Heal the sick, not expose them

Nearly all people accused of being witches or wizards are elderly and, in many cases, physically frail or visibly different. If witches and wizards exist, does it mean they are only found among the elderly?

And the woman accused by a pastor in the north, Tuyenikelao Kamhulu, from Okongo, is 73.

Now, does it mean the young are exempt, or simply less likely to be accused? Or are we to accept that bewitching people only begins — or is only detected — when one grows old?

Kamhulu travelled nearly 200km seeking healing for a painful leg. Instead of receiving prayers, she alleges she was labelled a witch in front of congregants and a recording camera.

She said the pastor refused to touch her, insisting he did not want anything to do with witches.

“I am a sick woman, not a monster,” she said.

Scripture instructs spiritual leaders to “heal the sick” (Matthew 10:8), not expose them, and cautions against judging on appearances, urging instead that people “judge correctly” (John 7:24).

Even where wrongdoing is suspected, the approach is meant to be measured and private — “just between the two of you” (Matthew 18:15) — not performed before a congregation or a camera.

The treatment of the vulnerable is also clearly defined: “a bruised reed he will not break” (Isaiah 42:3), a reminder that the weak and afflicted should be protected, not publicly burdened.

For those who claim spiritual authority, the warning is even sharper: “we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1).

The issue is not belief, but whether that belief is exercised responsibly or turned into unchecked authority.

A catalogue

The Legal Assistance Centre (LAC) documentation shows that witchcraft accusations are a recurring pattern often ending in violence, exclusion or long-term harm.

The Centre cites a case in Windhoek where a young woman was murdered by a man who believed she had bewitched him.

The court treated the matter as murder, making it clear that such beliefs cannot justify violence.

In the Kunene Region, the LAC says a woman was confined and shackled by her own family for years after being accused of witchcraft, when, in fact, she had dementia. This illness is often misinterpreted as supernatural activity.

Another High Court matter involved the killing of a 62-year-old woman, where the accused claimed he acted because she was bewitching him and his family.

The court acknowledged the belief but rejected it as a defence, stressing that such actions must be deterred.

In one divorce case cited by the LAC, a husband repeatedly accused his wife of practising witchcraft and trying to cause his death, using the claim as a form of intimidation.

In another case, a man exploited such beliefs by convincing women and girls that they were bewitched and then subjecting them to so-called “treatment” that amounted to rape, demonstrating how accusations can be used to exercise control under the guise of spiritual authority.

Scapegoating

Sociologists such as Erving Goffman and Mary Douglas argue that physical traits such as old age, frailty or unusual appearance become socially stigmatised and interpreted as dangerous.

In this context, individuals who look different are more likely to be labelled as witches, not because of evidence, but because society associates visible difference with threat.

Sociology describes it as scapegoating, where communities project fear and tension onto those who are already marginal, including the elderly, widows, the poor and the physically different.

These individuals are often less able to defend themselves and easier to isolate, making them more vulnerable to accusation.

The real danger does not lie in belief itself, but in the mechanism of identification. When a person can be labelled a witch because someone claims to see what others cannot, the accusation becomes unchecked power.

Namibia’s Witchcraft Suppression Act of 1957 was designed with that reality in mind. The law does not attempt to settle whether witchcraft exists.

It targets the consequences of accusation, criminalising the act of labelling someone a witch, claiming supernatural powers for gain, or using such claims to intimidate or harm.

Older societies, too, recognised the danger of unchecked accusations. They did not allow claims of witchcraft to be made casually or by individuals acting alone.

Instead, such matters were taken to elders, councils or traditional courts, where they could be examined collectively. These forums were not simply about determining guilt or innocence, but about containing conflict, restoring order and protecting the fabric of the community.

Testimony would be heard, elders would deliberate, and decisions would be guided as much by the need to prevent division as by belief itself.

The process placed limits on individual authority and ensured that no single voice could define another person’s fate. The aim was not perfection or absolute truth, but stability — to stop fear from spreading unchecked and to prevent accusations from turning into lasting social fractures.

What is emerging now is something different. A shift from process to proclamation. From community verification to individual declaration.

In this case, the authority rests with one man. His experience. His belief. His certainty.

Whether witchcraft exists or not is not the question. The question is who decides. When one man can accuse, judge and condemn on the strength of a vision, then belief stops being personal and becomes power. And power, when left unchecked, always finds its victims.