Muti and Witchcraft
Muti. The word might be unfamiliar to many outside Africa, but in countries like South Africa, Zimbabwe, Lesotho, and Eswatini it’s part of everyday language. In Southern Africa, “muti” (from the Zulu umuthi, meaning “tree”) refers broadly to traditional medicine. It can mean an herbal remedy for a cough, a potion to bring good luck, or any healing charm passed down through generations. However, this simple word also carries a dual meaning. For some, muti is sacred medicine – a source of healing and ancestral wisdom. For others, it evokes fear, whispered in the same breath as witchcraft and dark occult rituals. Understanding the relationship between muti and witchcraft means looking at African traditional practices with nuance: how a revered healing tradition can sometimes cross into the shadowy realm of curses and even crime.
There’s another layer few are prepared to consider: the idea that the rituals we perform—whether out of reverence, fear, or necessity—might not just shape our own world but ripple into others. In many traditional beliefs, spirits, demons, or non-human intelligences are part of that equation. These forces may not simply be passively observed; they may be reactive, technologically cloaked, or spiritually charged presences that are nudged—or even summoned—by human ritual. As such, muti isn’t just cultural—it may also be interactive across dimensions.
Across Southern Africa, muti is a pillar of indigenous culture and healthcare. The term is widely used in many African languages, and even in South African English and Afrikaans as a colloquial word for medicine. At its core, muti is about healing. Traditional healers – often called sangomas (diviners) or inyangas (herbalists) – use an array of natural products to treat ailments of body and spirit. Much of this materia medica comes from plants. Remedies might include powdered tree bark for fever, roots for stomach ailments, or aromatic herbs burned to cleanse a home. In fact, a great deal of the stock in any muti market consists of plant matter, reflecting centuries of botanical knowledge. Animal-based ingredients also feature: lion fat may be used to instill courage in children, or python skin burned to ward off evil influences. Minerals and clays can be included too. All of these are collectively called muthi or muti, essentially traditional “medicine” in the broadest sense.
In South Africa alone, there are an estimated 200,000 traditional healers, greatly outnumbering Western-trained doctors. These healers are highly respected in their communities, fulfilling roles that go beyond treating physical illness. They serve as advisors and counselors, addressing emotional and spiritual troubles as well as health issues. A person might visit a sangoma for anything from high blood pressure to a troubled marriage. The continued relevance of muti is evident in daily life. Even urban city-dwellers encounter it through ubiquitous flyers advertising traditional cures. Stroll through Johannesburg and you may receive a provocative pamphlet promising miracle solutions – “penis enlargement,” winning court cases, finding lost love – all through the power of muti. These ads, tacked on street poles or handed out by touts, underscore how deeply ingrained traditional healing remains, even alongside modern clinics and pharmacies.
Yet, while muti is mainstream in Southern Africa, it is sometimes misunderstood by outsiders as primitive or “mystical” medicine. In reality, many remedies have real pharmacological effects. Efforts are underway to bridge indigenous knowledge with modern science – a kind of cross-cultural validation of what elders have long known. As many healers explain, muti is not witchcraft but herbal medication. “People should stop saying muti is witchcraft; these are plants gathered from the earth, carefully selected and prepared for healing. How can plants be used to destroy, when they’re meant to restore?” This view reflects a sentiment echoed widely among practitioners and clients: muti is simply traditional healing, a proud inheritance, not some dark art.
Muti also includes specific botanical examples: Commelina africana is used for menstrual and bladder issues, Agapanthus praecox is taken orally during pregnancy to aid labor, and Chlorophytum comosum serves as a charm against evil spirits. These examples highlight its role in both physical healing and spiritual protection.
Though grounded in herbal lore, muti is also intertwined with spirituality. In African traditional belief systems, health is often seen as a balance between the physical and the spiritual. Illness or misfortune might be attributed to unhappy ancestors, malevolent spirits, or curse attacks by witchcraft. Here is where muti and what some might call “magic” meet. Sangomas (spirit healers) undergo years of training and initiation – a calling often revealed through vivid dreams – to serve as intermediaries between the living and the ancestral realm. They perform rituals to diagnose and heal spiritual afflictions. A typical consultation may involve drumming, chanting, or tossing bones and shells on the ground – a form of divination to read a client’s problems and discern the will of the ancestors. Healing often requires appeasing or invoking ancestors, and using muti is part of that ritual process. For example, burning certain herbs (like impepho, a type of sage) and inhaling their smoke is said to call ancestral spirits for guidance. In this context, muti isn’t just a physical medicine but a spiritually charged medium – each herb or animal part can carry symbolic power or a connection to a particular ancestor or deity.
This spiritual aspect can look like “witchcraft” to an uninformed observer, because it deals with invisible forces and rituals. Indeed, the term “witch doctor” has often been used (sometimes pejoratively) to describe sangomas. In truth, the relationship between traditional healer and witch in African cosmology is complex. A healer’s job frequently includes counteracting witchcraft – identifying the source of a curse or removing harmful magic cast by an evil person. In other words, a sangoma is more akin to an anti-witchcraft specialist than a witch themselves. They are the people you turn to when you fear witchcraft has caused illness or misfortune, to obtain protective muti or rituals to cleanse the bad luck.
Nonetheless, there is an overlap where muti and witchcraft seem to meet: the use of charms or potions for purposes beyond healing – such as securing wealth, power, or love by supernatural means. Many African communities accept that certain muti can be used for benign magic. Some of these practices are light-hearted or symbolic. For instance, at South African soccer matches, it’s not unheard of for teams to sprinkle muti on the field for luck – a blend of sports superstition and traditional belief. Similarly, a love potion made from herbs might be quietly used by someone hoping to win affection. These acts fall into a grey area between spiritual practice and what one might label folk magic.
In the most extreme cases, muti crosses a disturbing line into ritual killings—known as “muti murders.” These rare but horrifying incidents involve the harvesting of human body parts, often from vulnerable individuals like children or persons with albinism, under the belief that these parts hold powerful magical properties. The killings are typically commissioned in secret, driven by greed, desperation, or a desire for power. In some of these darker practices, animal sacrifice may also be involved—particularly in rituals seeking to channel energy, influence spiritual forces, or fulfill supernatural requests. Chickens, goats, or other animals might be used in offerings believed to open communication with spirits or ancestors, while in more malevolent acts, specific creatures may be selected for symbolism in spellwork or curses.
The story of muti and witchcraft in Africa is ultimately one of balance – between light and dark, tradition and modernity, faith and fear. Muti is medicine, but like any powerful medicine, intention matters. Used by a caring healer, it’s a source of comfort and cure. Twisted by greed or hatred, it becomes something malevolent. Understanding muti means appreciating context. It’s the grandmother picking herbs for a cold, the drumming in a nighttime healing ceremony, or the tragic headline about a ritual killing. African societies navigate this relationship by cherishing the positive and condemning the negative.
But there’s also a broader metaphysical reality at play. There may be advanced or non-human technologies and entities engaged in a form of ritual feedback loop with us. Our intentions, our spells, and our sacrifices – whether protective or harmful – might not only affect the seen world, but ripple into dimensions that interact back. This is where the spiritual use of muti can become a signal or a beacon, consciously or unconsciously inviting energies in. Just as ancient cultures described demons, jinn, or spirits, today’s encounters may involve something technologically cloaked but spiritually reactive. In that sense, muti is not only a tool of healing or harm—it’s a transmitter.
Muti is as much about life as it is about mystery. It occupies a space where science, spirituality, and folklore intersect. It has healed the sick and guided the troubled for centuries. The task now is ensuring that this heritage is preserved and respected, while abuses are stopped. That way, communities can continue to practice with pride, and the world can begin to understand the difference between healing and horror—and possibly recognize who or what might be listening when those rituals are performed.
