to the
villagers, highly prestigious position - as an expert witness at the Courts .
A n important theme in this case is the threat - and the lure - of new
forms of individualism. As in so many witchcraft affairs, the story can be read
as reflecting the struggle of the local community to maintain control over
ambitious individuáis in its midst, in this case Moboma and his companions,
who try in their own way to get access to the miracles of modern technique.
In this sense, the story seems to exemplify the levelling impact of the witchcraft discourse, helping to restore communitarian valúes against personal
ambition.
But if we focus on what actually happens in the daily world, it rather
reflects the other side of the same discourse, which, as said before, can also
serve to affirm the strong emphasis on personal ambition in these societies.
In fact, it is Baba, the witch-doctor, who uses the local conceptions of the
occult to further his own ambitions and to give the role of the nganga a new
kind of prestige. It is rather he who emerges from the story as a 'sovereign
subject', emancipating himself from communitarian restrictions. His collaboration with the gendarmes and the Courts gives the nganga role completely new
aspects. He reveáis himself as a true broker between the village and the
authoritarian state. Because of his past - he has served for some time in the
army - he has, at least in the villagers' eyes, considerable knowledge of the
new world outside the village. He introduces also all sorts of new magical
knowledge (his 'sacred' books, the ways in which he employs Christian
symbols etc.). The story indicates that Baba uses all this to give the role of the
nganga a new scope. To the villagers, a 'modern' nganga like Baba becomes
linked to the coercive apparatus of the state and it is because of this that he
seems to be better qualified to deal with the proliferation of witchcraft.
The case has similarly ambivalent implications if we focus on the
relation between djamb and violence. At first sight, the violence seems to
come from Moboma and his gang. The villagers directly linked their nocturnal
experiments with modern techniques to the series of deaths in the village. But,
again, in the daily world it is rather Baba who unlashes a formidable amount
of violence, which is, moreover, of a new type. The forceful way in which he
publicly exposes Moboma is already remarkable and rather different from the
more subtle ways in which nganga proceeded in the seventies. Even more
striking is that he does not proceed by trying to neutralize Moboma's powers
in order to 'cure' him, as nganga used to do. Instead, he delivers him to the
gendarmes. Since colonial times, the latter have become for the villagers the
very equivalent of violence. People believe that every suspect who is brought
1 2
13
75
Peter Geschiere
to their office receives first of all a 'warning', in fhe form of a thorough
thrashing. In fhe case above - as in most of fhe witchcraft files we could
consult - the judge adds his own kind of violence by condemning the accused
to a long period in jail. Because of the collaboration of fhe nganga with the
gendarmes and the judges, witchcraft rumours suddenly lead to a new sort of
violence.
14
The South: the murder of a witch and the dilemma of the State Attorney
Elsewhere in Cameroon, the judicial authorities seem to be more reluctant to
intervene so directly in witchcraft affairs. In the South and the Centre Province, however, where local forms of organization have similar segmentary
tendencies as in the East, there seems to be strong popular pressure on the
state to intervene. This was clearly illustrated by the following case with
which Cyprian Fisiy and I were confronted during a brief period of research
in Kribi, a small town on fhe coast of South Cameroon.
In 1991, fhe villagers of Ndoua, a small locality 30 kms to fhe
north-east of Kribi, dragged an old man to the gendarmes in
town. They insisted that he had already killed several people
with his witchcraft and that the village had to be rid of him.
The State Attorney looked into the matter but, after a few days,
he ordered the gendarmes to release fhe man since there were
no 'preuves tangibles' against him. The consequences were
dramatic. A few months later, the villagers set fhe house of the
old 'witch' on fire and he died in fhe flames. This was brought
to the attention of fhe gendarmes who immediately came to the
village and arrested 17 persons, all young men. In February
1992, they were still in prison.
We had the chance to discuss this affair with fhe new State
Attorney (the successor to the one who had released the old
man). He complained that the case put him in an impossible
dilemma. He insisted that he was a 'positivist': in principle, the
Court should only consider cases of witchcraft if there was
concrete proof (the 'preuves tangibles' mentioned before) of
physical aggression; in this sense his predecessor had acted
rightly. This also meant that now, he could not simply release
the young men; that would be condoning murder. On fhe other
hand, if fhe Court convicted the young men for having killed
fhe old man, people would say that fhe state protected the
witches and this was not acceptable either. Therefore, his
predecessor had acted wrongly after all: he should at least have
kept the old man in prison for some time until the excitement in
the village had died down.
76
The modernity of witchcraft
According to this State Attorney, the whole affair was typical of
the pressure exercised by the population on the judicial
authorities. He maintained that in most of these cases, the
initiative did come from below, while he and most of his
colleagues were rather inclined to stick to the 'positive spirit' of
the law. The great problem was, however, that on this point
the law did not 'correspond to our culture'. The state could not
neglect the urgent demands of the population to intervene
against witchcraft. The solution the State Attorney proposed for
his dilemma, during our interview with him, had quite
frightening implications. He concluded, that even if the letter of
the law in the strict sense did not allow for any actions against
such a witch, the Court should take account of the wishes of the
local Community which evidently wanted to get rid of a person
so umnimously suspected of witchcraft. The state had to ensure
order in society and therefore he feit, in any case, that he had to
take steps to remove such witches in one way or another from
local society.
15
16
In this case again, the link between witchcraft and violence is highly ambivalent. Moreover, it is complicated by the role of the state, be it in strikingly
different way s compared to our first case. To the villagers, it was clearly the
old man who had released violence in the village by his dark powers. In daily
practice, the roles seemed to be reversed: it were the young men who committed violence by effectively killing the old man. What is remarkable in this
case, is that there is no clear role played by a nganga, who is in principle the
obvious person to try and deal with such hidden violence. Apparently the
villagers feit that they had to put the matter directly into the hands of the
officials and that, since the state claimed complete control over violence, it
should also deal with the prolifération of witchcraft. Consequently, the first
State Attorney's refusai to be involved in the case, triggered a definitive act of
violence by the youngsters. One can sympathize with the second State Attorney's complaints about his predicament: the populär pressure on the state to
use its coercive apparatus against witchcraft indeed puts the judicial authorities
in a difficult position.
The West: zombies and the hidden violence of the new rieh
In the Western Provinces of Cameroon, especially, a different pattern has
evolved in the relationship between witchcraft, new forms of individualism
and violence. Here, for some decades now, rumours abound about a new form
of witchcraft which is closely linked to the new forms of wealfh and which
evokes specific patterns of violence and counter-violence.
Different terms are used for this new form of witchcraft: it is called
ekong in Douala, nyongo in the Southwest, ekom among the Bakossi and famla
11
Peter Geschiere
in the Northwest (the 'Grassfields') and in the West (among the Bamileke,
famous for their commercial talents). A general name is kupe, after Mount
Kupe (100 kms to the north of Douala) which plays as such a central, but
mysterious role in these beliefs. The basic story is, however, nearly the same
everywhere. These witches are no longer supposed to eat their victims as in
the older forms of witchcraft, but to transform them into a kind of zombie and
put fhem to work. Often these witches are said to transport their victims in
lorries to Mt. Kupe where fhey have to work on invisible plantations.
Throughout Cameroon, Mt. Kupe has thus become associated with mysterious and suspect - wealth.
Elsewhere, Cyprian Fisiy and I have tried to place these beliefs in a
broader historical and regional context. Most people see Douala, the main
harbour of this région, as the place from which these new forms of witchcraft
originated. They are often explicitly connected to the growing impact of
European trade in the 19fh Century. Only later the belief seems to have spread
into the Hinterland, together with the new consumption goods. It emerged
only towards the end of the colonial period in Bamilekeland, together with the
rise of new entrepreneurs in this area. Later, it reached the norfhwestern
Grassfields and only quite recently it became prevalent in the South, the
Centre and the East.
Characteristically, these beliefs again seem to interpret old elements in
a new context. Even this 'modern' form of witchcraft, often associated with
the new cities, is still closely connected with the familiar kinship patterns: the
witches are still supposed to deliver a close relative in order to become
member of the feared ekong associations and healing is only possible if the
nganga succeeds in reuniting the family. But these old elements are now
expressed in a new idiom, which has strong commercial - one could even say,
capitalist - overtones. Ekong witches are said to 'seil' their relatives; the
witches go to the 'market of sorcery' at night and it is from fhere that they
bring back their riches; they transport their victims 'in lorries' to 'invisible
plantations'.
17
18
19
In this form as well, the link between witchcraft and new forms of
wealth is highly ambivalent. The rumours about ekong, famla or kupe all seem
to express a deep distrust of the new rich who are supposed to owe their
success only to a new form of hidden violence, breaking through the old
communitarian restrictions. At the same time, these stories betray a trae
fascination with the new consumption goods which are seen as the manifestation par excellence of these hidden forces. Moreover, the concrete effects of
these rumours and accusations often seem to be quite limited. Warnier
observes that famla rumours are circulating, about nearly all successful
Bamileke entrepreneurs, without it really affecting their position.
It seems that especially the societies of the West and the Northwest from which, after Independence, a trae commercial bourgeoisie emerged,
which is now supposed to dominate the Cameroonian economy - have their
own mechanisms to legitimize the suspect forms of new wealth. This affects
both the role of the state and the implications of these witchcraft discourses
20
78
The modernity of witchcrqft
for the exercise of violence. It is quite striking that in these areas, despite the
général unrest about famla and kupe, there are as yet no parallels to the
witchcraft trials in the East. Neither are there clear signs of populär pressure
on the state to intervene against these new forms of witchcraft. It seems that
these societies have their own ways to control the violence evoked by these
new witchcraft rumours.
A very interesting manuscript, unfoitunately not yet published, by
Patrick Mbunwe-Samba from the Northwest, on 'Witchcraft, Magie and
Divination', is a rieh source of stories on kupe and famla. A characteristic
example is the following story about M r . Paul Ngong Langdji, who worked as
a headmaster in several towns of the Northwest; the story teils about his
frightening expériences when he returned to this home area but also about his
final triumph.
21
After many transfers in his long career, M r . Paul settled to
teaching among his own people in the village of Nkor in Noni
area in Bui Division. In this village, stories started circulating
that Paul was planning to give school children in for Kupe, that
in actual fact he had buried a pot in the school in which
children's finger nails were eut and stored and that the eventual
outcome would be that one day, when lightning Struck, it would
destroy a large number of school children all at once; some said
fifty would die! As these stories developed the village population began to get more and more anxious and disturbed. It is not
certain what the last straw was but we are told that the Parent
Teachers' Association (PTA) of the school organized a secret
meeting at which they resolved that Paul was practising
witchcraft and that the Senior Divisional Officer (SDO) should
be asked to transfer him. The P T A sent a copy of the letter they
had written to the Senior Divisional Officer to Paul. Paul
replied demanding that they prove their baseless allégations.
Instead of waiting to get a reply from the SDO whom they had
petitioned, the group came to school and drove Paul away from
the class and then began to plan to kill him by attacking his
entire household. The headmaster of the school was forewarned
of the plans being made to take Paul's life and he sneaked in, in
time to warn Paul and his children. They narrowly escaped
capture by exiting through the back door. The story of this
dramatic escape is told in many versions in Nkor today, some
even saying that Paul disappeared transformed!
If this plan had succeeded it would have shown how a few
people can scheme and manipulate a group to create problems
which could have far-reaching conséquences.
79
Peter Geschiere
We are told that Paul did not take this lying down. In the
following days, the forces of law and order descended on Nkor
and eight people were arrested and detained at Kumbo, the
divisional capital. We were informed that the case was actually
taken to the magistrate's court. The case was tried and the
suspects were discharged and acquitted on technical grounds,
because it was argued that there were women among the men
but they were not also arrested.
It is revealing to note that Paul stood as a candidate in the
parliamentary elections of April 1988 and the results from the
Noni area show a lot of support for him in spite of the feelings
of some Noni people about the case. This was indeed a very
encouraging sign. In our last interview with some Noni people
in July 1989 it was remarked that the population of Nkor has
now realised that there was actually no truth in the matter. The
Nkor people have now come to realise that there was a clique
behind the entire drama and are now friendly with Paul with
whom they not only drink together but also exchange visits.
The fact that Paul Langdji succeeded in standing for
parliamentary elections as a candidate for this area allows the
story to be seen in its correct perspective and reveals the
intrigues of some interested parties, who thought that they could
challenge his candidature in this way.
22
The most surprising element of the story is in the ending itself. Despite all the
backbiting, M r . Langdji enjoys a measure of success in one of the most
prestigious elections in the area. This seems to be a common pattern in similar
stories from the Northwest and the West: accusations of kupe or famla against
ambitious individuals create problems for them but ultimately do not seem to
harm their career. Elsewhere we argued that this may relate to the particularly important role of chiefs in this area. This is one of the great differences
with the segmentary societies from the forest area, discussed above. Both in
the West and the Northwest there is a strong tradition of chieftaincy which
goes back centuries before colonial rule. In many respects, the chiefs in these
areas seem to have consolidated their powers despite all the changes in
colonial and post-colonial times. Even to the modern elites from this area,
who now live in cities elsewhere in the country, chieftaincy is still a crucial
issue. In various ways, the chiefs have succeeded in incorporating these new
elites into the association of their court.
In the Mbunwe-Samba's story above, the chief does not figure. But in
most of his other stories, chiefs play a central role. In some cases, they appear
to support local accusations of kupe against ambitious individuals. But in
others, they protect the accused and seem rather intent on associating them and
their new wealth to the court. Cyprian Fisiy, who is from the same area,
23
24
80^
The modernity of witchcraft
emphasizes that all depends on whether the new wealth is 'dedicated' - he
speaks also of 'offered' - to the chief. Already in pre-colonial times,
accumulation of wealth through trade abroad used to be very important in
these societies. The chief was supposed to act as a kind of pivot in the
enrichment of his subjects: it depended on his powers whether they had
success in dealing with parties from outside the realm. Wealth, accumulated
outside the chief's control was seen as asocial and indeed associated with
witchcraft. But wealth which was legitimized by the chief's blessing was
viewed as the fruit of rightful personal ambition.
As said before, most chiefs in this area are intent on participating in
the new forms of wealth as well. They create novel, 'pseudo-traditional', titles
at their courts which are bought by the new elites, who succeeded in making a
career in the new centres of power outside the chiefdom (but who by descent
are often not qualified to assume the pre-existing titles). Thus the chiefs
succeed both in profiting directly from the new wealth of their subjects abroad
and in incorporating them in the traditional associations around the court.
Another effect is that the new wealth of these subjects, which all too often is
highly suspect, is 'white-washed', as Fisiy calls it. In these areas, the chiefs
seem to be acting as a kind of crystallization point for legitimising the new
forms of wealth, which is so blatantly missing in the segmentary societies of
the forest discussed above.
From all this an original pattern emerges in the relations between
witchcraft, individualising tendencies and violence. The famla and kupe
imagery expresses strong suspicions vis-a-vis the new forms of wealth which
are attributed to dangerous individual ambitions and new forms of hidden
violence. It can evoke violent reactions, as Mbunwe-Samba's story about the
conflict between Mr. Paul Langdji and the Parent Teachers' Association of his
school indicates. But it seems that the chiefs have been able to evolve their
control over wealth and violence, so as to keep up with the modern changes.
By incorporating the new forms of wealth within the traditional associations of
their court they are supposed to keep the hidden violence of famla and kupe in
check. Therefore, they are also in a position to control the counter-violence
that kupe and famla rumours evoke.
This is certainly important as a background to the success of new
entrepreneurs from these societies: here, new forms of individual success are,
at least to a certain extent, still incorporated in the communitarian institutions
of the chief's court. This in sharp contrast with the general distrust of the
new forms of wealth in the forest societies, which still seem to constitute an
unresolved problem there. It can also explain why the state is far less involved
in witchcraft affairs in the West and the Northwest, despite the general unrest
about kupe and famla. The chiefs still seem to be able to control the violence
and the counter-violence called forth by the rumours about these new forms of
witchcraft.
One can wonder, however, whether the chiefs will retain, in these
areas as well, the moral power to do so in the future. Their close alliance with
the new elites and the selling of new titles seem to involve them also in a quite
25
26
27
28
29
81
Peter Geschiere
30
ruthless pursuit of the new forms of wealth. Goheen, writing about Nso - the
chiefdom to which the Noni area of the case above, also belongs - summarizes
the doubts of the population with a powerful image: Will these businessmen
and civil servants who buy these novel titles from the chief really mm out to
be his 'new léopards' with whom he will ride at night, himself transformed as
a lion, in order to protect the realm? Or will they prove to be 'witches of the
night' who will corrupt his power from the inside?.
31
Conclusion
The above may indicate why discourses on sorcery/witchcraft remain so highly
relevant for many Africans, in interpreting fhe modem changes and (re)defining identities in the face of these changes. By their very nature, these
discourses seem to address what are both the most frightening and fascinating
aspects of modernity: the émergence of new inequalities and novel forms of
individualism, accompanied by new patterns of violence. Indeed, these
discourses often make a direct link between individualism, communitarian
reactions and violence.
The preceeding also indicates that discourses on the occult sketch
highly different scénarios in the interaction between individual ambition and
violence. In some contexts, witchcraft is supposed to combat the new inequalities by forms of violence which can remain hidden, but which can also
become highly concrete. In other contexts, the same discourse seems to affirm
and encourage individual ambition - which, after all, is nothing new to these
societies. The famla powers with which, for instance, many successful
Bamileke entrepreneurs are associated are often supposed to be so formidable
that they make them invulnerable to levelling reactions. There is a clear
contrast here with the societies of the southern forest area, where witchcraft
mainly seems to act as a levelling force.
In this paper, which offers no more fhan a first and rapid comparison,
this différence was mainly related to the rôle of fhe Chiefs who, in the West,
serve as a crystallization point for legitimising fhe new, suspect forms of
wealth. In the forest, such a crystallization point is clearly lacking. Consequently, the new forms of accumulation seem to remain an unsolved problem
here.
However, it might be worthwhile to try and deepen this comparison.
No doubt, other, more hidden factors play a rôle as well. A n obvious thème to
analyze more deeply is doubtless the relation between witchcraft and kinship
which is basic in ail these discourses. Warnier and Rowlands emphasize that
there are fundamental différences between kinship discourses - and their
implications for new forms of accumulation - in the West and in the southem
forests. In the West, kinship itself would offer certain forms of protection
against the 'stratégies of disaccumulation' which are so dominant in the
kinship relations in the forest area. Such différences must have direct
32
82
The modernity of witchcraft
consequences for the ways in which kinship articulates with witchcraft,
personal ambition and violence.
Finally, the above shows how vital a role the state has come to play as a
catalyst in witchcraft affairs and their implications for individualism and
violence. Apparently, in this field (as, probably, in any other field), the state
should not be seen as a conscious actor. Despite the general fear among state
officials for the levelling force of witchcraft, they do not seem to follow a
common, well-defined strategy. It is not even clear to what extent the drastic
interventions of the state courts in the East Province are the result of a clear
political choice. One can interpret them also as a sign that officials are giving
in to strong popular pressures on the state to intervene. In this context, 'the
state' can better be seen as a crucial arena - a power-field - which is more and
more pervaded by the hidden forces of witchcraft.
Again, there is a striking contrast here between the West, where people
seem to be more intent on keeping the state at bay, and the forest societies,
where it becomes increasingly impossible for the state not to be involved.
Historically, there is a tragic paradox here. During the first decades of
colonial rule, it was precisely these segmentary societies, not used to any kind
of central authority, which strongly resisted the imposition of the state and the
new forms of domination and violence it brought. Now, these same societies
seem to feel themselves so unable to solve their internal conflicts that they
appeal to the state to intervene in the most private of spheres, that of witchcraft and kinship. Clearly, the harshest forms of violence in the stories above at least if one focusses on what happened in the daily world - were unleashed
by an unholy alliance of the local witch-doctors with the state.
Bibliography:
Ardener, E . , 'Witchcraft, économies and the continuity of belief in: M . Douglas, éd.,
Witchcraft, confessions and accusations (London 1970) 141-160.
Balz, H . , Where thefaith has to live. Studies in Bakossi society and religion (Basel 1984)
Copet-Rougier, E., 'Catégories d'ordres et réponses aux désordres chez les Mkako de
Cameroun', Droit et Cultures 11 (1986) 79-88.
Ejedepang-Koge, The tradition of a people: Bakossi (Yaoundé 1971).
Fisiy, C F . , Power and privilège in the administration of law - land law reforms and social
differentiation in Cameroon (Leiden 1992).
Fisiy, C F . , and P. Geschiere, 'Judges and witches, or how is the state to deal with
witchcraft? Examples from Southeastern Cameroon', Cahiers d'Etudes Africaines 118 (1990)
135-56.
83
Peter Geschiere
Fisiy, C F . , and P. Geschiere, 'Sorcery, witchcraft and accumulation - Régional variations in
South and West Cameroon', Critique of Anthropology 11,3 (1991) 251-278.
Fisiy, C F . , and P. Geschiere, 'Sorcery discourses and the valuation of people/things Examples from Southern and Western Cameroon' (paper ASA Conférence, Seattle 1992).
Geschiere, P., Village communities and the state: changing relations among the Maka of
Southeastem Cameroon (London 1982).
Geschiere, P., 'Sorcery and the state', Critique of Anthropology 8 (1988) 35-63.
Geschiere, P., La viande des autres. Sorcellerie et politique au Cameroun (Paris i.p.).
Geschiere, P., and P. Konings, éd., Les itinéraires d'accumulation au Cameroun I Pathways
to accumulation in Cameroon (Paris 1993).
Goheen, M . , 'Gender and accumulation in Nso' in: Geschiere and Konings, éd., Pathways,
241-272.
Goheen, M . , Men own the fields, women own the crops. Gender andpower in the Cameroon
highlands (Madison i.p.).
Guyer, J., 'Wealth in people and self-realization in Equatorial Africa', Man (N.S.) 28,2
(1993)243-256.
Jewsiewicki, B., 'La violence et la production du sujet souverain, réflexions sur les sociétés
post-coloniales et post-soviétiques avec une place spéciale pour l'Afrique' (call for papers for a
seminar on violence, Paris, MSH, May 1994).
Laburthe-Tolra, P., Minlaaba, histoire et société traditionnelle chez les Beti du Sud Cameroun
(Paris 1977).
Mallart Guimera, L . , Ni dos ni ventre (Paris 1981).
Mbembe, A . , 'Provisional notes on the postcolony', Africa 62,1 3-38.
Mbunwe-Samba, P., Witchcraft, magie and divination. A personal testimony (Bamenda 1989).
Rosny, E. de, Les yeux de ma chèvre. Sur les pas des maitres de la nuit en pays douala (Paris
1981)
Rosny, E. de, L'Afrique des guérisons (Paris 1992)
Rowlands, M . , 'Economie dynamism and cultural stereotyping in the Bamenda Grassfields' in:
Geschiere and Konings, éd., Pathways, 71-99.
Warnier, J.-P., Echanges, développement et hiérarchies dans le Bamenda précolonial
(Cameroun) (Stuttgart 1985).
Warnier, J.-P., L'esprit d'entreprise au Cameroun (Paris 1993).
84
The modernity of witchcraft
Notes:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
A brief note on terminology might be required here. I have serious misgivings about
using terms like sorcery or witchcraft (or 'sorcellerie'). In general these Western
terms are awkward translations of African notions which have much broader
implications. Often a less pejorative and more neutral translation, like 'occult forces'
might be preferable. The problem is, however, that these Western terms have now
generally been appropriated by Africans (also in public discussions, newspapers etc.).
Therefore I prefer, despite these misgivings, to retain these terms. Moreover, I do not
follow the classical anthropological discussion between 'witchcraft' and 'sorcery',
proposed by Evans-Pritchard on the basis of his Azande material, since it is hard to
apply in the Cameroonian societies discussed here.
Mbembe, 'Provisional notes'.
Geschiere, 'Sorcery and the state'.
In colonial times and in the first decades after Independence, state courts rather
tended to prosecute the witch-doctors (for defamation and breach of peace, because of
their accusing persons to be witches). This made the people in many parts of Africa
complain that the state was protecting the witches, because it hindered the witchdoctor to combat them. As a friend in the East of Cameroon explained to me, in
1971: 'You whites do not believe in witchcraft. Therefore, in colonial times, the state
could not act against witchcraft. But now, all this is going to change. Nowadays it is
the Africans who are in command and they know witchcraft is all too real here. Soon
the law will be changed, so that judges will be able to deal with the witches'. Apparently not even a change in the law was necessary to intervene more directly. In this
Province, state courts are now indeed condemning witches, as my friend predicted,
but on the basis of an existing - and fairly vague - article on 'sorcellerie' in the
Cameroonian Code Penal (which is heavily inspired by the French Code). See Fisiy
and Geschiere, Judges and witches.
The Maka characterize the former relations between the villages as domb - a term
which they now translate as 'war'. This translation can have incorrect associations:
war was not continuous; rather there was a constant threat of aggression,
manslaughter and raids (see Geschiere, Village communities and the state).
This basic, segmentary pattern is to be found throughout the forest area of southern
Cameroun. There is a fundamental contrast here with the chiefly societies of the
mountain area of West and Northwest Cameroon, where more complex hierarchies
had evolved and which will be discussed in a later section of this paper.
Geschiere, Village communities and the state.
Due to the kind assistance of a Cameroonian colleague, Cyprian F.Fisiy (now in the
USA), I have been able to consult 22 files of witch trials in the East, covering a
period between August 1982 and December 1984. Fisiy found these files in the
archives of the Court of Appeal in Bertoua (the capital of the East Province). Most
files also contained copies of an earlier trial of the same case before one of the
'Tribunaux de Première Instance' in this province. Moreover, I collected detailed
information on six other cases in various Maka villages. On the basis of this material,
Fisiy and I published several articles together (Fisiy and Geschiere, 'Judges and
witches', 'Sorcery, witchcraft and accumulation' and 'Sorcery discourses'). I thank
him for a most stimulating collaboration and for his kind permission to reproduce the
following case here.
Sources for this case: Jugement du Tribunal d'Abong-Mbang, no. 1163/cor; doss.
83.400.762/PG/BE, 1982-3, arrêt no.8/cor, 4-10-1983, Cour d'Appel, Bertoua; and
my own investigations in the village. The names of the village and the accused here
are pseudonyms. However, I have retained the real name of the 'professeur-guéris-
85
Peter Geschiere
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
86
seuf Baba Denis, since he has become a public figure by his regular appearances as
an expert witness before the state courts.
It is especially because the djamb forces lend themselves also to such more positive
uses that the translation by 'sorcellerie' (witchcraft/sorcery) - which is very common
among the Maka nowadays - has unfortunate associations (see above and Geschiere,
La viande des autres).
See also Mallart, Ni dos ni ventre on the Evuzok of South Cameroon and CopetRougier, 'Catégories d'ordres' on the Kako, to the north-west of the Maka.
Baba, and a colleague of his, a certain Aliguéna, who enjoyed a similar prestige in
this area, played a decisive role in seven of the twenty-two Court cases of which we
could consult the files. In none of these seven cases were any of the accused
acquitted.
Cf. Guyer, 'Wealth in people', who views the drive towards 'multiple personal selfrealization' as characteristic for the societies of the Equatorial forest. In the Maka
area, this emphasis on personal ambition is restrained by strong levelling mechanisms
(the close link between witchcraft and jealousy; the segmentary implications of the
kinship discourse). Elsewhere, I have described the tension between personal ambition
and levelling mechanisms as characteristic for this society, in the past as well as
nowadays (Geschiere, Village communities and the state).
This collaboration also seems to be accompanied by the emergence of a new type of
nganga who emphatically sport modern attributes (books, sunglasses; Baba has also a
large sign on his 'bureau' telling that he is affiliated to the 'Rose Croix', a Western
and more or less secret association which is very popular among the new elite in
Cameroon). These nganga are also much more aggressive in their accusations: they
often take the initiative to point out witches (clearly, they try in this way to recruit
new clients, who are told that they urgently need the services of the nganga to protect
themselves against these witches) and they do not deem it necessary to shroud their
accusations in vague allusions, as nganga often used to do in the seventies. By
handing over the accused to the gendarmes - instead of curing them - these modern
nganga become highly punitive figures. One can wonder whether this does not affect
their capacity to heal (see Geschiere, La viande des autres).
It seems that in this respect he differed from his colleagues in the East, who do feel
that the law allows them to convict witches without 'preuves tangibles'. Apparently
different interpretations of the law are possible on this point. According to our
information, the Cour Suprême in Yaounde (the capital) did uphold the verdict of the
Bertoua Court in the few cases that the convicted 'witches' appealed against their
conviction. The State Attorney in Kribi maintained that neither he or his colleagues
had received clear guidelines from above in the matter.
Unfortunately, during my last visit to Kribi (1993), I could not get any information
about the further course of this affair.
See Fisiy and Geschiere, 'Sorcery, witchcraft and accumulation', and Geschiere, La
viande des autres. See also the very vivid descriptions of De Rosny (Les yeux de ma
chèvre and L'Afrique des guérisons) of his own experiences with ekong and healing in
Douala; also Ardener, 'Witchcraft', on the Bakweri; and Balz, Where the faith has to
live, and Ejedepang-Koge, The tradition of a people, on the Bakossi.
There it is called kong. According to some informants, kong also played a role in the
preceeding case from Kribi (supposedly, the villagers were very upset by the
witchcraft of the old man since it concerned this new form).
The word 'plantations' has particularly strong connotations in this area. Already at the
end of the 19th century, the Germans had created here one of the few large-scale
plantation complexes in West Africa. The recruitment of plantation labour - at first
through direct coercion or by the intermediary of the chiefs, later through more
The modernity of witchcraft
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
commercial forms of wage-labour (already in the thirties a true labour market had
developed) - affected the whole western part of Cameroon.
Warnier, L'esprit d'entreprise.
Mbunwe-Samba, Witchcraft, magie and divination.
Ibidem, 56-58.
Cf. also a similar story by Fisiy referring to another village in the same area (Fisiy
and Geschiere, 'Sorcery, witchcraft and accumulation').
Fisiy and Geschiere, 'Sorcery, witchcraft and accumulation' and 'Sorcery discourses'.
Fisiy, Power and privilege; cf. also Fisiy and Geschiere, 'Sorcery discourses'.
Warnier, Echanges, développement et hiérarchies.
Goheen, 'Gender and accumulation', and Men own the fields.
See also Warnier, L'esprit d'entreprise.
Indeed, from the case above of Paul Langdji, a reverse pattern émerges (compared to
the cases from the South and the East). In Langdji's case, it was he who appealed to
the court (and not his accusers). Apparently, the court was determined not to become
involved in this case. It more or less protected Langdji against the witchcraft
accusations. But it refused to deliver a clear verdict with an excuse that seemed quite
thin (that women had been among Langdji's attackers but they had not been arrested).
The contrast with the readiness of the courts in the East to intervene in a most
inequivocal sense against the witches is quite striking.
Cf. Fisiy, Power and privilege.
Goheen, Men own the fields.
Warnier, L'esprit d'entreprise, and Rowlands, 'Economie dynamism'.
87