Smith 2001

Africa
http://journals.cambridge.org/AFR
Additional services for Africa:
Email alerts: Click here

Subscriptions: Click here
Commercial reprints: Click here
Terms of use : Click here
‘The Arrow of God’: Pentecostalism, Inequality, and the Supernatural in

South-Eastern Nigeria
Daniel Jordan Smith
Africa / Volume 71 / Issue 04 / November 2001, pp 587 - 613

DOI: 10.3366/afr.2001.71.4.587, Published online: 03 March 2011
Link to this article: http://journals.cambridge.org/abstract_S0001972000090422
How to cite this article:

Daniel Jordan Smith (2001). ‘The Arrow of God’: Pentecostalism, Inequality, and the Supernatural in South-Eastern Nigeria.
Africa, 71, pp 587-613 doi:10.3366/afr.2001.71.4.587
Request Permissions : Click here
Downloaded from http://journals.cambridge.org/AFR, IP address: 128.233.210.97 on 19 Mar 2015

Africa 71 (4), 2001
`THE ARROW OF GOD'

PENTECOSTALISM, INEQUALITY, AND THE
SUPERNATURAL IN SOUTH-EASTERN NIGERIA
Daniel Jordan Smith
In September 1996 the city of Owerri in south-eastern Nigeria erupted

in riots over popular suspicions that the town's nouveaux riches were
responsible for a spate of child kidnappings and alleged ritual murders.
The weekend prior to the riots, a local television station broadcast
pictures of a man holding the freshly severed head of a child. The video
was accompanied by an announcement that the man with the head had
been arrested the previous day. The police wanted to know the identity
of the child and were asking for the public's assistance. The next day,
the alleged murderer died in police custody. Rumours of his death
spread quickly and the public suspected that he was deliberately
silenced to prevent him from revealing elite involvement in the crime.
Two days later, the police dug up the headless body of the murdered
child in the compound of Otokoto Hotel, where his alleged killer had
worked. A crowd gathered as the police unearthed the child's headless
corpse. After the police left the scene, the onlookers burned the hotel.
The mob then moved to a nearby department store that catered to the
rich and set it on fire. From there, the crowd grew still larger and moved
across the city, burning many of Owerri's most select stores and hotels,
focusing on businesses reputedly owned by the nouveaux riches.
The rioting and burning continued into the next day, sparked by the
alleged discovery the next morning of a roasted human corpse at the
residence of `Damaco', one of Owerri's young `millionaires'. In
addition, word spread of the purported finding of human skulls and
`human meat pepper soup' at the Overcomers Christian Mission, the
pentecostal church where Damaco worshipped. Before the riots
subsided and Nigeria's military government imposed a strict curfew,
more than twenty-five buildings and dozens of vehicles had been
torched. In addition to the high-class stores and hotels, and the houses
of many of Owerri's young elite, the mob razed the Overcomers
Christian Mission church, its pastor's residence, and a number of other
pentecostal churches and religious houses in the town.
In retrospective popular accounts and in the explosion of press
coverage that followed, the Owerri riots were portrayed as a religious
cleansing. The destruction of property was widely viewed as a popular
uprising against the connected evils of child kidnapping, ritual murder,
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
DANIEL JORDAN SMITH is Assistant Professor of Anthropology and Population Studies at
Brown University in Providence RI. In 1999 he received his doctorate in anthropology from
Emory University for his thesis `Having People: fertility, family, and modernity in Igbo-
speaking Nigeria'.
http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

588 THE OWERRI RIOTS OF 1996
and the attainment of illegitimate `fast wealth'.1 The men whose

properties were destroyed in the riots were thought to have achieved
their prosperity using satanic rituals.
The Owerri riots and the symbolic power of ritual murder and satanic
wealth must certainly be understood in the context of Nigeria's growing
social and economic inequalities. But, just as interesting, unhappiness
about inequality and the popular discourses it produced became
entangled with emerging contests over pentecostal Christianity. In
many respects, pentecostal Churches in Nigeria have positioned
themselves against the social forces perceived to be responsible for
inequality, forces that are locally understood to be supernatural as well
as political and economic. The growth of pentecostalism is associated
with popular discontent over poverty and inequality and with people's
aspirations to achieve wealth and prosperity. In sub-Saharan Africa,
where disparities in wealth and power are commonly linked with and
explained by the supernatural (Geschiere, 1997; Comaroff and
Comaroff, 1993, 1999), the ability to combat witchcraft and black
magic is part of the appeal of `born again' Christian Churches (Meyer,
1998a). However, in the aftermath of the Owerri riots, public debates
about prosperity, poverty and black magic came to implicate some of
the very Christian Churches that preached most fervently against
`traditional' supernatural beliefs and practices. In this article I examine
the place of religion in the Owerri crisis, particularly the central position
of pentecostal Christianity in popular interpretations of the riots. While
pentecostalism itself fuelled local interpretations that `fast wealth' and
inequality were the product of satanic rituals, popular rumours
simultaneously accused some churches of participating in the very
occult practices that created instant prosperity and tremendous
inequality.
My analysis of the complex and contradictory place of pentecostalism
in the Owerri crisis depends on recognising the relationship of
pentecostalism to structures of inequality rooted in patron±clientism,
and on understanding the ways in which disparities in power in Nigeria
are interpreted and negotiated through idioms of the supernatural. I
argue that pentecostal Churches encouraged interpretations of inequal-
ity that tied economic and political power to the world of the occult
and, albeit unintentionally, invited suspicions of their own involvement
in satanic practices. Even as Nigerian pentecostalism condemns
practices of the occult as satanic it stands precariously close to the
world of witchcraft. Widely disseminated stories of being `born again'
regularly describe in great detail pre-conversion involvement in the
occult (Marshall, 1993; Meyer, 1995). As Marshall (personal commu-
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1
In Nigeria, popular images of `fast wealth' accumulated through illegitimate and magical
means long preceded the Owerri riots. The oil boom of the 1970s generated many stories of
`fast wealth' that alluded to rituals of the occult (see Barber, 1982; Watts, 1992). However, the
accusations that circulated in Owerri after the beheading of 11-year-old Ikechukwu Okonkwo
specifically implicated pentecostal Churches, something I have not found in previously
documented popular discourses about `fast wealth'.

THE OWERRI RIOTS OF 1996 589
nication, 2001) suggests, pentecostalism `does more than provide
cautionary tales, it also displays a profound knowledge of such things,
knowledge which . . . displays an ontological ambivalence'. Further,
pentecostalism is positioned in somewhat problematic and contra-
dictory ways vis-aÁ-vis Nigeria's clientelistic political economy. While
pentecostal preaching is often highly critical of the `corruption' that
underlies Nigeria's vast inequalities, promises of prosperity and the
emergence of great wealth within the pentecostal community have
stimulated a kind of counter-critique that exploded in the Owerri riots.
I begin by setting out the theoretical context for my interpretation of
the events in Owerri, exploring issues of prosperity, power, and
inequality in the realms of pentecostalism, the occult, and the
patrimonial system of patronage that dominates Nigeria's political
economy. I then provide a more detailed ethnographic account of the
Owerri crisis and the popular discourses that it generated. Finally, I
conclude with an analysis of the events in Owerri. I argue that the riots
reveal the tensions created as Nigerian Christians try to manage and
negotiate aspirations to wealth, desires for a meaningful Christian life,
and the changing structure of inequality as power is loosened from its
moorings in the reciprocal obligations of kinship.
PENTECOSTALISM, PROSPERITY AND INEQUALITY

Pentecostalism in Nigeria is not a monolithic entity. As Marshall (1991,
1993, 1998b) has emphasised, `born again' Churches span a wide
spectrum with regard to their teachings on issues of wealth and
consumption, ranging from the renunciation of material ostentation to
promises of prosperity that associate the accumulation and display of
wealth with God's blessings. Pentecostalism is increasingly popular in
Nigeria, and `born again' Churches are surely the fastest-growing
Christian congregations in the country. While the motives of converts
are multiple and cannot be reduced to political or economic aspirations,
pentecostalism's popularity in south-eastern Nigeria stems, in part,
from the fact that, in some of its guises, it promises wealth and success.
Marshall estimates that in Nigeria adherents of so-called `holiness'
Churches, which focus on austere ethical living rather than on the
achievement of material success, still significantly outnumber members
of `prosperity' Churches (1993: 218). But public perceptions of
pentecostalism in south-eastern Nigeria in the mid-1990s focused on
the dramatic growth of pentecostal Churches promising prosperity.
Further, as Marshall herself attests for Nigeria (1998b), and others have
pointed out in different African contexts (e.g. Maxwell, 2000, for
Zimbabwe), `holiness' Churches have increasingly relaxed their
doctrines of material renunciation and have begun to look more like
`prosperity' Churches in their outlook on wealth and political power.
Pentecostalism is positioned in somewhat contradictory ways in
relation to Nigeria's patronage-oriented political economy. On the one
hand, pentecostal Church leaders preach fervently against state
corruption and the distribution of Nigeria's wealth through networks

of patronage based on ties of ethnicity, place of origin, and kinship. On

the other hand, pentecostalists have begun to create their own
patronage networks and the social structure of the pentecostal
community is increasingly hierarchical (Marshall, 1998b). The attrac-
tions and contradictions of pentecostalism are intertwined with its
complex relationship with processes of social change in contemporary
Nigeria. Pentecostalism helps Nigerians negotiate their society's
changing political, economic, and moral terrain, while at the same
time contributing to those changes. Like Meyer (1995, 1998a, b), who
has studied pentecostalism in southern Ghana, Marshall (1998a)
argues that Nigerian pentecostalism is a `modernist' project in which
issues of political exclusion, frustrated economic aspirations, and
overburdened kinship networks are confronted and renegotiated. I
argue that the popularity of pentecostal Christianity in south-eastern
Nigeria is simultaneously a product of strains created in community and
extended family ties by social transformations that threaten individual
allegiance to and ability to rely on kin-based social networks and an
important engine in furthering this process.
While pentecostal Churches in south-eastern Nigeria attract converts
of both sexes, all ages, and the full range of socio-economic positions, I
think it is accurate to say that the fast-growing `prosperity' Churches in
south-eastern Nigeria are disproportionately dominated by the younger
generation. Pentecostalism offers a cultural space within which young
Nigerians can make sense of the difficult life courses they face in
contemporary Nigeria, providing individuals with a social and moral
position from which to renegotiate obligations to their kin groups and
communities. Young Nigerians feel increasing tension between their
largely unfulfilled individual desires to prosper and the continuing
obligation to share what little they accumulate with their extended
families. Pentecostalism delivers social and moral alternatives, perhaps
justifying a more individualistic approach to the world, but certainly
offering new networks of social ties with which to try to negotiate
Nigeria's political economy (Marshall-Fratani, 1998a).
Cecilia, a 27-year-old `born again' Christian who worked as a
secretary in a government office in Owerri, described her attraction to
pentecostalism this way:
The only way forward in this Nigeria is through faith in Jesus Christ. The
society is corrupted. Our leaders have been seduced by the devil. The only
reason I am able to work here is because my oga is also `born again'. If not for
that, the pressure will be too much.2 It is not easy, but I know, if I remain
true to God, He will reward me.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
2
In Nigerian English oga refers to a boss or patron. Cecilia's statement implies that perhaps
she received (and accepted) her job based on her ties to the pentecostal community. Her
insinuation that, were it not for her boss's `born again' status, `the pressure will be too much'
has multiple possible meanings, including the dreaded expectation that young women provide
sexual favours in exchange for a male patron's assistanceÐsomething clearly frowned on in the
pentecostal community.

Uzoma, a 21-year-old unemployed secondary school graduate who
migrated to the city from his rural village when his family could not
afford to send him to university, told of the support he receives from his
congregation:
My father could not afford to send me to university. He has two wives and
eleven children. My family expects me to help train my juniors, but how can
I when I cannot even find a job? In Nigeria there are no jobs unless you know
somebody. My father is a poor farmer. . . . Until I was `born again' I did not
have anyone to assist me. Now I have many brothers and sisters and I know
that if I follow Jesus He will deliver me. That is my only hope and the only
hope for Nigeria.
Most young `born again' Christians in Owerri struggle economically,

but the hopes of Cecilia and Uzoma reflect the widely shared `born
again' belief that God will reward true believers. While these young
Christians remained emotionally and morally bound to their families
and natal communities, their membership in `born again' communities
provided an additional source of support and an arena of alternative
allegiances that repositioned them in Nigeria's political economy. Many
young `born again' Christians imagined, hoped for, and believed in a
radical reconfiguring of power in Nigeria, in which faith in Christ and
being `born again' would become the ultimate criteria of status and
success. Young `born again' Christians, following their pastors,
frequently talked about a kind of millennial cleansing of Nigeria in
which society would be swept clean of corruption and immorality.
The new breed of pentecostal Churches, their entrepreneurial
pastors, and their prosperity-seeking congregations stand in a kind of
paradoxical position, promoting a morality that condemns corruption
and idolatry, but providing a moral justification (and, perhaps to some
extent, the social foundation) for individual ambition and accumula-
tion. Pentecostalism both addresses and exacerbates tensions between
individual desires and continued obligations to kin and community.
Becoming `born again' is so popular in south-eastern Nigeria in part
because it seems to provide a solution to the impossible contradictions
between increasing (and increasingly frustrated) individual ambition
and the ceaseless burdens created by continuing obligations to one's
extended family and community of origin (Meyer, 1995). But the
targeting of pentecostal Churches in the Owerri riots and subsequent
discourses of complaint about pentecostalism suggest that Nigerians
find prosperity unleashed from the obligations of reciprocity at least as
problematic as the burdens imposed by continuing ties to kin and
community.
SUPERNATURAL INTERPRETATIONS OF INEQUALITY

The `pentecostal critique' of politics, power, and inequality in
contemporary Nigeria draws on a much longer African legacy in
which the accumulation of wealth and power is explained in terms of

witchcraft and the occult (Geschiere, 1997; Rowlands and Warnier,

1988). As in the past, contemporary inequalities in sub-Saharan Africa,
including in south-eastern Nigeria, have been articulated and publicly
debated using idioms of the supernatural (Bastian, 1993). Traditional
African responses to inequality explained by witchcraft often relied on
invoking countervailing `positive' occult forces to protect against or
reverse the effects of black magic. The pentecostal construction of evil
associates all forms of the occult with the work of the devil and
conceives of the battle of good and evil in the human world as a battle
between God and the devil.
Few of the popular stories about the young millionaires in Owerri
that circulated after the riots referred to them specifically as `witches'.
Nonetheless, I think it is fair to say that stories of child kidnappings,
ritual killings, trade in body parts, and other magical practices form part
of a dynamic cultural complex for which `witchcraft' serves as a crude
but widely recognised label. Like Geschiere (1997), I am not much
concerned with debates over terminology. Much more important is
understanding why stories of the occult are so prominent in Africans'
interpretations of power and inequality in contemporary society, and in
this case, how these accusations subsumed pentecostal Christianity.
A growing literature has explored the way in which emerging and
exacerbated inequalities in sub-Saharan Africa are played out in
discourses about the occult (Comaroff and Comaroff, 1999; Geschiere,
1997; White, 1997). Much of this literature focuses on understanding
what Geschiere (1997) has called `the modernity of witchcraft'. The
anthropology of witchcraft in contemporary Africa emphasises that
occult happenings and the popular dialogues they engender
are not archaic or exotic phenomenon, somehow isolated or disjointed from
historical processes of global political and economic transformation. Rather,
these are moral discourses alive to the basic coordinates of experience, highly
sensitive to contradictions in economy and society. [Auslander, 1993: 168]
Anthropologists have long interpreted witchcraft as being about

moralities related to production and reproduction (Ardener, 1970).
Witchcraft accusations respond to and address the social, moral, and
emotional consequences of selfishness, greed, and excessive accumula-
tion in societies organised around obligations of reciprocal exchange.
The prototypical witch consumes her kin to satisfy avaricious desires.
The failures of production and reproduction of some people and the
dramatic successes of others are explained and acted on or against
through accusations of witchcraft.
While acknowledging that modern discourses of the occult have long
histories and important continuities with the past (White, 1993; Shaw,
1997), the Comaroffs (1999) and others (Fisiy and Geschiere, 1991;
Geschiere, 1997) have argued that the proliferation of witchcraft in
post-colonial Africa is directly related to the penetration of capitalism
and the articulation of the local and the global. The essential condition
that gives rise to òccult economies' (Comaroff and Comaroff, 1999) is

inequality. But it is an inequality marked simultaneously by resentment
and attraction. In other words, people not only resent the gross
disparities of wealth in modern African society, but also wish that they
could be the beneficiaries of great wealth (Barber, 1982: 448±9; Meyer,
1995: 249).
Much of the literature on the proliferation of witchcraft in modern
Africa has focused on the dramatic nature of contemporary inequality
(Bayart, 1993), and on the fact that capitalist penetration and post-
colonial politics have produced wealth and disparity by means that are
largely beyond the view and control of everyday people (Comaroff and
Comaroff, 1999: 284).
Witchcraft accusations distil `complex material and social processes
into comprehensible human motives' (ibid.: 286). The targets of
witchcraft accusations are often old women, who represent the
constraints of kinship obligations and age privilege on the ambitions
of young people (Auslander, 1993). Rather than being projected
directly on to the `mysterious mechanisms of the market' (ibid.: 284) or
the power of the post-colonial state, discontent is refracted back on to
symbols of traditional social structure that young people perceive as
prohibiting their own participation in the dramatic appropriation of
wealth and power by a privileged few. However, the events in Owerri
took a different form and suggest a somewhat different interpretation.
In Owerri it was the richest and most successful young elite who were
targeted in the riots. Though popular interpretations of public anger
focused on a specific brand of wealth allegedly accumulated through
satanic means, I suggest that what these young men did with their wealth
shaped popular interpretations of how this wealth was acquired.
Specifically, the beneficiaries of this `fast wealth' flouted customary
obligations of the `haves' to the `have-nots'. These young men displayed
their wealth in ways that exacerbated their differences from common
people rather than re-inscribing social ties (Smith, in press). The young
elite lived lifestyles to which many young Nigerians aspire. They
embodied widely shared ambitions. But they were accused of satanic
practices and specifically targeted by the mob because they failed to
fulfil the reciprocal obligations of patrons prescribed by a morality
rooted in kinship.
Pentecostalist stories of satanic wealth are just as much about issues
of power and inequality as more `traditional' witchcraft accusations.
Following Rowlands and Warnier (1988), Marshall (1991: 34) suggests
that:
an increase in the incidence of witchcraft accusations or fear of èvil powers'
tends to indicate an increase of social instability and insecurity, as well as the
inability of subordinated groups to express political dissent within the
framework of the state. The connection between material and political power
and the world of `satanic' agents is clear; `big men', be they chiefs,
businessmen, ministers, or politicians, have come by their power through
connections with evil spiritual forces, and use this power to oppress people,
especially born-again Christians.

While I largely agree with Marshall's characterisation of the symbolic

links between inequality and the occult (including notions of satanic
wealth), I think it is important to stress three points in the wake of the
Owerri riots. First, although these kinds of religiously framed
accusations seem to take place outside the framework of the state,
perhaps precisely because people do not have access to state power,
such forms of expression can become quite threatening to the state.
Much of what Nigeria's military government did in the wake of the
Owerri riots confirms that it feared the consequences of pentecostal
Christianity let loose.
Second, in this respect, it is important to consider to what extent the
imagined associations of wealth and political power and occult forces
are, as Meyer (1998a: 18) suggests, àppropriate political statements'
about the `(im)morality of power' rather than à failure to understand
modern, allegedly secular politics'. I think Meyer is right to emphasise
the degree to which religious interpretations that emphasise the occult
represent real knowledge about the nature and underpinnings of
inequality. However, I am not convinced, given the return to the
political and economic status quo that characterised the long-term
aftermath of the Owerri riots, that such forms of political statement are
ultimately effective political weapons.
Finally, I argue that the Nigerian public, including many `born again'
Christians, has an important stake in the system of patron±clientism
that characterises the Nigerian political economy. The public anger
unleashed at the nouveaux riches in the wake of the beheading of the
young boy represented discontent over a particular brand of inequal-
ityÐspecifically wealth and power achieved without fulfilling the social
obligations of patron±clientism. Thus, while the riots may have
symbolised a general discontent over inequalities of power and wealth
in Nigeria, the fact that they targeted only ìllegitimate wealth'
presumed that some forms of wealth could be accumulated (and
shared) legitimately.
THE OBLIGATIONS OF `BIG MEN'

Scholars of Africa have long recognised that kinship-based societies are
marked by inequality (Bledsoe, 1980, 1995). To understand the
structure of inequality in Nigeria, it is imperative to recognise that those
at the top are forever fulfilling obligations to their followers (Bayart,
1993; Chabal and Daloz, 1999; Nelson, 1996). In Africa, everyone is a
patron to lesser people and a client to more important people
(d'Azevedo, 1962; Bledsoe, 1980). Historians and anthropologists
have described the extent to which wealth in traditional African
societies was accumulated by developing networks of followers rather
than by amassing large material fortunes (Miers and Kopytoff, 1977;
Guyer, 1993, 1995). The ties of kinship and the obligations of patron±
clientism assured that those who achieved a disproportionate share of
wealth and power redistributed their riches to their followers to buy
loyalty and prestige. The recognition and acclaim of being a `big man'

came from being a big patron. Patron±clientism dominates contem-
porary Nigeria no less (and perhaps more) than it did `traditional'
African societies (Berry, 1985; Joseph, 1987; Bayart 1993). Access to
education, employment, urban migration, and government services
depends on having patronsÐespecially patrons with whom one has
kinship tiesÐconnected with the state and the wider economy (Berry,
1989; Smith, 1999).
Analyses of witchcraft accusations and scholarly interpretations of
stories of satanic wealth in Africa have often pointed to tensions
produced in kinship relations by the volatile mixture of emotional
intimacy and economic inequality (Geschiere, 1997; Meyer, 1995).
The sense among the poor that their wealthy patrons are not doing
enough and the sense among the rich that their followers are
demanding too much have long produced accusations of witchcraft in
both directions. These inequalities are being exacerbated by contem-
porary social changes associated with capitalist penetration, increasing
urban migration, and growing disparities in access to education and
income.
Many explanations of the salience of the occult in modern Africa
highlight the contradictory pressures of increasing individual ambition
and continuing obligations to kin and community, all in the context of
economic insecurity (Comaroff and Comaroff, 1993; Bastian, 1993;
Meyer, 1995). Accounts of the occult in Africa demonstrate that
witchcraft accusations are most often between kinÐthey constitute one
way in which societies deal with the resentment of inequality among
people tied together through emotion and moral obligation. If a person
killed or bewitched someone for selfish purposes, he/she usually killed
or bewitched a relative.
But the accusations that flourished around and after the Owerri riots
indicate a qualitative change in the nature of people's concerns about
power and inequality. I argue (Smith, in press) that the lack of
relatedness between the young millionaires and their alleged victims is
one of the most striking aspects of the stories of child kidnapping and
ritual murder that circulated in the wake of the Owerri riots. Indeed, the
impersonal, anonymous, and random nature of the evil acts these men
allegedly perpetrated was popularly perceived to be one of the most
troubling aspects of this `new' brand of satanic practice. The beheaded
child shown on Owerri television could have been anybody's child. He
had no kinship ties to his killer or to any of the young elite men
implicated in the public assignment of responsibility for the spree of
child kidnapping and ritual murder purportedly plaguing Owerri.
One of the most striking conversations I had in the aftermath of the
Owerri riots was with a 55-year-old Presbyterian minister who was the
dean of a local theological seminary. He said to me:
You know, Dan, we Africans have a long tradition of sacrificing human life to
seek power or wealth. But in the past one always had to kill a kinsman. You
couldn't just kill any stranger. This imposed limits and costs to taking a

human life. It is not so easy to kill your relation. But now these people kill
anybody to satisfy their greed. We are in trouble.
He did not mean to imply that he accepted ritual killing in any form; he
clearly saw all such acts as horrific as well as unchristian. But the
reverend father's dismay over the loosening of ritual killing from its
moorings in the ties of kinship points to changes in the nature of power
and inequality in contemporary Nigeria that are central to under-
standing the Owerri riots and the proliferation of stories about ritual
killing. In particular, the focus on a specific class of nouveaux riches,
known as `419' men (Smith, in press), as the symbolic evil actors
highlights popular discontent with inequalities and power relations that
are no longer securely rooted in kinship-based patron±clientism.
I contend that much of the public resentment of the new elite
stemmed from their poor performance as patrons. The wealthy and the
powerful appeared to be less and less bound by the obligations of
kinship and patron±clientism, leaving the masses of ordinary people
without leverage over their rulers. It is not a big leap to imagine that the
new elite implicated in the Owerri riots stand metaphorically for the
military men who have ruled Nigeria so ruthlessly for most of the years
since independence (Smith, in press). What Nigerians found most
troubling about the military was that they ignored the obligations of
patron±clientismÐnot that they failed to uphold a Western notion of
bureaucratic transparency. Nigerians deplored the military not so much
because they looted the state (any Nigerian will tell you that civilians are
just as bad, if not worse), but because they kept everything for
themselves. They were terrible patrons.
OWERRI AND `419' MEN

In Nigeria, persons who accumulate `fast wealth' are popularly known
as `419' men, after the number in the Nigerian penal code for the laws
relating to fraud. `419' men are typically thought to have garnered their
riches by conning foreigners and wealthy Nigerians in highly elaborate
scams (Apter, 1999; Hibou, 1999). Increasingly, in the 1990s, `419'
men were also suspected of participating in the highly lucrative
international drug trade (Bayart, 1999). The young elite targeted in
the Owerri riots were alleged to have achieved their wealth through
`419'. Though `419' as a means of accumulation is widely recognised as
ìllegal' and inimical to Nigeria's international reputation, accusing the
young elite of ritual murder implied much greater evil.
The practice of `419' has always held a precarious place in relation to
Nigeria's system of patron±clientism. On the one hand, `419' men are
admired for their ability to circumvent the system and get rich without
having to negotiate the obligations of kinship and patron±clientism.
The tremendous burdens and obligations to family and community are
such that people who can escape them are envied even as they are
despised. And `419' men have always been at least as despised as they
are enviedÐfor, while they manage to escape the shackles of patron±

clientism to obtain their wealth, more often than not they also fail to
fulfil many of the obligations that are expected of `men of means'.
From my first days in Nigeria in 1989 I had been told about `419'
men and their many schemes to get rich quick. I remember a friend in
Owerri telling me an elaborate story of `419' in which a rich and greedy
Nigerian investor was conned out of hundreds of thousands of naira.
The fraudsters set up a fancy office with computers, fax machines,
modern furniture, and pretty young secretaries. The businessman was
persuaded to invest his money over expensive dinners and fancy drinks.
Part of the scam was a series of international calls to London in which
the investor talked to the group's supposed British partners. The
businessman was convinced that he could reap a huge return on his
investment if he put up his money quickly. When the businessman
returned to the office a few days after investing his money, he found
nothing but an empty building, with a toothless old woman sweeping
the hallway. I honestly cannot remember whether the story ended with
the man fainting, dropping dead, or going madÐany of which would
have been a typical and appropriate ending for the genre.
Many such stories circulate in Nigeria and, whether they are true or
apocryphal, they reveal much about the ambivalent place of `419' in
Nigerian society. `419' men are sometimes portrayed as skilful
entrepreneurs who can out-con the wealthy. They are envied and
admired for their wealth. They are able to wield many of the symbols of
success that most people can only dream ofÐthe newest Mercedes cars,
cellular phones, fancy linen clothes, and the most beautiful young
women at their side.
But it was clear, even prior to the Owerri riots, that `419' men were also
engendering anger and resentment. When people narrated the appearance
of `419' men at weddings, funerals and other social events, awe-struck
descriptions of the huge amounts of money they `sprayed'3 were
mixed with criticisms of their outlandish sense of self-importance.
People said that these `419' men were `buying' traditional chieftaincy
titles, acquiring special vehicle licence number plates from the
government that told the police and military that they were ùntouch-
ables', and having the streets they lived on renamed after themselves.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
3
When Nigerians talk about `spraying' money they are referring to a widely practised
custom whereby individuals show support or admiration for others by placing banknotes on
the bodies (usually the foreheads) of recipients. Money is typically `sprayed' on bride and
groom as they dance following a marriage ceremony; on the children of a dead elder as they
parade with his/her picture following a burial; and on all kinds of performers (musicians,
comedians, public speakers, etc.) when their performance is appreciated. The act of `spraying'
has itself become a performance, and those who do the `spraying' are often pointing public
attention to themselves as much as to those they are `supporting.' Prior to attending wedding
and burial ceremonies, elite Nigerians make a point of stopping at the bank to acquire crisp
new banknotes because they produce the most dramatic effect. In the act of spraying, the
dance of `the sprayer' is watched and admired, but, most important, the quantity and
denomination of the bills pasted to the foreheads of `the sprayee' are closely monitored. People
who spray large sums of money are roundly applauded by the crowdÐthough, as the criticisms
of `419' men illustrate, such ostentation is resented even as it is admired.

Their wealth, and the privileges it bought, created jealousy and

resentment as well as admiration.
The `419' men embodied ambition for wealth and power gone out of
control. Popular stories about their excesses emphasised their lack of
respect for their fellow people. As one of Nigeria's daily newspapers
reported, `Such affluent people terrorized the inhabitants [of Owerri]
with their wealth' (Guardian, 4 October 1996). Among the more widely
circulated genre of stories were narratives about how `419' men
travelled. Several people told me that `419' men moved in convoys of
fancy vehicles with armed escorts and sirens blaringÐexactly how the
country's top military officials moved about. A newspaper account
about the `419' men and their wealth reproduced some of this imagery:
The result is that big designer and exotic cars were bought, huge magnificent
mansions and castles were built in villages for rodents and insects, because
their owners were always either in Lagos or overseas. A new class of
`nouveaux riches' emerged. They moved in convoys of about six cars on the
largely untarred roads. The first, usually a jeep, often a Nissan Pathfinder
followed by another jeep (this time either a Mitsubishi Pajero, Izuzu Rodeo
or the American Cherokee), then the man in the Lexus brand of car followed
by an American Limousine (carrying wife and children where he is married),
escorted by two V-Boot Benz cars. Husband and wife were usually light
skinned people, not gifted with too many words. Whenever they spoke
money was splashed. [This Day, 23 October 1996]
It is worth noting the references to the `419' men as àlways either in

Lagos or overseas' (i.e. neglecting their communities and kinfolk),
travelling on ùntarred roads' (i.e. wealth squandered on individuals
while public infrastructure suffered), and usually `light skinned people,
not gifted with too many words' (i.e. trying to be what they are not and
lacking the talent or intelligence to have earned their status
legitimately).
THE WEEK OWERRI ERUPTED

When Owerri exploded, I was about a year into my field research in a
semi-rural community about an hour's drive away. I knew Owerri, a
town of 285,000 people, and many of its residents quite well. Before
beginning my training in anthropology, I lived there for three years,
working on a public health programme. As a civil service town that had
become a state capital with the creation of Imo State in 1976, Owerri
was a quiet place compared with the bustling Igbo commercial cities of
Onitsha and Aba. When I lived there from 1989 to 1992, one heard
occasional stories of car-jackings and armed robbery, but by and large
Owerri residents were grateful that their town was not afflicted with the
same degree of violent crime that characterised places like Lagos, Benin
City, and Onitsha. When I returned to Nigeria in 1995, people in
Owerri spoke a lot more about violent crime. They also said Owerri had
become a haven for the nouveaux riches. Rumours and stories circulated
about a spate of child kidnappings and ritual murder.

I happened to be in Owerri the night (21 September 1996) the police
showed the man with the freshly severed child's head on local
television. From that day forward I spent considerable time in Owerri
over a period of several months, returning regularly to talk with people
about the riots and about the many rumours and commentaries they
generated. In the aftermath of the crisis, I also collected piles of
newspaper and magazine stories about the riots, about related stories of
ritual murder and satanic wealth in other parts of Nigeria, and about
pentecostal Christianity. Before the riots I had been curious about the
evident popularity of pentecostal Christianity, particularly among
young people. But only after the events in Owerri did I really begin
to pay attention to the relationship between pentecostalism and
`modernity' (Meyer, 1998b; Appadurai, 1996).4
The morning after the boy's head was shown on Owerri television I
went to a sports club where I often played tennis with some of Owerri's
elite men. Talk of the beheading and of the television broadcast
dominated conversation. People were shocked and outraged by the
broadcastÐboth by the fact that this man was caught with a child's
head, and that the police decided to show it on television. Imagine the
reaction of the child's parents if they saw the horrible image, my friends
worried. Much of the talk centred on the decline of Nigerian society,
and on the depths of evil to which people had become willing to
descend in order to gain wealth and power. But that Sunday morning,
in their casual analysis, none of my friends drew explicit connections
between the beheading and Owerri's `419' men.
Indeed, part of the morning's discussion was about the club's
preparations to host `Larry', one of Owerri's wealthiest and most widely
known nouveaux riches. A good party in his honour and perhaps he
would give the club a generous donation, my friends hoped. Two days
later that would all change. Larry was one of the `419' men targeted by
the Owerri mob. His businesses, his cars, and his fancy modern house
were all completely torched. Larry disappeared from Owerri, no doubt
in legitimate fear for his life. As a result of the riots, he went from a
highly sought-after guest to a suspected ritual murderer accused of
using child kidnapping and cannibalism to manufacture magically his
outrageous prosperity.
I returned to my village field site that Sunday evening and related the
shocking television broadcast to my wife and friends at home.
Wednesday night (25 September 1996) the local evening television
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
4
In a recent article Englund and Leach (2000) astutely point out the dangers of too easily
accepting what they call `the meta-narrative of modernity' in our interpretation of events in
post-colonial settings. While I believe their caution is well worth considering, I also believe
that the overuse and under-specification of the term `modernity' stem from the fact that it
stands for real and complex social processes that need to be accounted for and understood. In
this article I have tried to avoid simply lumping particular phenomena under the label of
`modernity' and have, rather, focused on describing and interpreting the events, conversa-
tions, and circulating stories in terms that seem to make sense in the context in which they
happened.

news (in nearby Abia State, where I was actually living) broadcast
scenes of devastation in Owerri. The riots had been under way for two
days, and were finally attracting regional press coverage. The television
report showed burned buildings and cars. The segment included a
video clip of a crowd carrying to the state military administrator's office
the burned human corpse that was allegedly found in Damaco's
residence. The video also showed a large pot of pepper soup found
cooking at the Overcomers Christian Mission church compound. The
television reporter said the pepper soup allegedly contained human
meat. The rioters were said to be targeting the property of people
suspected of masterminding a spree of child kidnapping and ritual
murder in the pursuit of `fast wealth'.
OVERCOMERS CHRISTIAN MISSION

Most of the buildings torched in the two days of rioting in Owerri were
reputedly owned by `419' menÐhigh-class supermarkets, upscale
hotels, fancy automobile dealerships, and ùltra-modern' personal
residences. Overcomers Christian Mission was one of several religious
houses targeted by the mob. Among the religious targets, it was, by far,
the subject of the most media attention and public discussion. Of the six
religious premises partially or totally destroyed in the riots, three
belonged to so-called `prosperity' pentecostal Churches and three
belonged to non-Christian groups. The non-Christian religious targets
included the premises of the Grail movement, the Eckankar movement
and an ashram of followers of the Guru Maharaji. The targeting of these
non-Christian groups suggests that the three `prosperity' churches were
attacked not simply because of the version of Christianity they
promoted, but because they were believed to have participated in
`non-Christian' satanic rituals. It is important to point out that dozens
of pentecostal churches in Owerri, including many `prosperity'
churches, were left untouched by the rioters. Indeed, while no
demographic profile of the rioters is available, except for the widespread
observation that they were mostly young and almost exclusively male, I
know from numerous anecdotal accounts that the rioters included `born
again' Christians. The targeting of a few pentecostal churches was not,
then, a major societal upheaval against pentecostal Christianity, but
rather the result of a specific set of suspicions and accusations against
particular pastors and their churches. Nonetheless, I will argue that
these specific cases illustrate the complex and sometimes contradictory
place of pentecostalism in contemporary Nigeria.
Overcomers Christian Mission and its founder and pastor, Rev.
Alexander Ezeugo Ekewuba, were targeted by the mob because of their
association with Damaco, the `419' man at whose home the mob
allegedly discovered a roasted human corpse that appeared to have been
used in some kind of cannibalistic ritual. Overcomers was widely known
as a `prosperity' church and its popularity had increased significantly
since Rev. Ekewuba began broadcasting a weekly evangelism pro-
gramme on Owerri's only local television station. Rev. Ekewuba

preached fervently against `traditional pagan' rituals such as the
funerary practices of the njoku cult, in which the skulls of dead
individuals who had inherited a particular or priestly status in
traditional Igbo religion were left unburied and elevated above ground
as part of the funeral process. On his tele-evangelist programme Rev.
Ekewuba showed some of the skulls he had collected from `born again'
converts who deposited the skulls with the pastor as evidence of their
conversion. When the Owerri mob moved to the Overcomers Mission
compound after allegedly discovering the roasted corpse at Damaco's
residence, collective anger was fuelled by a rumour that Damaco's
satanic practices were somehow connected with his association with
Overcomers Church. In the aftermath, Nigeria's most respected
newspaper reported that the Overcomers Mission and Rev. Ekewuba
ìncurred the wrath of the mob for allegedly being in the payroll of
Damaco. It was alleged that he donated a million naira to the church at
the naming ceremony of his child a fortnight ago' (Guardian, 29
September 1996).
The large pot of pepper soup found boiling on the church premises
when the mob arrived (a video picture of which was widely broadcast
on Nigerian television) was rumoured and widely reported to have
contained `human meat'. Stories of numerous human skulls purport-
edly found in the church and at the pastor's residence rekindled popular
images of the freshly severed head of the 11-year-old boy seen on
television a few nights earlier. Neither the age of the skulls found in the
church nor their origins mattered in those first popular reactions.
Official investigations later concluded that the meat in the pepper soup
was from a cow and that the skulls found at Overcomers Mission
church had indeed been turned over to Rev. Ekewuba by converts upon
becoming `born again' (Imo State Government, 1997). However, the
`fact' that Overcomers Church was eventually acquitted of involvement
in the kind of satanic rituals for which it was targeted by the rioters
should not conceal the importance of the public's readiness to believe
such accusations. Nor should it obscure the association of such
readiness with the position of `prosperity' churches vis-aÁ-vis inequality
and the supernatural explanations of its origins. The judicial commis-
sion of inquiry formed to investigate the riots concluded with regard to
its religious dimensions:
Although the disturbances in Owerri had no religious connotations or under-
tone contrary to the evidence of one of the witnesses, the situation created by
the Overcomers Church by its constant and sustained use of human parts
(skulls) whose sources were suspect, for illustration in its tendencious [sic]
religious television programmes was not only unorthodox, unreasonable and
inhumane but also despicable as it showed total lack of respect for human
dignity. It should be noted that the possession of a human part or skull
without justification is a criminal offence under our laws.
Apart from the situation created by the Overcomers Church, it must be
observed also that some Christian sects of recent origin laid emphasis on
material and mundane issues such as wealth, property, temporal knowledge
and the like, and so made unfulfilled promises in that direction to numerous

unsuspecting youths and adults. These unfulfilled promises antagonised

those for whom they were made and so when the opportunity offered itself
for mob action, these sects became easy targets for the disappointed youths
and even adults.
Again, rightly or wrongly, some of the religious organizations were
perceived as secret societies whose practices and methods were thought to be
inimical to society. [Imo State Government, 1997: 14±15]
Pentecostal Christianity is increasingly popular among young

Nigerians, in part because it provides a social and moral compass
with which to navigate Nigeria's political economy of scarcity and
inequality. Though patronage remains the means by which most
Nigerians succeed or fail, a faltering economy combined with
heightened ambitions and expectations mean that most people find it
very difficult to succeed. In addition, avenues to individual success are
constrained (as well as facilitated) by the continuing obligations to kin
and community of origin. `Prosperity' churches, like Overcomers
Christian Mission, provide hope for a better life, while at the same time
creating new social networks through which young people can negotiate
the difficulties of surviving in Nigeria. If pentecostalism is so popular
because of its alternative approach to living in modern Nigeria, its
proximity to the world of the occult that it rejects and its reproduction
of social structures of inequality it stands against, place it in a
potentially precarious position.
`THE ARROW OF GOD': THE OWERRI RIOTS AS RELIGIOUS CLEANSING

The Owerri riots were both a result of and a forum for the expression of
popular discontent over the proliferation of a brand of inequality
wherein those reaping the benefits of power failed to fulfil the
obligations of patron±clientism. The place of pentecostal Christianity
in contemporary Nigerian society became a kind of flashpoint in the
debates over how to understand `fast wealth', outlandish prosperity,
and growing inequality. Much of the sentiment of religious cleansing
that dominated popular interpretations of the riots drew its power from
the increasingly influential status of pentecostalism in southern Nigeria.
The idea that `collaborators with the devil' would ultimately pay for
their evil deeds in a kind of millennial uprising very much fulfilled the
prophecies of pentecostal Church leaders and appealed to the followers
of these denominations. Yet the fact that the crowd burned several
pentecostal churches, allegedly for their role in facilitating the prosper-
ity of the new elite, reveals popular ambivalence toward the rise of `born
again' Churches.
As I indicated above, many NigeriansÐindeed, it was my impression,
most NigeriansÐinterpreted the Owerri riots in terms of religious
cleansing. Certainly people in Owerri talked about it this way, and such
interpretations were widely disseminated in the media. Child kidnap-
ping, ritual murder, the achievement of `fast wealth' through fraudulent
means, and naked political corruption wherein those stealing from

government coffers did not even bother to redistribute a portion of their
wealth to networks of supporters were all branded in public conscious-
ness as èvil'. Indeed, the public's perception of a grand conspiracy of
child kidnapping, ritual murder and cannibalism designed to propitiate
the accumulation of wealth is best understood as a symbolic process of
understanding social inequality in supernatural and religious terms.
It is common knowledge in Nigeria that the police, the military, and
the country's politicians collaborate to loot the treasury. Evidence
presented at the government's judicial commission of inquiry created to
investigate the `remote and immediate causes' of the riots suggested
that some of the young `millionaires' operated fraudulent businesses
with official tolerance, if not outright collaboration. However, no strong
evidence uncovered in the aftermath of the riots suggested that any of
the new elite targeted by the mob, or any of their alleged government
collaborators and protectors, actually practised ritual murder. The only
obvious link between the `419' men and ritual murder was the
purported discovery of the `roasted' human corpse at Damaco's
compound (about which many contradictory versions of events
circulated). But popular imagination never let go of the belief that
these nouveaux riches and their official collaborators did engage in ritual
murder. The symbolism of child kidnapping for the purpose of ritual
murder was essential to the social construction of public outrage that
led to the riots. Religious symbolism provided the emotional power
behind the uprising.
Within a week or so of the riots, people began referring to the
beheaded 11-year-old boy as `The Arrow of God'. The moniker is a
reference to Chinua Achebe's novel of the same title that draws on an
Igbo proverb in which a particular person or event is said to enact or
trigger the will of God. In the public mourning over the young boy's
awful murder, naming him `The Arrow of God' served to make his
death meaningful. But, more important for the purposes of interpreta-
tion, this attribution symbolised and crystallised the popular conception
that the Owerri riots were a religious cleansing. Newspapers,
magazines, and other media picked up on the name, and soon a large
proportion of the Nigerian publicÐcertainly those in Owerri and the
surrounding Igbo-speaking areasÐknew who was meant and what
events were referred to when people spoke of `The Arrow of God'.5
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
5
As with many of the shared popular ideas and interpretations that emerged in the wake of
the Owerri riots, and which were widely reproduced in the media, it is hard to know just how
much the media were reflecting public perceptions and how much they were shaping them. I
intentionally followed the media as closely as I could in the weeks and months after the riots,
collecting every newspaper and magazine article I could find, listening to radio reports, and
watching television segments about the story. I also interviewed many people and listened to
countless natural conversations in and around Owerri about the whole episode. I heard the
Àrrow of God' attribution in popular conversation before I read it in the newspaper. My sense
was that the press picked up the name locally (rather than simply inventing it) and then gave it
much wider currency by spreading it farther and faster than would be possible by word of
mouth.

In the days and weeks following the unrest, most people I spoke with
supported the riots. Almost everyone said that they were `God's work'.
Kalu Chijioke, a 48-year-old member of Assemblies of God, one of the
more popular `born again' Churches in south-eastern Nigeria, inter-
preted the riots this way:
God has exposed those who have been collaborating with the devil. I believe
it will not be long before this kind of thing happens in Umuahia and Aba
[other cities in south-eastern Nigeria] and throughout the country. This is
the beginning of a new Nigeria, God willing.
Like Kalu Chijioke, the public widely supported the riots. People
believed the accusations of ritual murder against those targeted by the
mob, and saw God as responsible for revealing and punishing the
culprits. Indeed, local interpretations of several aspects of the riots
reinforced people's conviction that they were divinely guided.
First, the fact that the mob targeted only the properties of the new
elite and their collaborators, and did not destroy property indiscrimi-
nately, even though the riots were `spontaneous' and `not orchestrated',
proved to many locals that they must have been guided by God. How
could the crowd have known the right places to go without divine
guidance?6 In the days following the riots, many people marvelled at the
ability of the crowd to distinguish the evildoers. James Chukwuemeka, a
29-year-old civil servant, echoed widely shared sentiments when he told
me:
The rioters were divinely guided. They targeted only those who were guilty
of crimes against the society. Innocent people had nothing to fear. Even the
military did intervene because this was the work of God.
Second, numerous stories circulated that the rioting included no

looting. The property of the evildoers was burned but not stolen, and
those not implicated in the ring of ritual murderers were left untouched.
Indeed, many people told me that the mob would allow businessmen
who rented space in the young millionaires' commercial buildings to
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
6
It was true that most of the swanky stores, fancy hotels, and residences torched by the mob
were owned by the alleged `419' men. However, it came out at the hearings of the judicial
commission of inquiry that a number of apparently ìnnocent' people had had their properties
burned. Those people came to testify at the inquiry and over time it was generally
acknowledged that the mob had made a few `mistakes'. But, by and large, the public and the
judicial commission of inquiry concluded that most of the people whose properties were
targeted were indeed `men of questionable means'. The conclusion was supported by the fact
that since they escaped from Owerri during the riots the men could not be found, and they did
not come to the judicial commission of inquiry to protest their losses. How the mob knew the
identity of the `419' men is an interesting issue. Though divine guidance was the popular
explanation, I suggest that their identities, the corrupt means by which they achieved their
great wealth, and the identities of the government officials believed to be supporting and
consorting with them, were widely known by local peopleÐthese were `public secrets'
(Taussig, 1997).

clear out their goods before burning the structures.7 Third, the fact that
no one was killed in the riots was seen as evidence of their divine
inspiration. The conclusion of the judicial commission of inquiry largely
supported this public perception.
It was the view of the Commission in its report that no person, persons or
group is/are identifiable as being responsible for organizing the disturbances
or as being perpetrators of the acts of destruction. One of the witnesses
before the Commission had stated that `no human being in Owerri or Imo
State or anywhere else big or small instigated, motivated or organized the
mayhem.' No mortal creature could have organized or teleguided such
unprecedented mob into such colossal moving force. Only God could and
He did serve His Purpose'. . . .
The unidentified large and unwieldy mob appeared to have set out to
cleanse the capital city of Owerri of people rightly or wrongly conceived as
the sources of the people's unfortunate plight. . . .
Therefore, no compensation shall be paid for the disturbances.8 [Imo
State Government, 1997: 37]
In the minds of most Nigerians, the new elite and their collaborators
deserved what they got in the riots, and many people hoped that they
would eventually be arrested and tried for their crimes. Short of that,
almost everyone believed that God would judge the perpetrators, and
the riots reinforced millennial interpretations of the future of Nigeria. In
Umuahia, a town about an hour's drive from Owerri, local people spoke
expectantly, if a little fearfully, about whether the cleansing would
spread there. Rumour had it that many of the nouveaux riches had run
away to Umuahia. While Umuahia did not have the same reputation for
catering to the new elite as Owerri, people hoped that the events in
Owerri would rein in men who used evil means to become wealthy at
the expense of common people. The riots did not ultimately spread
beyond Owerri, but rumours and stories of beheadings, kidnappings
and ritual murder spread across Nigeria like a plague (Smith, in press).
SNAKES SWALLOWING SNAKES

A number of symbols captivated the public imagination in the
aftermath of the riots and contributed to the religious interpretation
of events. Most notable were widely reported incidents of snakes seen
swallowing other snakes. In three well publicised incidents in Owerri,
ÐÐÐÐÐÐ
7
While the minimal extent of looting in a situation of seeming chaos is remarkable, given
what usually happens when urban populations riot in Nigeria, it is clear that the public
imagination underplayed the looting and overplayed the moral integrity of the mob to suit
dominant popular interpretations.
8
In addition to putting the government on the side of the people by supporting the
conclusion that the riots were an act of God, it is worth noting that this conclusion also
justified the government's decision not to pay any compensation to innocent victims of the
riots. The exception was the beheaded boy's mother, to whom the commission recommended
the government give N200,000 (about US$2,350) to help her support her other children.

large crowds of people were reported to have observed one snake

swallowing another. The first story I saw in the papers reported:
For the third time in three weeks, residents of Owerri, the Imo State capital,
looked on in horror as a giant snake swallowed another, to add to the anxiety
that has disrupted the serenity of the city in recent times. . . .
The horror this time occurred at Umuguma village, near control post,
where a giant, black, ugly python measuring about eight feet, swallowed
another of similar size alive, with the tail of the latter dangling from the
mouth of the first. . . .
The military administrator, the police commissioner and other top officials
came to behold the horrifying sight. [Sunday Champion, 5 October 1996]
A snake swallowing another snake is a bad omen in Igbo folklore, an

indication of the gods' impending wrath. The two other incidents of
snakes swallowing snakes were reported to have occurred prior to the
riots. The first reportedly took place at the residence of a local
traditional ruler whose palace was burned in the riots for his alleged
legitimising of the new elite by conferring chieftaincy titles on them.
The second occurred at the Ministry of Works, where rumours of a
huge scandal over the sale of public property for personal gain achieved
great popular notoriety. These accounts suggest a retrospective
reconstruction of symbolic omens in a way that supports the
interpretations of the Owerri riots in religious terms. They tell people
that there were signs of what was coming. The fact that this final
sighting occurred two weeks after the riots seemed to say that evil was
still afoot and the cleansing was not complete.
The image of a snake swallowing another snake resonated in public
consciousness in other ways as well. The fact that in the Bible the
serpent is a symbol of temptation and evil was not lost on this highly
Christian population. And of course the act of a snake eating one of its
own species also stood for the cannibalism attributed to the
perpetrators of ritual murder. Yet the power of good to win out over
evil is embodied even in this troubling traditional image. The Igbo have
a proverb, Agwo loro ibe ya, odu ya n'ato ya a'onu, that when a snake
swallows another snake the tail of the snake being swallowed always
sticks out of the mouth of the snake doing the swallowing. This is
widely interpreted to mean that, no matter how dastardly and well
planned an act of evil, some aspect of it will be revealed and the evildoer
will be discovered.
`BRETHREN AT WAR': HOLIER THAN THOU

The drama over pentecostalism's role in producing inequality in
contemporary Nigeria was played out in testimony before the judicial
commission of inquiry and in the media, where pentecostal Church
leaders and leaders of the Catholic and main-line Protestant Churches
worked to manipulate interpretations of the Owerri riots in their favour.
While pentecostal and main-line Church leaders clearly represented the
interests of their respective institutions, the two points of view also

corresponded to competing (and sometimes simultaneously held)
popular perspectives. In his testimony before the judicial commission
of inquiry, the Methodist Bishop of Owerri criticised the pentecostal
movement and opined that `some churches are merely toxic waste of
America while others practise pentecostal witchcraft' (The Week, 9
December 1996). Leaders of the older established Churches criticised
the doctrine of prosperity that they saw as characterising pentecostalism
and indicted the leaders of the new Churches for enriching themselves
at the expense of their followers. A Catholic priest echoed these
sentiments in a newspaper interview, saying that most of the new
churches were `business centres and their leaders only used the name of
God to achieve their materialistic ends' (Sunday Times, 15 December
1996).
This critique of pentecostal Church leaders resonated with many
Nigerians. Over the two years of my fieldwork in south-eastern Nigeria I
often heard people complain that religion had become a business.
People joked that, with Nigeria's failing economy, unemployed
secondary school graduates were flocking to the newest and most
lucrative form of entrepreneurshipÐstarting one's own `born again'
Church. The fact that some of the most popular leaders of the largest
pentecostal Churches had become fabulously rich was widely known.
The media reported that several of these pastors had their own private
jets. These religious entrepreneurs touted their tremendous wealth as
evidence of the prosperity that comes with being `born again', but much
of the public was clearly troubled by this meteoric rise to riches. The
burning of some pentecostal churches in the Owerri riots symbolised
this strain of discontent over the prosperity of pentecostal Church
entrepreneurs.
Pentecostal Church leaders challenged this view, portraying main-
line Church leaders as being worried and jealous over the new
Churches' success in attracting converts. Pentecostalists worked to
manipulate public interpretations of the Owerri riots to their advantage.
In its memorandum submitted to the judicial commission of inquiry the
Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria (PFN) attributed the Owerri riots to
`the gradual slide of the people and successive administrations in Imo
State into paganism' (Guardian, Friday 18 October 1996). This
paganism `thrives on blood given by its worshippers for devilish
political power and inexplicable wealth it grants its followers' (ibid.).
The pentecostalists offered an interpretation of the Owerri riots that
reflected (and shaped) popular consensus about its causes.
The PFN memorandum supported most of the actions of the Owerri
mob as `righteous'. As to the targeting of some pentecostal churches,
pentecostal leaders explained it as a calculated attempt by Catholic
Church leaders to take advantage of the anti-nouveau riche climate of
the Owerri riots to èxterminate the Pentecostal Movement from Imo
State' (ibid.). The memorandum went on to claim that, since the
founding of Imo State in 1976, Catholics had dominated the state
government and purposely excluded pentecostalists. The problems in
Imo State, the memorandum argued, were precisely the result of the

lack of dedication to God. Interestingly, despite its critical stance

toward entrenched power, PFN used the Owerri riots to press for its
inclusion into the state political apparatus, calling for government
appointments to be rotated among different denominations.
THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PENTECOSTALISM

Religious interpretations dominated local accounts of the Owerri riots,
yet the increasingly popular `born again' Churches were implicated in
the very critical discourses they helped produce. The ambivalent place
of pentecostal Christianity in contemporary Nigeria is best explained by
examining its complex relationship with Nigeria's political economy.
Pentecostalism offers a critique of inequality that entrenched powers
find threatening, and that ambitious, but mostly poor and powerless,
young people find appealing. By renegotiating the obligations of kinship
and attacking practices of patron±clientism, pentecostalism frees
believers to pursue their individual ambitionsÐalbeit in the name of
God. But the movement has also produced its own inequalities and
embodies the very materialism that motivates so much discontent. As
Marshall (1998a) has pointed out, membership of pentecostal
Churches in Nigeria increasingly includes individuals who are relatively
prosperous and connected with the global economy. Hierarchies of
inequality are emerging within pentecostal congregations, as the
promised prosperity does not reach all equally. The contradiction
between its critique of inequalities of power and wealth and the promise
of prosperity offered to its followers is central to understanding the
appeal and importance of pentecostalism in southern Nigeria, as well as
the animosity it generates.
As Meyer emphasises in her work on pentecostalism in Ghana,
pentecostalists do not tell stories of satanic riches `from a feeling of
nostalgic conservatism. The problem is not money but a lack of it'
(1995: 249). The masses of young people who become `born again'
aspire to wealth and success. What the entrenched elite find so
troubling about the pentecostal critique and the ambitions of its
followers is that pentecostalism threatens to overturn forms of patron±
clientism based on kinship ties, place of origin, age seniority, and
ethnicity. As Marshall suggests, a Nigerian political economy domi-
nated by pentecostalism would replace patronage networks based on
kinship and place of origin with patronage networks based on born-
again identity (1991: 28; 1998b).
The burning of the Overcomers Christian Mission church by the
Owerri mob because its pastor was reputed to have helped some of the
new elite magically attain their fabulous wealth was seized upon by the
government as an opportunity to regulate these `mushrooming'
Churches. As mentioned above, the judicial commission of inquiry
into the Owerri disturbances concluded, after lab tests, that the `human
meat pepper soup' found on the Overcomers church premises was
actually cow meat. It also supported the pastor's claim that the human
skulls found in the church compound had been turned over to the

pastor by converts when they gave up traditional animist practices. The
pastor used them in his television evangelism to harangue against the
occult. But the commission nonetheless recommended that the `new
breed' of Churches should be better regulated, and in the months after
the riots the Nigerian media were rife with stories about government
concern over the rise of `junk churches'.
The military government was able to play on real public concerns
about the role of pentecostal Churches in producing inequality to move
to address its own fears of these Churches that were heightened by the
Owerri riots. To the military these Churches represented a political
threat because of their potential to mobilise an angry, impoverished,
and disempowered population. To the public, particular pentecostal
churches were suspect because they were producing inequalities that
were potentially even more disturbing than those associated with
entrenched structures of power.
CONCLUSION
In Nigeria inequality is nothing new. But in the 1990s increasing levels
of formal education, rising rates of urban migration, and growing
exposure to global media heightened individual ambitions and
expectations at the very time when Nigeria's troubled political economy
weakened the ability of networks of kinship and community to deliver
assistance. These strains, combined with a growing sense of despair
over Nigeria's future and the yearning for some kind of moral compass
to navigate this turbulent world, have helped make pentecostalism so
popular. Tensions in kinship and community ties and a breakdown in
the fulfilment of patrons' obligations to their clients, manifested so
strongly in military rule, have created new sets of inequalities that may
be even more troubling than the burdens of reciprocal (and
hierarchical) kinship obligations.
Part of the lure of pentecostalism has been its promise of prosperity.
But increasing prosperity in a situation of bald inequalities where the
rich are less bound by the obligations of kinship and patron±clientism
has generated deep resentments. Pentecostal Churches have produced
their own dramatic inequalities. In the Owerri case, the Overcomers
Christian Mission was implicated in supernatural explanations of the
success of `419' men. `419' men embody the essence of illegitimate
wealthÐachieved through evil means and not shared according to
accepted norms. This is part of the explanation for why a church that
preached so vociferously against `witchcraft' became embroiled in riots
targeting magical wealth.
The rise of pentecostalism in southern Nigeria is part of a process
whereby a political economy structured around kin- and community-
based patronage is being transformed into a political economy in which
other forms of association are privileged in new patron±client
hierarchies (Marshall, 1998; Marshall-Fratani, 1998; Maxwell, 2000).
But `419' men did not represent new forms of patron±clientism. They
stood for social transformations in which wealth and power were no

longer modulated by the obligations of patronage. The burning of

pentecostal churches in the Owerri riots symbolised public ambivalence
about reconfigurations of power. The anger at the `419' men stemmed
from the way in which they amassed and displayed unspeakable wealth
without fulfilling the reciprocal obligations of `big men'. The rioters'
message was that a system of inequality in which the `haves' are
obligated to the `have-nots' is preferable to one where they are not.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I gratefully acknowledge the support of the Fulbright Program, the Population Council,
the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research, and the National Science
Foundation for my research in Nigeria. I thank Sangeetha Madhavan for her helpful
comments on an earlier version of this article, and two anonymous referees for their
insightful and helpful suggestions. Finally, I want to acknowledge the constructive and
critical comments of Ruth Marshall, who allowed her review to be disclosed without
anonymity, in part, I think, because she objected so strongly to some of the positions I
took in an earlier version. To the extent that the final version is improved, I owe a great
deal to Dr Marshall's critique. Given her critical review of the original manuscript, it is
more important than customary to emphasise that any shortcomings in the final product
are solely my responsibility.
REFERENCES
Appadurai, A. 1996. Modernity at Large: cultural dimensions of globalization.
Minneapolis MN: University of Minnesota Press.
Apter, A. 1999. ÌBB = 419: Nigerian democracy and the politics of illusion',
in J. Comaroff and J. Comaroff (eds), Civil Society and the Political
Imagination in Africa: critical perspectives, pp. 267±307. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press.
Ardener, E. 1970. `Witchcraft, economics and the continuity of belief', in M.
Douglas (ed.), Witchcraft Confessions and Accusations, pp. 141±60. London:
Travistock.
Auslander, M. 1993. ` `Òpen the wombs!'': the symbolic politics of modern
Ngoni witchfinding', in J. Comaroff and J. Comaroff (eds), Modernity and
its Malcontents: ritual and power in postcolonial Africa, pp. 167±92. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Barber, K. 1982. `Popular reactions to the petro-naira', Journal of Modern
African Studies 20 (3), 431±50.
Bastian, M. 1993. ` ``Bloodhounds who have no friends'': witchcraft and
locality in the Nigerian popular press', in J. Comaroff and J. Comaroff
(eds), Modernity and its Malcontents: ritual and power in postcolonial Africa,
pp. 129±66. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Bayart, J. F. 1993. The State in Africa: the politics of the belly. London: Longman.
ÐÐ1999. `The ``social capital'' of the felonious state, or The ruses of political
intelligence', in J. F. Bayart, S. Ellis and B. Hibou (eds), The Criminalization
of the State in Africa, pp. 32±48. Oxford: James Currey, for the International
African Institute.
Berry, S. 1985. Fathers Work for their Sons: accumulation, mobility and class
formation in an extended Yoruba community. Berkeley CA: University of
California Press.
ÐÐ1989. `Social institutions and access to resources', Africa 59 (1), 41±55.

Bledsoe, C. 1980. Women and Marriage in Kpelle Society. Stanford CA:
Stanford University Press.
ÐÐ1995. `Marginal members: children of previous unions in Mende
households in Sierra Leone', in S. Greenhalgh (ed.), Situating Fertility:
anthropology and demographic inquiry, pp. 130±53. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Chabal, P., and Daloz, J. P. 1999. Africa Works: disorder as political instrument.
Oxford: James Currey, for the International African Institute.
Comaroff, J., and Comaroff J. 1993. Ìntroduction', in J. Comaroff and J.
Comaroff (eds), Modernity and its Malcontents: ritual and power in postcolonial
Africa, pp. xi±xxxvi. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
ÐÐ1999. Òccult economies and the violence of abstraction: notes from the
South African postcolony', American Ethnologist 26 (2), 279±303.
d'Azevedo, W. 1962. `Common principles and variant kinship structures
among the Gola of western Liberia', American Anthropologist 64 (3), 504±
20.
Englund, H. 1996. `Witchcraft, modernity and the person: the morality of
accumulation in central Malawi', Critique of Anthropology 16 (3), 257±81.
Englund, H., and Leach, J. 2000. Èthnography and the meta-narratives of
modernity', Current Anthropology 41 (2), 225±48.
Fisiy, C., and Geschiere, P. 1991. `Sorcery, witchcraft and accumulation:
regional variations in south and west Cameroon', Critique of Anthropology 11
(3), 251±78.
Geschiere, P. 1997. The Modernity of Witchcraft: politics and the occult in
postcolonial Africa. Charlottesville VA: University of Virginia Press.
Geschiere, P., and Gugler, J. 1998. Ìntroduction: the rural±urban connection:
changing issues of belonging and identification', Africa 68 (3), 309±19.
Geschiere, P., and Nyamnjoh, F. 1998. `Witchcraft in the ` ``politics of
belonging'' ', African Studies Review 41 (3), 69±91.
Guyer, J. 1993. `Wealth in people and self-realization in equatorial Africa',
Man 28, 243±65.
ÐÐ1995. `Wealth in people as wealth in knowledge: accumulation and
composition in equatorial Africa', Journal of Africa History 36, 91±120.
Hibou, B. 1999. `The ``social capital'' of the state as an agent of deception, or,
The ruses of economic intelligence', in J. F. Bayart, S. Ellis and B. Hibou
(eds), The Criminalization of the State in Africa, pp. 69±113. Oxford: James
Currey, for the International African Institute.
Imo State Government. 1997. Government White Paper on the Report of the
Judicial Commission of Inquiry into the Disturbances of 24±25 September 1996 in
Owerri. Owerri: Office of the Secretary to the State Government.
Joseph, R. 1987. Democracy and Prebendal Politics in Nigeria. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Marshall, R. 1991. `Power in the name of Jesus', Review of African Political
Economy 52, 21±38.
ÐÐ1993. ` ``Power in the name of Jesus'': social transformation and
pentecostalism in western Nigeria ``revisited'' ', in T. O. Ranger and O.
Vaughan (eds), Legitimacy and the State in Twentieth Century Africa, pp.
213±46. London: Macmillan.
ÐÐ1998. ` ``God is not a democrat'': pentecostalism and democratisation in
Nigeria', in P. Gifford (ed.), The Christian Churches and the Democratisation
of Africa, pp. 239±60. New York: Brill.
Marshall-Fratani, R. 1998. `Mediating the global and the local in Nigerian
pentecostalism', Journal of Religion in Africa 38 (3), 278±313.

Maxwell, D. 2000. `Pentecostalism and politics in post-colonial Zimbabwe',

Africa 70 (2), 249±77.
Meyer, B. 1995. ` ``Delivered from the powers of darkness'': confessions of
satanic riches in Christian Ghana', Africa 65 (2), 236±55.
ÐÐ1998a. `The power of money: politics, occult forces, and pentecostalism in
Ghana', African Studies Review 41 (3), 15±37.
ÐÐ1998b. ` ``Make a complete break with the past'': memory and post-
colonial modernity in Ghanaian pentecostalist discourse', Journal of Religion
in Africa 28 (3), 316±49.
Miers, S., and Kopytoff, I. (eds). 1977. Slavery in Africa: historical and
anthropological perspectives. Madison WI: University of Wisconsin Press.
Nelson, C. 1996. `PAT 101: principles of patronage', Issues: a Journal of
Opinion 24 (1), 45±51.
Rowlands, M., and Warnier, J. P. 1988. `Sorcery, power and the modern state
in Cameroon', Man (n.s.) 23, 118±32.
Shaw, R. 1997. `The production of witchcraft/witchcraft as production:
memory, modernity, and the slave trade in Sierra Leone', American
Ethnologist 24 (4), 856±76.
Smith, D. 1999. `Having People: fertility, family, and modernity in Igbo-
speaking Nigeria'. Ph.D. dissertation, Atlanta GA: Department of Anthro-
pology, Emory University.
ÐÐIn press. `Ritual killing, ``419,'' and fast wealth: inequality and the popular
imagination in southeastern Nigeria', American Ethnologist 28 (4).
Taussig, M. 1997. The Magic of the State. New York and London: Routledge.
Watts, M. 1992. `The shock of modernity: petroleum, protest and fast
capitalism in an industrializing society', in A. Pred and M. Watts (eds),
Reworking Modernity: capitalisms and symbolic discontent, pp. 21±63. New
Brunswick NJ: Rutgers University Press.
White, L. 1993. `Vampire priests of central Africa: African debates about labor
and religion in colonial northern Zambia', Comparative Studies in Society and
History 35 (4), 746±72.
ÐÐ1997. `The traffic in heads: bodies, borders, and the articulation of
regional histories', Journal of Southern African Studies 23 (2), 325±38.
ABSTRACT
In September 1996 the city of Owerri in south-eastern Nigeria erupted in riots
over popular suspicion that the town's nouveaux riches were responsible for a
spate of ritual murders allegedly committed in the pursuit of `fast wealth'. In
addition to destroying the properties of the purported perpetrators, the rioters
burned several pentecostal churches. This article examines the place of religion
in the Owerri crisis, particularly the central position of pentecostal Christianity
in popular interpretations of the riots. While pentecostalism itself fuelled local
interpretations that `fast wealth' and inequality were the product of satanic
rituals, popular rumours simultaneously accused some pentecostal churches of
participating in the very occult practices that created instant prosperity and
tremendous inequality. The analysis explores the complex and contradictory
place of pentecostalism in the Owerri crisis, looking at the problematic
relationship of pentecostalism to structures of inequality rooted in patron±
clientism and focusing on the ways in which disparities in wealth and power in
Nigeria are interpreted and negotiated through idioms of the supernatural.

REÂSUMEÂ
En septembre 1996, des eÂmeutes ont eÂclateÂ dans la ville d'Owerri, dans le Sud-
Est du Nigeria, une partie de la population soupcËonnant les nouveaux riches de
la ville d'eÃtre responsables d'une seÂrie de meurtres rituels preÂtendument
perpeÂtreÂs dans le but d'acqueÂrir une « richesse rapide ». Les eÂmeutiers ont non
seulement deÂtruit les biens des preÂtendus coupables, mais aussi bruÃleÂ plusieurs
eÂglises pentecoÃtistes. Cet article examine la place de la religion dans la crise
d'Owerri et particulieÁrement la position centrale de la chreÂtienteÂ pentecoÃtiste
dans les interpreÂtations reÂpandues concernant les eÂmeutes. Alors que le
pentecoÃtisme alimentait lui-meÃme des interpreÂtations locales selon lesquelles la
« richesse rapide » et l'ineÂgaliteÂ eÂtaient le produit de rituels sataniques, les
rumeurs reÂpandues au sein de la population accusaient simultaneÂment
certaines eÂglises pentecoÃtistes de participer aux pratiques occultes creÂatrices
de prospeÂriteÂ instantaneÂe et de grande ineÂgaliteÂ. L'analyse examine la place
complexe et contradictoire du pentecoÃtisme dans la crise d'Owerri, en
observant le rapport probleÂmatique du pentecoÃtisme aux structures de
relations patron-client ancreÂes dans l'ineÂgaliteÂ et en se concentrant sur la
manieÁre dont les dispariteÂs de richesse et de pouvoir au Nigeria sont
interpreÂteÂes et reÂsolues aÁ travers des idiomes du surnaturel.

Smith 2001

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Smith 2001

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Smith 2001

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Africa

Additional services for Africa:

Email alerts: Click here

‘The Arrow of God’: Pentecostalism, Inequality, and the Supernatural in

Daniel Jordan Smith

Africa / Volume 71 / Issue 04 / November 2001, pp 587 - 613

Link to this article: http://journals.cambridge.org/abstract_S0001972000090422

How to cite this article:

Request Permissions : Click here

Downloaded from http://journals.cambridge.org/AFR, IP address: 128.233.210.97 on 19 Mar 2015

`THE ARROW OF GOD'

In September 1996 the city of Owerri in south-eastern Nigeria erupted

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

and the attainment of illegitimate `fast wealth'.1 The men whose

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

PENTECOSTALISM, PROSPERITY AND INEQUALITY

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

of patronage based on ties of ethnicity, place of origin, and kinship. On

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

Most young `born again' Christians in Owerri struggle economically,

SUPERNATURAL INTERPRETATIONS OF INEQUALITY

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

witchcraft and the occult (Geschiere, 1997; Rowlands and Warnier,

Anthropologists have long interpreted witchcraft as being about

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

While I largely agree with Marshall's characterisation of the symbolic

THE OBLIGATIONS OF `BIG MEN'

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

OWERRI AND `419' MEN

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

Their wealth, and the privileges it bought, created jealousy and

It is worth noting the references to the `419' men as `always either in

THE WEEK OWERRI ERUPTED

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

OVERCOMERS CHRISTIAN MISSION

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

unsuspecting youths and adults. These unfulfilled promises antagonised

Pentecostal Christianity is increasingly popular among young

`THE ARROW OF GOD': THE OWERRI RIOTS AS RELIGIOUS CLEANSING

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

Second, numerous stories circulated that the rioting included no

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

SNAKES SWALLOWING SNAKES

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

large crowds of people were reported to have observed one snake

A snake swallowing another snake is a bad omen in Igbo folklore, an

`BRETHREN AT WAR': HOLIER THAN THOU

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

lack of dedication to God. Interestingly, despite its critical stance

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PENTECOSTALISM

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97

http://journals.cambridge.org Downloaded: 19 Mar 2015 IP address: 128.233.210.97