Get me a real witch

Get me a real witch

A few months ago a senior official at the Independent Electoral Commission (IEC) threatened to unleash some witchcraft on colleagues.
Lebohang Bulane, acting director of elections at the commission, had been pissed off after someone lashed his tyres.
It is suspected the culprit meant to give Bulane a free lesson on the pitfalls of clamouring for a position taller than him.
Whether Bulane was making idle threats or dead serious is unclear.
We may never know if he has any witching powers.

Witchcraft, as we all know, is largely a matter of belief. What we know is that a few days later Bulane was singing to people about the power of his wizardry.
He said his sorcery worked because the culprit had confessed his little prank to him.
Muckraker could not fathom the logic in gloating over a mere confession that doesn’t come with consequences.
If all your witchcraft can only induce is an urge to come clean without restitution, then you are an amateur of a witch.

In this case, the culprit is alleged to have confessed but Bulane still had to dig into his pocket to buy new tyres. That could mean three things: either Bulane did not get the full concoction of his muti or he just did not mix it right or he cannot even bewitch a cockroach with a Doom spray. This is because real witchcraft comes with fury. You either go mad or get sick.
And you continue to writhe in agony until you have paid for your alleged transgressions. Muckraker believes Bulane has neither the skill nor the muti to bewitch even a mosquito.
He was just playing a psychological game he thought would pay off. It is doubtful that anyone confessed to damaging his tyres.

The witchcraft story at the IEC got Muckraker’s imagination racing.
Muckraker has been told that Lesotho has some of the most talented and dangerous witches in Africa.
A friend recently swore that in the art of witchcraft Lesotho comes third to Malawi and Zimbabwe. It has been said that the two countries have witches so powerful that they can make privates disappear or strike you with lightning on a sunny day.

Muckraker has never lived in those countries but she believes their reputation is a result of fables so routinely peddled that they have become facts.
Those are fantastic factoids. Why didn’t Zimbabwe’s witches deal with Mugabe?
Why can’t witches in Malawi bewitch their way to prosperity?
The same applies to the witchcraft stories in Lesotho. There is zero evidence that we have brilliant wizards in our midst. We are either fake witches or we are just doing a lousy job of it.

Let me tell you why.
For years LCD leader, Mothetjoa Metsing, has been one of the most reviled politicians here.
Yet he perambulates the streets of Maseru. It is inconceivable that all the witches in this country love him. Surely there must be a dozen of witches who wish to send him yonder.
But here he is, leading his pathetic party without even an irritation on his nails.
For nearly two decades Size Two ruled this country as thousands of people cursed him and his shadow.
There are people who wouldn’t buy a newspaper with Size Two’s picture on it.

Some would puke as soon as they see him on TV.
Others would spit at the sight of his motorcade.
Some would lose their appetite at the mention of his name.
Yet today the man is tending his camels in Qacha’s Nek without suffering even the whiff of muti.
Former army commander, Tlali Kamoli, is wallowing in prison despite being one of the most hated men in this country. He is not having a good time behind bars but he is in good health. His alleged heinous crimes don’t seem to bother our so called witches.
Meanwhile, we still claim to have witches in abundance.

If this country has witches, they would have used their powers and brews to intervene in the ABC fiasco.
One of those warring factions should have stumbled across a talented wizard to deal with its enemies.
The idea is not to dispatch their nemeses to their ancestors. At the barest minimum they could use the witch to make the enemies so forgetful that they don’t remember who and why they are fighting.
It shouldn’t take a highly potent mixture to inflict forgetitis on a political enemy.
They could also make their opponent stutter every time they address a political rally. How about making the enemy say something vulgar when they mention your name?
Instead of saying ‘Mahao’ or ‘Thabane’ enemy would say something about privates. It’s a fair game because he who has been hit by witchcraft is at liberty to hire their own sorcerer. After all, we are told this country is teeming with witches.

With a good witch, the mischief you can unleash on an opponent is immeasurable.
Mahao’s camp could make Uncle Tom suddenly develop a passion for litolobonya dance.
Uncle Tom’s camp could make Mahao abandon his fight for the ABC to form an organisation that promotes pitiki. Perhaps a witch could confuse Lebohang Hlaele so much that he resigns as secretary general to become a goat herder in the mountains.

How about making Sam Rapapa spend all his days on earth playing moraba-raba?
With good witchcraft ’Mabatšoeneng Hlaele, Thabane’s daughter, could stop representing her father’s opponents and join Puseletso Seema’s band.
With a little muti the Feselady, who Muckraker thinks is unfairly accused of causing chaos in the ABC, could be confused.
Instead of whispering into Uncle Tom’s ears, as she is accused of doing with zest, she could be made to join some stokvel that keeps her insanely busy.

Muckraker is not saying there are no witches in Lesotho. Rather, she is just saying they are novices thriving on threatening neighbours, relatives and friends with dead snakes.
They might know some little witchery trick here and there but they are largely neophytes.
Some are just fakes.
So far there are only two incidents that confirm that there are some pockets of witches in this country.
The first happened at a South Africa television station. A Lesotho witch blew his potion across the border and it flew into a newsroom in South Africa.
It influenced a journalist to horrible misspell Samonyane Ntsekele’s first name. Muckraker will not repeat the word but she can tell you that it involves laying the head on something, something, something….

To prove that the witchcraft wasn’t that strong Ntsekele called the station and asked them to correct the name.
If this was toxic witchcraft Ntsekele could have stormed the TV station and beat the reporters to a pulp. His political career would have instantly ended, much to the glee of his enemies.
The second incident of witchcraft happened last week.
Its victim was Health Minister Nkaku Kabi who was hit by a sudden bout of confusion.
The man announced that he was resigning as health minister to become a deputy secretary general of the ABC. Get this right. The man is itching to be a clerk in a dying party. Until today no one knows the real role of a deputy secretary general in the party.
It could just be a person who runs mundane errands in the party. More like carrying the secretary general’s briefcase, organizing the party’s choir, teaching supporters how to ululate or showing the leader the latest dance moves.
What is happening to Kabi is the real witchcraft. Joonna oe, Kabi o louoe! Ke mohlolo, sefela sa Ma-Roma.


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