How Dafonsech dribbled sleepy Zim ‘healer’

TUYEIMO HAIDULA







EENHANA

The clock strikes 17:30 on Tuesday - the day after Valentine’s. We are at Sibanda’s Clinic, an establishment run by a Zimbabwean ‘traditional healer’ in Ohangwena’s Eenhana for the past 15 years.

An undercover police officer, chief inspector Christina van Dunem Dafonsech, has her civilian clothes on – a checkered Oshiwambo traditional dress, ohema yeenhulo, and head attire, oshikaiwa. She, like six others of us - undercover journalists and police officers – are pretending to be possessed by demons in varying ways.

Among us are those supposedly struggling to conceive, while others are visiting to tame abusive boyfriends. Our roles have been well rehearsed.

As we patiently wait our turn, we discreetly go through our lines again.

Dafonsech and her lieutenants are here to arrest ‘healer’ Coster Wirosi, but not without evidence of his manipulative ways at which locals have suffered for a decade and a half. Ohangwena Region police spokesperson Abner Itumba is with us, clad in green overalls with B2Gold insignia.

Arrangements were made in advance to inform Wirosi that we, a group of troubled patients, will visit his practice.

We call the woman who is supposed to receive us from my phone. She doesn’t answer. I send a message. “Mwalelepo meme, oshe ava twapumbwa ekwafo tuli poshipangelo apa mEenhana. Natu uke peni [Good morning, this is us who are seeking help at your hospital in Eenhana, which side must we go]?”

She calls back immediately.

Police cars are parked far and we walked to the ‘clinic’.

After arriving, it is clear this house has operated as a divination centre for 15 years. The bookkeeping records show that clients have to pay for consultation fees - from as little as N$50 to just anything over N$8 000, depending on the complexity of the ailment.

The healer seems to be doing well – economically. There is a Mercedes Benz parked outside. Next to the house are rooms for rent. We sit on benches outside, waiting for assistance.

After 20 minutes, a woman clad in a red top and black jeans attends to us and invites us inside.

She asks that we remove our shoes as they do not enter the ‘holy’ place. She walks us through the basics of the process of spiritual healing, detailing the well-crafted steps, a ploy perfected with practice.

The room is decorated with animal skins, bark, calabashes, animal skeletons, bones and a number of small bottles containing unidentified liquids.

Family problems

Here is our sketch: We are from the same family but have different issues. Dafonsech presents our problems to the healer. We are four sisters accompanied by three of our cousins. She tells the healer, who speaks to us through an interpreter, Sarafina Mhazo (32). Mhazo is a Namibian who hails from Omulondo village. Dafonsech and I are allegedly struggling to conceive. She’s married, I’m not. Her rings are also visible on her finger, so that shouldn’t be hard for the healer to believe.

Wirosi bounces excitedly in his blue chair as he mimics the toyi-toying of the traditional healers. Nothing reveals he’s a fake sangoma. He is wearing a striped T-shirt with grey jeans. His feet are bare.

He looks at us. Asks that we keep our hands open so he can clearly read what the issue causing our problems is.

He asks that we remove our face masks and he maintains eye contact as he “consulted” with the ancestors.

The client, he emphasises, has to put at least N$50 in a basket before the healing process can begin. This covers the consultation fee, but also serves to invite the spirits.

There are preset answers for every common problem, he says: Lost lover, lack of a job, nightmares, business success, rekindling love in marriages, favour at work and success in life – the latter usually being the most expensive service on offer.

The key, Mhazo explains, is to prescribe highly unlikely conditions the client has to meet for success, so that failure – the usual outcome – can be blamed on the client who cannot follow the rules.

“If you tell a client and they do not understand the instructions, they will fail. So, you need to ask for it to be repeated if it is not clear,” she tells us.

Ten minutes later, after answering a few simple questions, I am diagnosed with demons.

Mhazo tells Dafonsech that she has taken her demons from our family to her marriage and now risks passing them onto the husband. She then continues to say I have the biggest demon and I pass it on to my ‘sister’, Dafonsech.

“You struggle to sleep at night. And most of the times you wake up sick and you cannot explain why. You are also getting promotions at work and then you lose your job. Your colleagues are jealous of you at every company you move to. Your ex boyfriends all leave you the same way,” Mhazo tells me Wirosi is saying.

Blown cover

Mhazo tells us that for me and Dafonsech to have our demons exorcised, we have to cough up N$8 000 for a house call so the healer can visit our mother’s house to save the entire family.

Irritated by the diagnosis and suggestions that they can cure our illnesses, solve our problems or rid us of ‘bad spirits’ when scientific treatments fail, Dafonsech stands and tells the two that she is not a client.

“You are telling us nonsense. Get up! Do you know who I am? We do not condone such activities. We are arresting you,” she says, whipping out her police badge.

Mhazo and Wirosi look unfazed. As though they are in a dream and their work of almost 20 years cannot be over in a blink of an eye. Dafonsech moves closer, holding the badge in order for them to read it carefully. There are no lies. They remained quiet for about five minutes before gathering strength to answer police officer’s questions.

Exploitation

Dafonsech scolds the healers that they prey on those with a strong belief in such methods, leaving some vulnerable people open to exploitation.

She says those who are drawn in by people like Wirosi are usually desperate.

“Fake healers prey on the vulnerable who feel they have nowhere else to turn and no one else to talk to. They are clever. It is sad someone will use these tricks and fake herbs to take money from people.”

The jig is up. Mhazo and Wirosi are ushered to Eenhana police station, leaving us to deal with our ‘demons’ ourselves.

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