“In the beginning…God spoke and said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness…’” (Genesis 1;26, New International Version).

Origins 

The stories my parents shared about me as a child tell me that I came out of my mother’s womb being different. The difference ranged from things like being left-handed to exhibiting wisdom far beyond my years evidenced when, as a preschooler, I told my folks that I had not asked to be born while throwing a tantrum. I was also physically different from my older siblings, who were both lighter-skinned and thinner than I was. Of course, the physical differences only implied that I took the physical attributes of my father’s people, unlike my sisters, who are splitting images of my mother. Still, people could easily tell that I was an odd child, but it never occurred to my parents to pay special attention to me.

My earliest memories date back to being a preschooler. One involved arguing with my sisters about God when I was four. They had ganged up on me to reprimand me for something I had said that was supposedly offensive to God. And in my childish, yet prescient way, I challenged their notion of God and their assumed authority as God’s mouthpieces. I do not remember how the argument ended, but I was outnumbered and outsized, so I can only imagine that they subdued me to submission. 

I grew up with Christian parents who were also quite superstitious, which is common among Nigerians and, indeed, Africans. Another early memory I have is of my father leaving his spot on the couch and walking over to the dining table where my sisters and I ate dinner to swat me because I was eating with my left hand. Years later, almost 30 of them, when I was certain that the vague memory was not a dream, I asked my father about it and he confirmed my suspicions apologetically; as a child, I had been left-handed, but afraid of what it meant, and perhaps uninterested in raising a left-handed daughter, they compelled me to learn how to use my right hand. The result of their compulsion was a severe stutter that I struggled with for at least two years.

When I was eight, my family moved from the ancient city of Kano, Nigeria, to a semi-rural town in Kaduna, our home state. During the first week at my new school, I met a girl named Winnie and fell deeply in love with her. One night, I had a dream that Winnie and I got married in a beautiful underwater ceremony. Out of excitement, I told my mother about this dream and this one innocent act from the otherwise clueless child I was would go on to change my life forever.

My paternal ancestors come from a remote village in southern Kaduna state named Sambe. My ancestors spoke Sambe, a language that has now been extinct for almost 20 years. However, because Sambe is located within a larger chiefdom, Sambe people also speak Ninzam (or Ninzo) the language of that chiefdom. It is worth noting here that Sambe was not a dialect of Ninzam, however, as the wave of colonization swept through Nigeria, my ancestors were lumped with the larger ethnicity in the part of Kaduna state where they had settled.

This detail about the origin of my people and the language they spoke is important because when I was born, my father and his parents decided to name me Utso, derived from the Sambe word “Zuzzoh,” meaning “again.” Although my grandparents were also Christians, they held onto their traditional beliefs, and the name Utso reflected their belief in reincarnation. It is unclear to me who they believed I was a reincarnation of, but my paternal grandmother, who was the family witch for a long time and whose name I would eventually take, insisted that I be given the name Utso.

From Nyame We Came

The Akan of the West African region, now known as Ghana, believe that our lifeforce- the human soul comes from a genitrix, a female deity and creator of the universe named Nyame Amowia. Nyame’s physical manifestation is the moon, and as the myth goes, when a child is conceived, it receives the life force- Kra, given by the Sun deity, Nyankopon, who acts on behalf of Nyame Amowia. Often, a child will receive the Kra of an ancestor who still has an unfilled mission from their previous life on Earth. In such cases, Nyankopon condemns a person’s soul to perpetual reincarnation until the soul fulfills its mission and resolves all pending contracts. Only after this can the soul return to its source and become one again with Nyame’s eternal Kra.

After I told my mother about my dream in which Winnie and I were wedded in an underwater ceremony, she and my father panicked. At first, I did not understand what their fear meant and why they were suddenly apprehensive about the dream, which I found to be rather enchanting, but as time went on, things became clearer. 

In the small Christian town of southern Kaduna where we lived, several rumors circulated about children who flew at night. It was never clear where these children flew to but it was widely believed that wherever they went and whatever they got up to was diabolical and so parents of such children were thrown into wild frenzies trying to save them from being initiated into these nightly adventures. It was believed that these nightly escapades were evil and resulted in catastrophic events for the children’s families. So, upon learning about my dream, my parental unit fell into a panic because it had become clear to them that I was one of these flying children.  

Days, perhaps, weeks after this dream, I was taken to the church of a prophet who was reputed for delivering children like me from what was now being called a cult. I spent two nights at this church which was quite literally in the middle of a forest. Even though I have memories that date back to when I was three years old, the only thing I remember of my time at this place was my eight-year-old body being bathed by a man in the dark of night under a full moon. 

Afterward, I returned home and fell horribly and mysteriously ill. The illness lasted for about four weeks and I was lifeless for most of it. Thrown further into panic, my parents took me to the doctors in our small town where they found that there was nothing medically wrong with me even though I was frail and barely conscious. Helpless and afraid of losing me, my parents bundled me and drove to the bigger city closest to us. There, too, I saw doctors, and they confirmed what the doctors in our small town had told my parents; there was nothing they could see that was medically wrong with me. 

Not finding the answers they sought, I was taken back to church for more prayers. This time, we ended up at the main Catholic Dioceses in Jos where a bishop prayed over me. We left without any real improvement in my health, and after my father returned to base for the sake of his job, my mother took matters into her own hands. 

I was taken, finally, to the small compound of a traditional medicine man who told my mother that my spirit was fading but assured her that he was able to anchor me back to this realm. I vaguely recall sitting in the middle of the compound around a fire where I was bathed in incense and offered a concoction of local emetics to help me release something I ingested that was responsible for the mysterious illness. As soon as I swallowed the herbal drink, it came back out of me, and with the third and final jerk of my body, I threw up a metallic ring that I still have no explanation for how it got to be inside of me. 

A Second Lease at Life

My mother took me home, and days later, I started to regain my strength. Whatever this medicine man did had worked. Months later, I turned nine years old and chose a new name for myself. I wanted to be called Laraba, the Hausa word for Wednesday, after the day of the week I was born. My parents laughed at it and did not take me seriously. However, an uncle, my father’s younger brother, was kind enough to acknowledge my decision and call me by the name I chose for myself. Years later, I would learn that I was born on Tuesday, not on Wednesday, as my parents had thought and it would be too late because Laraba had become my official name and I was quite attached to it and uninterested in changing it.

Even several more years would pass before my sister would reveal to me that my paternal grandmother’s name was also Laraba, though hardly anyone addressed her by that name.  

My experience with the local medicine man gave me a new lease on life, and even though it was not the prophet who ended up ‘healing’ me, this series of events also gave my parents a new lease on faith and turned them into fervent Christians. 

When I turned 10, we moved away from our small town in Kaduna into a big city, Nigeria’s burgeoning capital, Abuja. Moving to Abuja expanded this new lease I had for many reasons, including that I was now of secondary school age. Within months of arriving in the Capital, I was sent off to boarding school but not before I noticed how the events of the previous couple of years turned my parents into paranoid people who had become antagonistic towards me. My father, especially, did not miss an opportunity to blame me for any unfortunate incident within the family. When a family member had an accident, fell ill, or, God forbid, died, I was accused of knowing about it, and worse, having something to do with it.

I still remember one Sunday morning when my sister fell ill with malaria and typhoid and started to barf in the middle of Sunday service. My father, who hated inconvenience more than anything, experienced the oh-so-horrible inconvenience of attending to his sick daughter and leaving church mid-service. He eventually ended up taking out his frustration on me when he accused me of making my sister sick.

The aggression, antagonism, and sometimes violence I experienced turned me into a recluse and precluded me from the necessary bond every child needs with its primary caregivers to feel safe in the world. This break in trust with my parents made me somewhat thankful for the boarding house experience, even though, as I would later find, that also came with its traumas. But at least, I was away from these people I loved so much who seemed to have decided that I was too peculiar and sinister a child and must thus be handled violently.

What is a Witch?

“What is a witch? I noticed that when he said the word, it was marked with disapproval. Why should that be? Why? Isn’t the ability to communicate with the invisible world, to keep constant links with the dead, to care for others, and to heal a superior gift of nature that inspires respect, admiration, and gratitude? Consequently, shouldn’t the witch (if that’s what the person who has this gift is to be called) be cherished and revered rather than feared?” — I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem by Maryse Conde

The word “witch” has a complex etymology that can be traced back to the Old English words “Wicca” (masculine) and “Wicce” (feminine). These words describe people who practiced magic, sorcery, and divination in the Anglo-Saxon culture. The exact origin of the words is still a matter of debate among scholars. However, they are believed to be derived from Proto-Germanic, a reconstructed language that was the ancestor of Germanic dialects, including Gothic, Old Norse, and Old Saxon.

The word “witch” is also related to the Old Norse word “víkja,” meaning “to bend” or “to turn.” This connection has led some researchers to suggest that the original meaning of “witch” was someone who could bend or shape reality to their will through magical means. The practice of witchcraft has a long and storied history, dating back to ancient times. Throughout history, depending on the cultural context, witches have been feared or revered. In some cultures, witches were believed to have supernatural powers that could be used for good or evil. In other cultures, they were seen as evil beings who could bring harm and misfortune to others.

Long before the spread of Christianity throughout Europe and other parts of the world, many cultures believed in the existence of magic and supernatural beings. These beliefs were the basis of recognizing the presence of individuals thought to possess magical abilities, like healers, seers, wise men, and women. These figures were either regarded with great fear or respect and often sought out for their counsel and aid within their communities.

The rise and expansion of Christianity in Europe slowly suppressed pagan beliefs and practices in which witches played a pivotal role. The Christian Church deemed witchcraft as heresy and associated it with the worship of the devil. Consequently, individuals accused of witchcraft were persecuted, particularly during the late Middle Ages and early modern period. The most infamous period of witch hunts occurred in the 16th and 17th centuries, primarily in Europe and North America.

During this period, the accusation of witchcraft often resulted in trial and execution. Those accused of witchcraft were frequently women, particularly those who were single or elderly. Accusations of witchcraft were usually rooted in fear, superstition, and prejudice, and the evidence was often based on hearsay alone. The result was the execution of thousands of innocent people who were believed to be guilty of witchcraft. This period remains one of the darkest and most tragic chapters in human history.

The arrival of Christianity on indigenous lands in Africa also significantly impacted the belief in and practices of traditional [pagan] spiritual systems. Like in Europe and North America, these practices were demonized, and practitioners were persecuted for holding on to their indigenous spiritual systems. Christian missionaries on the Continent led a different kind of crusade where they actively sought to convert indigenous peoples to Christianity, and the basis on which they did that was the demonization of traditional and so-called pagan beliefs and practices.

The portrayal of traditional belief systems and practices as demonic or satanic caught on and spread, and soon, people who insisted and held on to these beliefs were perceived as practitioners of witchcraft and were often vilified as agents of the devil.

A lesser spoken-about history of the vilification of animistic and traditional belief systems on the African continent is the advent of Islam and its influence. In Nigeria, unlike Christianity, which came first through the south, Islam entered from the north first by tradespeople who traveled through the region and interacted with the locals. In later years and through brute force, Islamists would wipe out indigenous belief systems and their practitioners through the Jihad led by Uthman Dan Fodio, who established one of the largest Caliphates on the continent. 

Similar to Christianity, which had been spreading across southern Nigeria, Islam’s emphasis on monotheism challenged the polytheistic beliefs of the indigenous cultures it encountered across northern Nigeria. The concept of a single, all-powerful God in Christianity and Islam contradicted the belief in multiple deities and spirits recognized and propitiated within indigenous animistic belief systems. 

The suppression of traditional beliefs, in addition to the vilification of their practitioners as witches and wizards, has resulted in the decline and disappearance of many traditional polytheistic beliefs and practices in Nigeria and much of the African continent. 

Born This Way

Across the world, and thanks to the prevalence of the internet, it is now common knowledge that certain children are born with memories that precede their birth, extrasensory perception (ESP), and abilities that are often referred to as “psychic” gifts. 

Modern mystics, many of whom are animists and in previous times would be considered adherents of traditional or pagan spiritual systems, have sought to explain the phenomenon of so-called psychic or gifted children. In the 70s and 80s, children born with psychic gifts were referred to as “Indigo Children.” The origin and rationale for the name are unclear, however, these children were perceived as showing heightened intuition, empathy, and sensitivity that set them apart from others. 

Similarly, the term “Crystal Children” was also used to describe children born with exceptional sensitivity, intuition, and spiritual awareness. They were perceived as connected with nature and often displayed advanced healing abilities and psychic talents. Other psychically gifted children in this group include “Star Children” who are believed to come from beyond Earth and are known to possess advanced spiritual skills such as telepathy, telekinesis, and the ability to astrally project. 

Whether or not one believes that there are children born with these special gifts and abilities is quite inconsequential. The fact that there has been enough evidence gathered to name and even group them lends some credence to the claim. Furthermore, the presence of historical research and data shows that it is not a recent phenomenon but rather a historical and cross-cultural one that has arguably persisted throughout human civilization. The terminology discussed above originates from the global West, however, it is a fact across indigenous cultures worldwide that some children are innately gifted beyond the ordinary. 

Within Indigenous cultures, certainly, within my Nigerian heritage, it is common to say that a child who exhibits certain special traits and characteristics is the reincarnation of a departed ancestor. We attribute these exceptional abilities to previous relatives who might have had or demonstrated similar abilities perhaps because it is the only way we can explain and understand how and why these children, who are still new to the world, could possess such advanced gifts, talents, and knowledge. 

In one of his teachings, Elder Malidoma Patrice Somé, a Dagara shaman from Burkina Faso, stated: “No one comes into this world for no reason. We come into this world carrying a gift and with a purpose to deliver that gift in the brightest way possible.” 

This belief is sacred among the Dagara people in Burkina Faso and other indigenous cultures worldwide. Furthermore, it fits with the Akan belief that a soul continues to reincarnate within the same lineage until it perfects its original purpose for being sent to Earth. It is logical, then, to conclude that a soul that has reincarnated several times will continue to do so, with vague or sometimes pronounced gifts and abilities from all its previous lifetimes.

In modern times, the way a culture chooses to perceive and treat its young, who are born with advanced gifts and abilities, is perhaps the most accurate reflection of how much damage colonialism has done to that culture. Still, some indigenous cultures persevere, and some are even able to protect their children from the terrors of colonialism. Like within Native American cultures where Two-spirit individuals still exist and are celebrated for the roles they play in their societies.

Despite efforts by Western colonization to erase their existence due to their non-conformity to the gender binary, Two-spirit individuals continue to be highly respected members of many Native American nations where they serve specialized roles in their communities, such as healers, shamans, and ceremonial leaders. Their existence is a testament to supernatural intervention sanctioned by various and sometimes similar mythologies, which many of these nations have fought hard to preserve.

Walking Back

I went through my teenage years rejecting myself without consciously being aware of the fact. My family became afraid of me, so I became fearful of myself. I prayed fervently as my mother encouraged me, and I read the Bible too. However, none of these things changed who I knew myself to be; strangely gifted with abilities that I neither understood nor had the words to explain to help others understand me.

The one ability that stood out for me as a child and continues to stand out even as an adult is the gift of clairvoyance. The word comes from French and means “clear vision,” referring to the ability to perceive information about people, events, or places without using the physical senses. This ability manifests in various forms, including, and especially visions. These visions have appeared as mental images, in dreams, or as flashes of insight. However, my clairvoyant abilities are expressed mostly through dreams. A recent and now favorite example of this was dreaming that my now ex-partner and I got into a very heated argument, which became physical, on the same night they were cheating on me in another country.

Similarly, I have also experienced claircognizance since childhood. It is the gift of intuitive and instinctive knowledge or insights without relying on rational thought or logical deduction. The word is also French, meaning “clear knowing,” and is generally considered one of the four primary forms of extrasensory perception. I have several experiences of sensing and knowing things about people, things, or places without receiving or having any prior information. I can sense when people are lying, and have always been able to pick up on when someone is thinking of me because they either reach out shortly after or show up in my dreams, sometimes both. More recently, I have been able to sense when a particular housemate is several minutes away from home. At first, I thought it was a fluke but it has now happened too frequently that I would feel their presence when they are not home, and minutes later they would walk through the front door.

After years of struggling to understand these gifts and not finding any reasonable explanations within the Christian faith, I finally left the church for its lack of answers and the fact that I had never truly felt the conviction the faith required of me. After I left the church, I realized that my previous attempts to fit within the faith felt forced and did not come to me as naturally as the intuitive insights I had about God, heaven, hell, and the nature of Spirit. 

I spent my twenties exploring alternative spiritual beliefs and learning about God outside the confines of organized religions. In that time, I learned more about God and spirituality than I ever did in the church. Eventually, my quest led me back to my roots, the spiritual beliefs and practices of my ancestors, before they were demonized by both Christianity and Islam.

I arrived at Animism when I started to study the African spiritual systems. To be honest, I had arrived at it earlier but had quickly moved past it because I was taken by Eastern spiritual systems. Besides, when I attempted to discuss our ancestral beliefs with my father, he flared up and then shut down. Going by previous experience, I knew it was safer to shelve that idea than attempt to push a discussion he was not interested in having. What I did not know or anticipate was that I would return to it again later. Yet, in my late twenties, I was nudged to shift my focus back home to the very beliefs I had learned were evil and had subconsciously believed to be so. 

Animism, widely recognized as the oldest known spiritual system, continues to endure among numerous indigenous cultures across the globe. At the core of this belief system lies the premise that all natural elements, the Earth, trees, mountains, fire, wind, and bodies of water, are endowed with consciousness and spiritual essence. The word itself is of Latin origin, “anima,” which translates to “soul” or “life force.” However, the underlying idea predates the term and has its roots in the ancient cultures of prehistoric societies. 

Animism was a meaning-making practice that allowed the earliest humans to forge relationships with the world around them. There is evidence of animistic practices from the Paleolithic Era— roughly 2.5 million years ago when the earliest humans are believed to have existed, including cave paintings and artifacts that depict a deep reverence for animals, plants, and celestial bodies.

At its core, animistic belief asserts that all things possess a spiritual essence or soul regardless of their nature. This essence is not exclusive to humans but extends to animals, plants, rivers, mountains, and even inanimate objects like stones and tools. Animists believe that an inherent spirituality permeates all aspects of existence, imbuing everything with consciousness, agency, and the ability to impact the world.

What keeps me firmly rooted in animism is how it perceives and explains the interconnectedness and interdependence of all living things, emphasizing the existence of a complex web of relationships between all beings. This interconnectedness gives rise to a sense of reverence, respect, and responsibility toward nature. The animistic way of life seeks to maintain the delicate balance between humans and the natural world. Its emphasis on the spiritual dimension of life and the interconnectedness of all things resonates with me and has helped me secure a place for myself in the world.

After all, a local medicine man, someone who many would call a “witch doctor,” gave me a second lease on life. Looking back at the experience through the lens of an adult, I see now that truly, my anima- my very life force, was slowly fading away from this realm and there were several reasons why, including, also, that at the time when my family was worried that I was flying at night, I was repeatedly being sexually and physically abused. It is now clear that the psyche of the eight-year-old girl I was had been overburdened and I had begun to instinctively shut myself down. 

A Witch

In the year 2020, after a brutal attack by the Nigerian Police during the EndSARS protests turned me into somewhat of a local hero, a friendship blossomed between myself and a poet who had been a mutual on Twitter for at least a year by that time. He seized the opportunity of my distress to slide into my DMs and a close friendship grew between us. Weeks passed, and we got closer, even to the point of talking for hours talking on the phone. One of those nights during our long talks, he seized another opportunity to ask a question that had been burning in his mind. 

“So, are you a witch, or is that just something you play with?” and like the accused witch in Maryse Conde’s, I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem, I wondered, what is a witch? 

By this time, I had grown to accept my extrasensory perceptions as the gifts they are, rather than a curse that doomed me to a life of strangeness. Indeed, I often joked that I was a witch and sometimes even a prophetess, but I preferred a witch because it was more provocative. So when he asked, and no one had ever asked me this, I paused momentarily and thought about it. 

I had just started learning divination that year and was thus in training to strengthen my abilities and connection with the world of Spirit. Furthermore, I had been forging a relationship with the spirit of my late grandmother, whose name I bear with pride, and in so doing, I was keeping constant links to the dead; my grandmother, her oldest daughter, my late uncle whose spirit lingers quietly around the house my parents still live in.

I was also getting more comfortable with the fact that I intuitively knew what others needed, and this ability made me a decent caregiver. I was also divining for friends and had, months earlier, contacted a dear friend’s loved one who had transitioned and who, much to my surprise, came through in a divination session. I was becoming more versed in using the gifts that had previously made me strange to help the people I cared about and even those I did not but who sought my help. While I jokingly called myself a witch, others called me a healer which was unnerving because it carried a lot of responsibility. Still, I learned quickly to acquiesce all resistance to the term and focus instead on what my spirit knew to be one of its main roles: to help others see the truth and come to a fuller understanding of themselves and the roles their spirits have chosen to play in this lifetime.

So, in response to this question from a man I had grown fond of, fully knowing that I had been practicing what many, and even I, would describe as witchcraft, and knowing that my answer could make or break the friendship, I said, “Yes, I am a witch. It is something I play around with, and it is also something I believe in and practice.” 

A week or two later, I got on a call with him, hoping to have our usual chat. Instead, he told me that things between us had gotten too close and that he wanted space because he did not want to get closer. I knew that I had once again been rejected on account of my strangeness and rather than tighten my grip as I had often done in the past, I chose to let him slip through my fingers holding only tightly to my authenticity.

This essay was longlisted for the Women’s Nonfiction Workshop (2024) by Cassava Republic.