In pre-departure training we were told that in Ghana, what is provable is often less important than what is believed. I did not realize how true this was until the superstition started to seep through the walls of my compound. I'm told that a woman who was a witch recently replaced a man's heart with a pig's heart. The pig died, but the man lived. She was sent to the Gambaga witch camp, described to me as a prison for witches, where she "cant kill anybody anymore".
I'm told the King of Mamprugu can hear everything that goes on around the community--if you ask him what you said on a certain day, he will know.
I'm told there is an ancient wall around Nalerigu made of bodies, stones, milk and honey. It was built during times of strife to protect Nalerigu--and it is so strong, it would cause helicopters to fall from the sky if they tried to bomb the town.
The most ardent of Christians and Muslims around me, the housewives and day-labourers, and the government workers and university graduates all assure me that juju is real, and they have seen it. At market, a number of women have asked me for my necklace because of its power to protect me; they have asked me where they too could get such a magic tattoo. The girls in my house worry about my impending visit to the witch camp; even though they have faith in the safety of the camp, they don't want me to return cursed, or worse.
It makes me wonder about some of the many things that I see every day in this place that I dont understand yet. What sort of purpose does the shopkeeping woman's arrowhead forehead tattoos serve? What does the monkey skull I saw on sale at market beside the goat tails and python teeth do to protect, or to harm?
Where does the tradition end, and the magic begin?
I've missed the fire festival by a few months, and leave before the yam festival; the most I can hope to witness is a lesser-known ceremony, a wedding, or a funeral. When I complete my witch camp visit, I'll be sure to post a full report.
I'm excited to see the magic in action.
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