The Women They Called Witches in Malawi

At 83 years old, Nasitima Chikadwala still remembers the fear that consumed her every day. Inside a small grass-thatched hut in rural Lilongwe, she endured years of humiliation and violence after relatives accused her of practising witchcraft because she could not bear children. The abuse intensified after her husband died in a road accident, leaving her isolated and vulnerable. She was beaten by her own relatives, who accused her of being a witch and bringing bad luck to the family.

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'Every day I was living in fear,' Nasitima told FairPlanet. 'The very children I had watched growing up were beating me, denying me food, and calling me a witch. It was a horrible situation.'

Nasitima's story reflects a wider crisis across Malawi, where older people, particularly women, continue to face brutal attacks, social exclusion, and killings linked to deeply rooted beliefs in witchcraft. Human rights organisations say the violence exposes the dangerous intersection of age discrimination, gender inequality, poverty, and weak legal protection.

Why Witchcraft Accusations Persist

Witchcraft accusations rarely emerge out of nowhere. In many societies, they serve a social function, even when that function is violent and destructive.

In parts of Malawi, as well as in other countries across the globe, belief in witchcraft remains deeply embedded in social life. For many people, witchcraft offers an explanation for tragic events such as sudden illness, infertility, death, or failed harvests. What is especially striking is who tends to become the target of these accusations: very often, elderly women. There are several reasons for this.

Patriarchal and age-related power structures play an important role. Older women — especially widows without male protection — are often seen as vulnerable. When a husband dies, land is inherited, or family conflicts emerge, witchcraft accusations can also become a means of controlling property, resources, or social influence. In that sense, accusations are not only driven by belief, but can also reflect material interests.

Social isolation further increases vulnerability. People who live alone, are childless, or are perceived as somehow different often become easy targets for collective fears and suspicions within a community. Historically, this is not unique to Malawi. European witch hunts, too, disproportionately targeted older, poor, and socially marginalised women.

A Hidden Human-Rights Crisis

Malawi's experience reflects a broader phenomenon documented across parts of Africa, including Zambia and Ghana, and beyond, including Latin America. Accusations of witchcraft have long shaped social tensions in various African countries, particularly in rural areas where traditional belief systems continue to coexist with formal state institutions and Christian religious practices. According to the Malawi Network of Older Persons' Organisations (MANEPO), a consortium of civil society organisations working on ageing issues in Malawi, nearly 300 older people were killed in the last ten years after being accused of practising witchcraft. Most victims were attacked by relatives or neighbours. This year alone, 11 older people have already been murdered.

Eight people were also killed in rural Chikwawa and Nsanje districts amid accusations that their private parts had disappeared. On 30 April 2026, three elderly people in Mchelera community in Mzimba District died after being subjected to what authorities described as a 'trial by ordeal'. The victims — Paul Mahobe, 78, Charles Kamanga, 78, and Styness Shaba, 71 — were allegedly forced to consume poisonous substances during a ritual conducted by a self-proclaimed witch hunter and facilitated by local leaders.

The killings shocked many but also reflected how widespread such beliefs remain in Malawi. According to an Afrobarometer survey, 74 per cent of Malawians say they strongly believe in the existence of witchcraft, while only 14 per cent reject such beliefs. The survey also found that belief in witchcraft cuts across age, education, and income levels, highlighting how deeply rooted these ideas remain in everyday social life.

Impunity and Lack of Protection

Malawi's Witchcraft Act was introduced under British colonial rule in 1911. But the law did not criminalise witchcraft itself. Instead, it targeted accusations, so-called witch-finders, and traditional practices such as ‘trial by ordeal,’ in which suspects were forced to undergo dangerous rituals intended to determine guilt or innocence. More than a century later, however, rights groups argue that it has become insufficient in protecting victims. Meanwhile, public pressure has grown to formally criminalise witchcraft itself. Human rights organisations, however, warn that such efforts risk legitimising accusations that are impossible to prove in court and could further fuel violence against vulnerable people.

Andrew Kavala, executive director of MANEPO, described the attacks on elderly people as both a human rights violation and a failure of public protection systems. He pointed out that weak investigations and limited protection mechanisms often leave survivors without support while allowing perpetrators to act with near impunity. Kavala said MANEPO is expanding community awareness programmes that challenge harmful beliefs.

'We are also working closely with traditional leaders, faith leaders, and local authorities to discourage mob justice and encourage communities to report threats early,' he told FairPlanet.

Despite these efforts, activists say accountability remains inconsistent, particularly in rural areas where local power structures and deeply rooted beliefs continue to shape public attitudes. In some communities, self-proclaimed witch hunters, known as Tsikamutandas or Gauras, still operate openly in places like Mashonaland, while elderly people accused of witchcraft are driven from their homes or subjected to violent 'cleansing' rituals.

In Malawi, witch hunters are locally known as sing'anga (traditional healers) or nchimi (prophets and seers).

One example is Voster Ngona, a well-known contemporary witch doctor based in Karonga, northern Malawi. He is known for using animal parts to 'sense' witches and claims to help communities by finding hidden charms to neutralise witchcraft powers.

'These attacks thrive where misinformation, fear, and impunity exist,' he said. 'No one should be attacked, displaced, or killed because of superstition.'

Colonial Laws and Enduring Beliefs

Scholars argue that Malawi's present-day violence linked to witchcraft accusations is deeply rooted in both precolonial belief systems and the country's colonial legal history. Professor Bryson Nkhoma from the Department of History and Heritage Studies at Mzuzu University explained that beliefs surrounding witchcraft long predate British rule and emerged as ways of explaining different forms of misfortune.

'Witchcraft was often associated with elderly people because they were seen as custodians of ancestral wisdom and spiritual power,' he told FairPlanet.

More than a century later, the consequences of the colonial-era legislation, the Witchcraft Act introduced in 1911, continue to shape tensions in Malawi. Critics like Human Rights Watch argue that the law created a legal contradiction that still fuels violence today: while many communities continue to believe witchcraft is real, the state officially denies its existence.

'Malawi remains a society deeply shaped by traditional beliefs,' Nkhoma said. 'Regardless of education or exposure, many people still believe in witchcraft.'

Human rights groups and legal scholars say this disconnect has undermined trust in formal institutions and, in some cases, encouraged communities to resort to mob justice outside the legal system. Debates over whether the law should be reformed or replaced remain controversial, with some warning that formally criminalising witchcraft could further legitimise persecution and deepen discrimination against vulnerable groups, especially elderly women.

Rebuilding Dignity from the Ground Up

In Dzama village on the outskirts of Lilongwe, 25-year-old Deborah Mbale is quietly building what many elderly women describe as a refuge. Using mostly personal resources and support from well-wishers, Mbale founded the Mai Mbambande Organisation — meaning 'Wonderful Mother' — to shelter and feed elderly women who have been abandoned or abused after witchcraft accusations.

The organisation supports more than 70 older women and men, including Nasitima. Inside modest shelters, the women gather daily to cook, share stories, and slowly rebuild a sense of belonging many thought they had lost forever.

Mbale said she was disturbed by how easily elderly people were discarded by their own families. 'My main aim is to make sure old people are respected because they are our parents,' she told FairPlanet.

Beyond providing food and shelter, the initiative also conducts outreach programmes in nearby villages to identify elderly people facing abuse or neglect. 'We have a programme where we identify older persons from surrounding villages and show them love again,' Mbale said.

Running the shelter remains difficult. It requires constant fundraising, farming, and donations from supporters. Still, Mbale says the work is necessary because many survivors have nowhere else to go.

Protecting the Vulnerable

The Ministry of Gender, Children, Disability and Social Welfare says it is intensifying awareness campaigns to educate communities about the Witchcraft Act and the rights of older people.

Ministry spokesperson Linda Lonjezo Moyo said authorities are warning communities against taking the law into their own hands. 'Our mission has been telling people that there is no witchcraft in the country,' Moyo told FairPlanet. 'People should understand this because perpetrators are prosecuted through the courts.'

But for many elderly people living in remote communities, protection often arrives too late. Human rights advocates say long-term solutions must include stronger social protection systems, community education, mental health support for survivors, and legal reforms that better safeguard vulnerable older people.

For women like Nasitima, however, survival itself has already become an act of resistance. After years of violence, she now spends her days surrounded by other elderly women who understand her pain. Sometimes they sing together. Sometimes they simply sit in silence. But for the first time in years, she no longer lives in fear.