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‘The children are not safe here’: the Nigerian couple fighting infanticide

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When I first read the article presented below and published by the Guardian, entitled ‘The children are not safe here’, about a Nigerian couple – Olusola and Chinwe Stevens – fighting infanticide in their own home country, I remembered an earlier article describing this courageous couple and their admirable work. In 2018, to be precise on May 9, 2018, I published a post entitled ‘Nigerian couple working to eliminate infanticide in Nigeria‘, on two Christian missionaries, Steven Olusola Ajayi and his wife Chinwe who in 2004 had opened a shelter for so-called ‘evil children’, the Vine Heritage Home.

Without any doubt, this is the same couple and the same home presented in the 2026 Guardian article below. The 2018 article on the missionary couple was originally published on a website called ‘This Is Africa’. It was an opinion-article. Unfortunately, the exact title is missing. lIn 2018 I had juist started the present site on ritual killings, superstition, witchcraft, infanticide and human rights, and – with hindsight – at that time there was still lack of a systematic presentation.

Unfortunately, the original 2018 article no longer exists on he internet. This is precisely the reason why I have opted for the actual approach to copy-paste articles selected for my postings (together with my comments), as I had this experience before. See the section Why publish this site?

Infanticide is a crime, caused by ignorance and superstition. Nigeria is certainly not the only African country where systematic infanticide exists, i.e. the systematic killing of small children, babies. I regularly read about infanticide in other countries where sometimes desperate mothers kill their newborns. But the shelter created by Olusola and Chinwe Stevens, VIne Heritage, is for other babies whose life is threatened: new born babies who are considered ‘evil’ children, who are believed to be bad omens. Babies with disabilities, albino babies, twins, are suspected to bring curses and bad luck. Hence… they are killed, buried alive, or ‘simply’ disappear.

I express my deep respect to the Stevens couple and am convinced that their work is not in vain and that it will ultimately contribute to the eradication of a terrible crime that has existed for too long.
(webmaster FVDK).

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‘The children are not safe here’: the Nigerian couple fighting infanticide

Triplets Paul, Pauline and Paulina at the Vine Heritage Home Foundation, Gwagwalada, aged six months in July 2025. Photograph: Adesegun Adeokun/The Guardian

Published: February 5, 2026
By: Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani – The Guardian

In a few isolated communities in central Nigeria, some babies are believed to be bad omens. Olusola and Chinwe Stevens run a thriving home for babies at risk. But what happens when the families want them back?

Esther Stevens’ life nearly ended as soon as it began. She was born in 2007, in a village on the outskirts of Abuja, Nigeria’s capital city. Her mother died giving birth to her, and in the eyes of some villagers, that meant the baby was cursed. According to tradition, there was only one way to deal with such a child. The villagers tied the newborn to her mother’s lifeless body and prepared to bury them together.

When word reached a Nigerian missionary living in the community, she rushed to the burial site and pleaded for the baby’s life. After the villagers and relatives refused, she appealed to the traditional priest who had been called on to perform the rite. “Finally, the priest agreed and said, let them give her the evil child and see what the child will become,” Esther said. “The child, that’s me.”

The missionary took Esther to a children’s home in Abuja run by a Christian couple, Olusola and Chinwe Stevens, who brought her up as their own. Today, Esther is 18, tall, with a broad smile. She laughs easily and has a quick sense of humour.

In Nigeria, children are widely regarded as gifts from God or the spirit world, but according to some traditional belief systems, certain children were once thought to bring misfortune. Children born with albinism, visible deformities or disabilities were said to bring curses, or to be omens sent from ancestors or deities. In parts of southern Nigeria, particularly among the Igbo, twins and triplets were feared. Although these beliefs have largely faded, in isolated pockets of the country, they persist. In some of these communities, says the human rights activist Leo Igwe, the death of the mother in childbirth is believed to be the fault of the child.

The couple who run the children’s home where Esther grew up have been confronting these practices since 1996. Sent by the Christian Missionary Foundation to Abuja, the Stevenses discovered that some children were still being killed: poisoned, abandoned to starve or buried alive. In 2004, they created the Vine Heritage Home Foundation, a refuge for vulnerable children. Twenty years later, they provide a home for more than 200 children.

When Nigeria moved its capital from Lagos to Abuja in 1976, the new site was presented by the government as a neutral location, symbolically distant from centres of ethnic and regional tensions. But less than 40 miles away from this gleaming modern capital, with its wide boulevards and high-rise buildings, are communities that become nearly impassable in the rainy season. Many of these communities depend largely on subsistence farming, and the few healthcare facilities are poorly equipped and understaffed. According to Olusola, 75% of the children living in Vine Heritage are there because their mothers died in childbirth. (Nigeria is “the most dangerous country in the world to give birth”, according to UN data from 2023, which shows that one in every 100 women dies during childbirth or shortly after, many from postpartum haemorrhage.)

After their shocking discovery, the Stevenses began going around the communities, begging the families to hand over to them any of the “cursed” children rather than kill them. Then they began to speak with other local missionaries, asking them to spread the word that they were willing to take in any child deemed evil.

One of their contacts, missionary Andrew Tonak, told me that Chinwe is one of the most open-hearted people he has met, a mother and leader whose counsel, generosity and instinct to give have touched countless lives. Tonak is 61, and has lived in Kaida village, about 40 miles west of Abuja, since 2000. He recalled visiting women who had just given birth to twins. On his next visit, he would often be told, “The children are no more. They died.” Over the years, he says he has rescued 20 children from the village and neighbouring communities.

By the time some of the children now at Vine Heritage were rescued, they were already weakened by poisoning or severe malnutrition. Most required urgent medical attention. But increasingly, communities are becoming aware of the Stevenses’ work and now bring newborns to them directly, before harm can come to them.

Olusola said: “On their own, they come asking, ‘Please, where is that house where they keep the children?’ And then they bring them.”

Today, Vine Heritage is home to more than 200 children, from newborn to young adults. The oldest, Godiya, is 21 and has been at Vine Heritage since she was a baby. The newest arrival before my visit, a baby born on 27 May 2025, has been fighting for her life in a hospital crib since the day she was brought to the home.

About four years ago, Vine Heritage moved from a cramped facility that was originally designed to accommodate 55 children, to a much larger compound in Gwagwalada, built with funding from the EU in partnership with global charity ActionAid. The home has 18 dedicated staff working in shifts to provide round-the-clock care for the babies and toddlers. In a spacious hall, everyone gathers for morning prayers, group meetings and TV time. (Like any home full of children, there’s a constant battle for control of the remote.)

As I followed Olusola on a tour of the neatly laid-out grounds, he moved in a sprightly fashion, his greying beard framing a warm smile. At the youngest children’s dormitory, a chorus rang out: “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” They are not allowed out unaccompanied, and their small faces were pressed against the windows.

Esther Stevens, 18, who has been living at the home since birth. Photograph: Adesegun Adeokun/The Guardian

The multiple-birth siblings all have names that sound alike: Victor and Victoria, Mabel and Bethel, Zion and Zipporah. Among the youngest residents are triplets named Paul, Pauline and Paulina. Their parents arrived at the home one morning about six months ago, cradling the newborns in their arms. “I asked, ‘Why did you bring them?’ They said, ‘We don’t want them to die,’” Olusola recalled. The parents have visited once since then. They love their children, but fear that if the babies remained in their village, they would be killed.

Esther is clearly a favourite among the younger children. They love to follow her around and clamber on to her back, and as she and I chatted, they hovered close by. Esther knew nothing of her true origins or how she had come to live in the house until she was 14. She had been among the first children to arrive, joining the household in 2007 when there were only nine or 10 others. Olusola and Chinwe have one biological child, Praise, now 24 and studying at university. In those early years, Esther assumed she was also their biological daughter. As more children joined over time, she believed she was simply growing up in an orphanage run by her own parents. All the children bear the surname Stevens. “I knew it was an orphanage home, but I thought I was their real child. I look like mummy,” she said, and she does share some resemblance to Chinwe, with the same complexion.

Esther’s illusion was shattered when members of her biological family unexpectedly arrived at the home. At the time, the missionary who had rescued her as a newborn was preparing to leave the community. Before departing, she contacted Esther’s biological family to ask if they wanted to see where she had taken their child, knowing that once she left, they might never have the chance. “My grandmother came from the village and said she wanted to see me,” Esther recalled. “She wanted to see if I was still alive. When she told my father I was alive, he came to see with his own eyes.”

To prepare her for the meeting, Olusola sat her down and told her the truth about her past. “I was more than shocked,” she said quietly. “I felt sad. I felt bad.” Wanting to know more, Esther asked for her file. She read it cover to cover. What hurt most was discovering that her family had never come for her in all the 14 years she had been there. “Finding out about my parents’ true identity … It was just … I shed tears because they didn’t even care.”

Kaida, a village in Gwagwalada, is the closest community to Abuja’s city centre where there is evidence that infanticide may still sometimes take place. There are no tarred roads to the village, and the route is rough and bumpy, but it is better connected than most. There is a patchy phone signal here.

In Kaida, I met Abubakar Auta, a father of 13 and a husband to two wives. His twins Eric and Erica were sent to Vine Heritage about seven years ago. Like almost every adult in Kaida, Abubakar and his wife, Amina, farm for a living. To supplement their income, Amina digs sand from the river to sell to builders. She arrived to meet me straight from her work, dripping wet, sand clinging to her bare feet. Of her husband’s 13 children, seven are hers. Abubakar said he sent the twins away to “save their mother from suffering”. He believed they would not be safe in Kaida. Speaking to me in Hausa through a interpreter, he explained, “If I had left my children here, people would keep their eyes on them, and that would make them a target.” (Eric later died at the children’s home after falling ill.)

Kaida village has solar power, which provides a few hours of electricity each day for its two clinics: one government-run, the other operated by missionaries trained in community health. The government facility stands silent and empty. Locals say its staff are rarely present. The missionary clinic, by contrast, is alive with activity.

While I was there, a community health worker tended to a woman whose young grandson had a toe injury, the wound still raw and red. The woman had told me earlier on, in her home, that she had previously given birth to three sets of twins. All of them died within months. “They just fell sick,” she said. “In a short time, they were dead.”

Olusola Stevens with some of the children at Vine Heritage Home in Gwagwalada, July 2025.Photograph: Adesegun Adeokun/The Guardian

Her eldest child in his early 20s, sitting nearby, looked up and interrupted. “It was an evil hand that killed them,” he said, his tone defiant. At his words, his mother fell silent and turned her face aside, making it clear she wanted no part in that line of conversation.

The village head described the killing of children as belonging to “a time when people did not know these children were human beings”. He repeatedly used the phrase “in those days” to explain that their “eyes are now open” and such killings no longer happen. (He confirmed that the practice continued until at least a little more than 10 years ago, and that his “those days” referred to the years before then. Lakai has served as village head for the past 26 years.)

Community members are reluctant to speak openly, whether out of fear of stigma, distrust of outsiders, or the sensitivity of exposing cultural taboos. What I was able to piece together from these guarded, euphemistic conversations suggests that decisions involved a mix of family elders and traditional religious leaders. Leo Igwe, the human rights activist, acknowledged the role of patriarchy in situations where women surrender their babies to die. In 2019, ActionAid ran a survey in 57 villages around Abuja in which 16% of male respondents openly expressed support for the practice.

The shroud of secrecy has made it hard to tackle these beliefs. When I contacted various government officials, each one said they had never heard of such practices. Infanticide is against the law, but enforcement is hampered by secrecy and denial. Arinze Orakwue worked for nearly 20 years for the state body responsible for rescuing vulnerable children. From the early 2000s, he visited many communities where infanticide is practised, meeting with traditional chiefs and local leaders in an effort to change entrenched beliefs. “Many of them are living in denial. They tell you that it used to happen in their community a long time ago but it doesn’t happen any more.”

As more children were brought to their home, the Stevenses realised the scale of the problem. In 2013, when they decided to speak publicly about infanticide, the Federal Capital Territory government summoned them, accusing them of spreading falsehoods and damaging Nigeria’s image, just to attract attention and donations. Yet this scepticism faded after officials were shown clear evidence. The government eventually commissioned the couple to run awareness campaigns in the affected communities. They have built new partnerships, most notably with ActionAid. “The greatest problem is denial,” said Andrew Mamedu, ActionAid’s Nigeria head. “The community will insist, ‘Oh, there’s nothing like that.’ But when you go there, you see the evidence. You see the altars to the dead twins. Sometimes, the parents can’t account for their children. They are pregnant and before you know it, they’ve given birth and the baby is gone.”

ActionAid’s approach to the problem was patient, practical and deliberately indirect. Staff set up committees in each community – made up of men and women, young people, traditional rulers and religious leaders – and framed their aim as community development. “We don’t start with infanticide because they would just drive us away,” Mamedu said. The teams began by focusing on livelihoods, education, hygiene and access to healthcare, and only then moved on to tackling infanticide, under the broader banner of maternal and child health. Committee members acted as local advocates. One of their most effective tools was radio, still the most widespread and trusted source of news in northern Nigeria.

Chinwe Stevens at home.Photograph: Adesegun Adeokun/The Guardian

The strategy produced some measurable gains. In two communities ActionAid’s advocacy helped secure government investment in health centres. In four communities, the killings gradually stopped. Parents who had handed over children returned to the home to ask for them back. New local “champions” began to emerge, ordinary people willing to speak up. Still, the effort had its limits. Resistance from influential elders persisted, and when funds ran short in 2022, much of the work was left unfinished.

The Stevenses continue to work closely with missionaries stationed across the area. But not all rescues come through Christian networks. In Godiya’s case, it was a Muslim cleric who stepped in. “The Islamic preacher went to the community to preach and make converts, just like I do,” Olusola recalled. “He saw a child strapped to the dead body of her mother. They were preparing the grave. He asked, ‘Please, this child, what happened?’ They told him she was an evil child, and that their culture was to bury such children with their mothers. He said, ‘Can you permit me? Let me call my pastor friend so he can come and pick up the child.’ So he called me, and we went to the community and took her.”

When the Stevenses first established the Vine Heritage Home, their vision was simple: to raise the rescued children as their own and, once they were older, return them to their communities so they could become agents of change in the very places that had once rejected them. In recent years, 36 children have been returned to their families. In each case, the families themselves came asking for the children. But reintegration is rarely smooth. For one thing, many of these rural communities speak local languages understood by few outsiders.

When Esther visited her family in Dako village for the first time in December 2021, she met her siblings: two older brothers, two older sisters, and a younger sister. She was the only child from her mother, who had been the last of her father’s three wives. Two of her siblings were already married with children. They were glad to see her, but communication was difficult. “I couldn’t talk with them because they speak Basa,” she said. Only her elder brother could speak English, because he was in school.

The contrast in education was stark. When Esther told them she was in her third year of junior secondary school, they thought she was lying; most of the people her age in the village were still in primary school.

At Vine Heritage, every child goes to school. Of the current residents, 182 are enrolled, from primary and secondary pupils to university students like Godiya, who is studying sociology at Nasarawa State University, just across the border from Abuja. Godiya dreams of a career that comes with a uniform – any one will do. Esther has just finished secondary school and hopes to begin university later this year to study law. For many like her, returning to their villages would probably end those dreams.

Sometimes, a compromise is possible. Fifteen-year-old Mabel and Bethel spend their school holidays in Kaida village with their family, then come back to the home once classes resume. Their family first came to reclaim them when they were 10 years old. “I was happy, but I was not happy,” Bethel said. “I was happy that I had seen the place where they gave birth to me, but I was not happy to leave here,” she added. “Whenever I go there, nobody disturbs me, but I always want to come back.”

Beyond communication difficulties, the adjustment to rural life can be harsh. Children accustomed to running water, electricity and regular meals must fetch water from streams, adapt to harder living conditions, and endure the curiosity or suspicion of villagers.

The Stevenses usually wait until they consider the children old enough to understand before telling them how they came to the home. When Godiya turned 17, in 2021, her people came looking for her. “At first I said I was not going to see them because for how many years they did not come,” she recalled.

Gloria, 11, playing with other children at Vine Heritage Home.Photograph: Adesegun Adeokun/The Guardian

“It took us two hours to convince her,” Olusola said. “I pleaded with her, telling her that their coming was a sign of progress.”

Since then, Godiya has stayed in touch with her family, but she only made her first trip back in January 2025. Without proper roads, the only way to reach Bari village was by motorbike. Hours after leaving Gwagwalada, she finally arrived exhausted, and the entire village gathered to stare. “Everybody was just looking at me,” she said. “I didn’t understand the language and the journey was stressful. They were speaking, but I didn’t understand them.”

The youngest of nine children, Godiya was welcomed with joy by her older sisters, who embraced her through tears. They urged her to come back for Christmas, but she was dismayed by the lack of electricity or phone network, and currently has no plans to return.

Esther’s experience in Dako was similar. “When I went to the village, everybody came to see me,” she said. Some of the stares unsettled her. “The community was scary. The way some villagers look at you, as if there’s some evil thought in their mind. I was so scared because I didn’t want anything to happen to me.”

Sometimes, the danger is real. Four years ago, eight-year-old Monday was sent back to his village at his grandfather’s request. Monday’s mother had died giving birth to him. The family had recently converted to Christianity, and after Monday’s father remarried, the grandfather felt it was the right time to bring home the boy once deemed “evil”. But just two weeks later, Monday was returned to Vine Heritage. The elders in the village had been resentful, asking the grandfather how they should feel when others had killed their own children but he had brought his back alive. Fearing for the boy’s safety, the grandfather decided it was better for him to leave. “He called me and said, ‘I am returning your child to you,’” Olusola said.

When a family asks for their child back, the Stevenses try to find out if it is safe for them to return. But they cannot prevent every tragedy. About eight years ago, the Stevenses visited a mother who had recently given birth to an albino girl. She assured them that attitudes towards albinos in her community had changed in recent years, so they did not insist on bringing the new baby to the home. “I was asking questions: has anybody threatened you or the child? She said no,” Olusola recalled. Shortly afterwards, word reached him that the baby had died without explanation. He has never been able to discover what happened.

The years have taken their toll on Chinwe and Olusola. About two years ago, Chinwe’s health began to deteriorate, and Olusola urged her to move into a small flat nearby so she could focus on recovery. During school holidays, two of the oldest children, including Godiya, take turns staying with her, helping with everyday needs, while the others visit in small groups from time to time.

Chinwe has had a stroke, developed high blood pressure and undergoes regular dialysis. I visited her in the modest flat where she lives alone, after spending her entire married life surrounded by dozens of children. She spoke candidly about how she poured herself into caring for others while neglecting her own health. Apart from the small income the Stevens received as missionaries, they earned nothing, relying entirely on donations to care for the children. Now, Chinwe herself depends on donations to cover her medical expenses.

On the walls hang photographs of her in a graduation gown, taken when she earned her doctorate in agriculture from the prestigious University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Another, from two years ago on her 59th birthday, shows her nearly three times her current, frail size. Pointing to one, she said softly, “Look at me then, and look at me now.” She managed a wry laugh.

Olusola said the home had its future leaders among the older children, those willing to step up and already involved in administration and management. Some, he explained, had made it clear that even after graduating from university, they intended to remain committed to running the home. Whenever he was away for meetings, they kept things running. Unless visitors specifically asked to see him, the children received guests, handled day-to-day operations, managed money and accounts, and reported back to him. “The only thing they can’t do is sign cheques,” he said. “I have already told them that in the next 10 years, I will sit back and the home will be in their hands.”

Most donations to Vine Heritage come from individuals. On the day I visited, a donated cow stood in the compound. But with Nigeria’s soaring inflation, now at its highest in nearly three decades, many longtime supporters have cut back or stopped entirely. “Sometimes, when you phone people to remind them of their promise to pay school fees, they get irritated,” Olusola said. “Because of Nigeria’s economy, some of the people that used to support the home before are now finding it difficult.”

Mamedu, at ActionAid, believes the issue is more complex. The challenge, he says, lies in how the home is run. It is neither a formal organisation nor a business. There is no business plan, governance structure, or consistent paperwork like a typical NGO or charity would have. It is registered as a foster home. There are no clear systems for tracking how funds are spent or how accounts are managed.

“We supported the home to try to institutionalise the process,” Mamedu said. “We trained the staff on hygiene, childcare, some record keeping, even partner management. From the start, we told Olusola, let’s have a central way to account for every fund that comes in, so that when we say we don’t have money, it’s backed by proper records. But he tells us that this is not an orphanage; it’s a home.”

ActionAid still supports the home, providing monthly funds for food and covering urgent medical bills for the children. But the future is uncertain. The Stevens’ family-first approach has undoubtedly saved lives and nurtured emotional bonds among the children, Mamedu believes. But the original vision of reintegrating children into their communities appears to have faltered, which means the home keeps growing. Olusola admits that he once believed those communities would be more developed by the time the children grew up. He had expected more progress.

I asked Olusola if he would have done things differently. “When God asks you to do something you only obey,” he said. “It never occurred to me that we would ever have more than 20 children. After saving seven children, we had a pause of about one-and-a-half years, and we thought that would be all. We made our decision that whatever we gave to our biological child, we would give the rest.” But after the seven-year hiatus, Olusola recalled, “the floodgates opened, and more children started coming”.

Source: ‘The children are not safe here’: the Nigerian couple fighting infanticide

Making Witch Hunting History: Dr. Leo Igwe’s Fight for Justice

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Nigerian human rights activist and lawyer Dr. Leo Igwo needs no introduction on these pages.

Dr. Leo Igwe and I have more in common than a birthday (26 July); we both abhor human rights violations, mob justice, superstition, ritual murders, impunity and other forms of injustice.

I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Dr. Leo Igwe on his relentless fight against superstition, witch hunting and ritual murders, and encourage him to continue to do so.
(webmaster FVDK)

Dr. Leo Igwe

Nigeria – Making Witch Hunting History: Dr. Leo Igwe’s Fight for Justice

Published: September 26, 2025
By: Scott Douglas Jacobsen – The Good Men Project

How can Nigeria’s legal system be strengthened to effectively prosecute witchcraft-related abuses?

Dr. Leo Igwe is a Nigerian human rights advocate, scholar, and founder of the Advocacy for Alleged Witches (AfAW). With decades of activism, Igwe has dedicated his career to defending those falsely accused of witchcraft, combating superstition, and advancing secular human rights. He has partnered with international and national organizations to confront harmful practices rooted in fear and cultural beliefs, particularly targeting women, children, and people with disabilities. A vocal critic of religious extremism and media sensationalism, Igwe promotes critical thinking, education, and legal reform. His work stands at the intersection of grassroots advocacy, public enlightenment, and global humanism.

In this interview with Scott Douglas Jacobsen, Igwe intensified campaigns across Nigeria in 2025 to defend victims of witchcraft accusations. Through unprecedented collaborations with organizations such as the International Federation of Women Lawyers, the National Human Rights Commission, and disability rights groups, AfAW has expanded its outreach to over 15 states. Initiatives include memorial events, legal interventions, media engagement, and direct support for victims. Despite cultural and religious resistance, Igwe emphasizes that witchcraft is a myth, urging communities to shift from fear-driven persecution to rights-based advocacy. His work highlights growing momentum, though challenges remain entrenched.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Today, we are here with the prolific activist, Dr. Leo Igwe of Nigeria, founder of the Advocacy for Alleged Witches (AfAW). Our primary focus is advocacy for people accused of witchcraft. A lot has happened this year, and we can dive into some specific events because I have notes. In your view, what have been the most significant achievements so far?

Dr. Leo Igwe: One of the most significant developments this year is that we have organized more meetings and awareness programs than in any previous year since 2020. Even as I speak with you, I am in Port Harcourt, in Rivers State, where we are organizing an awareness event—an event to remember victims of witch hunts and ritual attacks. It is the first of its kind in the country and in the history of our campaign: victims are being remembered rather than demonized.

These victims are not being pre-judged as guilty or condemned. There has also been considerable interest from groups wanting to partner with us. We have seen unprecedented requests and welcoming gestures from different organizations and civil society groups. For instance, the International Federation of Women Lawyers (FIDA)—several state chapters—has reached out to co-organize events. Historically, their focus has been on women and children, and accusations of witchcraft were not central; that is changing as AfAW’s work gains traction.

We have also engaged with the National Human Rights Commission of Nigeria (NHRC). Nigeria has 36 states and the Federal Capital Territory (Abuja), and some NHRC state offices are reaching out to co-organize events like the one we are holding on Saturday. They are ready to collaborate to highlight these abuses.

The Down Syndrome Foundation Nigeria has also contacted us to partner. They work on disability issues. Unfortunately, people with disabilities are often stigmatized or labelled as “possessed,” which leads to ostracism and harmful so-called “spiritual” interventions.

A recent example that drew national attention was a reported case in Calabar in February 2025, where a pastor allegedly killed his daughter, a child with Down syndrome, claiming she could transform into a snake. Cases like this show how superstition and stigma can turn deadly, and we are working with disability advocates to confront these beliefs and protect vulnerable families.

In terms of people who are accused, demonized, or stigmatized—whether because of disability or because of problems within the community—this has been a significant focus this year. We have now organized or collaborated in organizing events in over 15 states across Nigeria. By next week, we are planning an event in Niger State, in the north of the country. That will be the first event we have organized there, and we hope to use the opportunity to strengthen our partnerships with local groups and build a more robust mechanism for defending the accused.

That said, these collaborations do not come without challenges. For instance, in Niger State, we are partnering with women’s rights and children’s rights groups. They told us they would prefer not to have accused persons present, because their presence might trigger confrontation with accusers or with those who suspect them of being witches. This has been difficult, but we see it as a step toward educating people that everyone should stand as an advocate for the accused.

Many people still hold on to those beliefs and fears, even while showing some sympathy for the accused. However, sympathy is not enough. The accused are innocent. The law is on their side. So we want to find ways to reduce fear and anxiety and encourage communities to join us in openly and categorically supporting those accused of witchcraft.

Our meetings are not always characterized by unanimous support for advocacy on behalf of alleged witches. Sometimes, participants insist that witchcraft oppression is real. For example, at a recent meeting in Owerri, a pastor argued that witchcraft affliction must be addressed.

This is the contradiction we face. People say they oppose torture, killing, and persecution, but at the same time, they continue to insist witches exist. For us at AfAW, this is contradictory. If anyone claims people really are witches, then the burden is on them to prove it—to vindicate or exonerate those accused, rather than subject them to persecution.

Religion and culture also reinforce these challenges. Christianity, Islam, and Nollywood movies all perpetuate the belief that witchcraft and demonic possession are real. These institutions and cultural products continue to fuel the mindset that sustains witchcraft accusations.

In the churches and in the mosques, these harmful ideas are still being promoted. We are working to weaken the grip of these narratives on people’s minds and to chip away at what I call “witchcraft evangelism.” It does enormous damage and undermines our work. We also want people to recognize that Nollywood films and African movies are fiction, not fact.

The filmmakers reflect the myths and beliefs of society, but they are still telling stories, not recording reality. We want to help reorient society so that these movies are understood as cultural fiction. These are some of our successes, but also some of our challenges. Still, we see steady progress as more people begin to realize that something does not add up when it comes to witchcraft accusations. More groups are welcoming us and reaching out to cooperate, so that together we can address and dispel this phenomenon.

Jacobsen: Now, about specifics, in Owerri, Imo State, on September 2–3, we observed the International Day Against Witch Hunts. That was an event reaffirming material and psychosocial support. What was the big takeaway from that event this year?

Igwe: A lot. In Owerri, for the first time, we marched through the streets of the city, sharing flyers and speaking with people about the problem. We also visited the palace of the traditional ruler, Eze Clinton, who received us warmly and pledged his support to our campaign. That was an important milestone.

Another highlight was a presentation by our legal counsel, Mr. Okorie, on witchcraft accusations and the law. In Nigeria, accusing someone of witchcraft is a criminal offence. It is a form of criminal defamation, but most Nigerians are unaware of this—or if they are, they do not take it seriously, because their beliefs often outweigh what is written in the law. Mr. Okorie made it clear that even calling someone a witch can lead to prosecution. If this is done in a church or public gathering, the entire act is criminal.

He gave the example of a crusade organized in Imo State shortly after our event. The theme was “That Witch Must Die.” We reported it to the police, who summoned the pastor, but unfortunately did not prosecute him. Mr. Okorie explained to our participants that such gatherings are legally actionable, and anyone who participates in them could also be held liable. His legal perspective shocked many people, as they were unaware that the law was so clear on this matter.

We also had some victims from different communities share their experiences, which reinforced the urgency of our campaign.

We also heard from victims who recounted their stories and experiences. One woman in particular, Mrs. Regina, told us that after some people in her family died, she was forced to undergo a ritual. They bathed the corpse, washed the body, and gave her the water to drink as an “exoneration” ritual. She is one of the people we are supporting now, trying to provide her with all the necessary help to get back on her feet.

Another experience I had was visiting a street named after a victim of ritual killing, Ikechukwu Okoroho, who was murdered about 30 years ago. A street was named in his memory. I went to that street and to the scene where he was killed, according to reports. These are some of the key takeaways from the Owerri, Imo State event.

Jacobsen: There was also a case intervention in Ebonyi State on August 20, involving the banishment of Joseph Agwu from Unwuhu community. The case called on the state to prosecute the attackers, compensate the victim, and end the practice of banishment. Could you elaborate on that specific case?

Igwe: Yes, Joseph’s case is one of several in Ebonyi. He was accused of witchcraft and banished from his community. His property was destroyed, and he was forced to leave. We reached out to him, and he recounted his ordeal. We are appealing to the state authorities to step in and protect people like him.

Another successful intervention we made was in the case of Mr. Kingsley, who had also been accused. He was paraded through the streets, humiliated, and substances were poured over his body. When we got the information, we immediately contacted the police.

Thanks to that intervention, Kingsley is now back in his community. I met him recently, and he told me how happy and relieved he was. People now look at him with respect rather than the scorn he used to face. This was a real success story.

Of course, not all cases succeed. Sometimes incidents happen in rural communities where it is difficult for us to intervene. Accessing those areas can be dangerous—there are threats of beatings, mob attacks, or even killings. People in those communities often suspect that anyone investigating is there to help the police prosecute them. So yes, we have had some successes, but the challenges remain significant.

Jacobsen: There were also several roundtables. For example, in Ekiti State from August 19 to 21, there was a stakeholder roundtable aligned with the World Day Against Witch Hunts. There were also NHRC partnerships in Kano, Okoro, Ondo, and Yola, Adamawa. Across the year, there were several such meetings—on January 21, March 6, July 21, and August 19–21. What is the role of these roundtables, and what were the key takeaways from each?

Igwe: For the one we held in Yola early in the year, the big takeaway was that too often, when these cases are reported, nothing is done. They appear in the news and then disappear. Victims receive no help or support.

Since 2020, AfAW has been a game-changer. We step in on the side of the accused to support and empower them. In Yola, our message was clear: there is now an organization that stands for the accused. We introduced ourselves, explained what we do, and intervened in a specific case where a parent and his partner tortured a girl to death. The mother had been accused of witchcraft, and the children were said to have “inherited” it from her. The girl was tortured and died. We have been working hard to support the mother and her three surviving children, and to push for justice.

That was our first meeting in Yola, and like with many of these events, participants told us nobody else was doing what we are doing. We know why—few people have the conviction and understanding that we at AfAW bring. However, we made it clear there is now a place where the accused can seek support, and an organization keeping watch on these cases. That was our takeaway from Yola.

In Ondo, we also held an event and combined it with a radio program. A woman named Olaemi Ijogun attended after hearing us on the radio. She told us how she had been accused as a child and beaten. Her case was heartbreaking. She said that both she and her sister had been accused of being initiated into a coven when they were very young.

In Olaemi’s case, the accusations came from a relative who claimed to have seen her and her sister in a dream. The parents were told the girls were going to covens at night. As a result, they were not allowed to sleep. They were forced to kneel and raise their hands through the night because the parents believed that if they slept, they would travel spiritually to the coven. The girls were denied sleep for several nights.

The stigma followed Olaemi to school, where it negatively impacted her social life. She still breaks down when recounting the trauma, which she did at our event. She called on people to stop making accusations because they leave an indelible mark on the minds and psyches of children. Since then, she has been working with us to advocate against witchcraft accusations.

For instance, she joined us in Ekiti State during the World Day Against Witch Hunts event. There, we encountered a case where a 10-year-old girl accused her grandmother of initiating her into a coven and of spiritually murdering people. This accusation was made on the radio after a station invited the family to speak. As a result, the grandmother’s business collapsed, and she was ostracized; the community avoided her. We intervened to reassure her that she had no hand in such things.

The background is that the family’s youngest child, about two years old, had been sick since birth. The grandmother was blamed for the illness. When I interviewed the mother of the 10-year-old, she even told me that the grandmother had “taken away the intelligence” of the children, causing them to do poorly in school, and was also responsible for the family’s financial struggles. In other words, they blamed the grandmother for virtually every problem.

To address this, we provided the family with money to conduct a medical test on the child, so we can determine the real medical problem and treat it appropriately. This shows that we are not only holding events, but also taking practical steps to intervene. We extend solidarity by combining advocacy with direct support. We are helping the grandmother, the victim of the accusation, while also ensuring that the sick child receives medical treatment. These are some of the key outcomes from the Ekiti State event.

Jacobsen: How did the World Day Against Witch Hunts itself go?

Igwe: It was observed on August 10. That year it fell on a Sunday. In Nigeria, the best thing you can do on a Sunday is either go to church or stay at home. Suppose you organize anything else on that day. In that case, it is not likely to attract much participation—except for the few atheists and humanists in the country.

On August 10, the World Day Against Witch Hunts, I attended a church where the pastor regularly preaches against witch hunting. In our work, we identify religious leaders who speak out against these practices. It is not easy, of course, but we make every effort to find such churches. I was told about this one, contacted the pastor, and he confirmed that he preaches against witch hunting. So I went there to listen to his sermon. We also recorded it so that we could use it later to show other churches that this kind of preaching is possible and necessary.

It was a small church, with maybe 50 participants—tiny compared to the massive congregations you see in Nigeria, where tens or even hundreds of thousands gather. That probably explains why this church holds what you might call a minority position in the religious landscape. Still, that was where I spent the day.

Before and after August 10, we have continued organizing events in various states to remember victims of witch hunts and ritual attacks. It has gone well. People are coming out and saying, “At last, there is a space where we can feel vindicated, where we can share our stories in front of an audience that supports us, rather than seeing us as guilty.” That has been the spirit of these gatherings. In fact, we could not accommodate all the events in August, which is why some of them were pushed into September. For us at AfAW, the World Day Against Witch Hunts has not really ended. Our event this Saturday will conclude this year’s cycle of activities tied to that observance.

Jacobsen: Let us turn to the media side of things—ongoing public education, advocacy, op-eds, and briefings. Which news and opinion publications have been most effective in disseminating information about this campaign, the organization, and the harm caused by these superstitions?

Igwe: We have had coverage of our activities in several online and mainstream media outlets. Some journalists have even drawn our attention to cases in which we later intervened. Among Nigerian media organizations, I must mention Sahara Reporters, ThisDay, and The Eagle Online, which have been supportive.

We have also had coverage in other outlets, such as the Nigerian Tribune, Punch, and The Sun. Some of these online and print organizations have tried to highlight the work we are doing.

However, let me be clear—before now, media agencies have overwhelmingly been part of the problem. Their reporting on witchcraft accusations often reinforces the very narratives we are trying to dismantle. This is something I consistently point out to them during media interactions.

Many journalists still report accusations in sensational ways. They tell me the more spectacular, the better—for clicks and traffic. They call it “clickbait.” So, you see headlines like “Witch Crash-Lands” or “Bird-Woman Found in Village.” It is absolute nonsense, but it generates attention. Moreover, in their pursuit of attention, they misinform the public, mislead communities, and do real harm.

These reports are unprofessional and unethical. Journalism should be about reporting facts, and it should be balanced. Instead, in their quest for traffic, media houses end up endangering lives. For example, there was a radio program where a child accused her grandmother of initiating her into witchcraft. We intervened, and when we left, the station manager admitted to me, “Leo, it was this radio program that caused the problem.” He realized it had put an innocent woman in danger and destroyed her socially.

So yes, the media have been part of the problem. However, with the kind of engagement we are doing at the Advocacy for Alleged Witches (AfAW), some outlets are beginning to rethink. Some are realigning and realizing just how unprofessional and unethical their reporting has been. They are slowly starting to highlight our perspective. However, we still have a long way to go. Nigerian media organizations still thrive on sensationalism.

The media still thrives on sensational headlines—stories designed to attract attention and appeal to primitive superstitions that people find exciting. Slowly and steadily, some outlets are beginning to support what we are doing. However, there is still a tremendous amount of work ahead.

Another challenge is this: while media agencies are quick to publish sensational, false, and misleading reports about witchcraft—often for free—when we want to put forward our perspective, they demand large sums of money. Both online and broadcast outlets do this.

For example, if we want to appear on television, they charge between $500 and $1,000 just for the appearance. Additionally, you may need to travel, pay for flights, and cover accommodation costs. This makes enlightenment and advocacy extremely expensive, even though it is precisely what the country needs to counter these harmful narratives.

Jacobsen: Do you have any final points on that last topic?

Igwe: Yes, while a few media organizations are beginning to report witchcraft accusations more responsibly—rather than treating witchcraft itself as a fact or as a “certified” part of African culture—the progress is limited. Some outlets are starting to understand AfAW’s position and provide more balance. However, we are still far from the cultural shift we need. That kind of change will not happen through one report or even one event. It requires intensive public education and sustained enlightenment.

Unfortunately, in this area, many media stations have not been supportive. They are quick to publish sensational stories, like “an elderly woman turned into a bird” or “a witch crash-landed on her way to a meeting,” as was recently reported in Delta State. These kinds of stories get free publicity.

However, when AfAW attempts to purchase airtime to educate the public, we encounter significant costs. Media outlets charge us considerable amounts of money, making enlightenment campaigns very expensive. The imbalance is stark: free space for superstition, but costly barriers for rational education.

Meanwhile, churches and religious organizations that actively promote witchcraft narratives are given abundant airtime. They advertise events with themes like “That Witch Must Die” or “Exposing the Mysteries of Witchcraft.” These programs receive free promotion, which reinforces harmful beliefs.

By contrast, when we present our position—saying plainly that witchcraft is a myth—we are given little space, asked to pay heavily, and sometimes even put under pressure during media interviews. The pressure is on us to “prove” that something imaginary does not exist, instead of challenging those who claim it does.

The media landscape is still heavily skewed toward reinforcing witchcraft beliefs. We have not yet reached the paradigm shift where media establishments themselves start questioning and dismantling these narratives. That remains the challenge before us.

The cultural shift we need will only come when the media itself transforms. Until then, they will not welcome our programs in the way they should. Even when we pay for airtime, they often schedule us in the middle of the day, when people are busy at work. They refuse to give us prime slots in the evening or late at night—times when churches preach about witchcraft to audiences at home around the dinner table.

Without media on our side, we cannot fully succeed in making witch-hunting history in this region. That is why this work is so critical.

Jacobsen: There was a memorial action on August 29, connected to victims of ritual killings. You visited a hotel site linked to one of those incidents, to connect memory with today’s anti–witch hunt work. Could you explain what happened at that hotel, and how many victims are we talking about?

Igwe: I visited because of the incident that happened there in September 1996, almost 29 years ago. What happened then is still happening today. For example, earlier this year, in February 2025, in Lagos, a young man murdered his girlfriend, used an axe to break her head, and drained her blood into a calabash, supposedly for rituals. That case mirrors what happened at the Otokoto Hotel in 1996.

At Otokoto, the victim was an 11-year-old boy who sold peanuts on the streets. A hotel gardener lured him inside, gave him a drugged drink, and when the boy became unconscious, he cut off his head. The man was apprehended while attempting to deliver the head to someone who had ordered it for ritual purposes.

The news caused a massive uproar. There were riots in the city, and people began burning the houses of those suspected of being involved.

The people labelled as “ritualists,” in other words, those involved in ritual syndicates or racketeering, were the focus of that uproar. My visit to the Otokoto Hotel aimed to remind the people of Imo State that this practice has been ongoing for far too long and must come to an end.

The government seized the hotel property, and today it is used by the police. Not far from the police station, there is a street named after the young boy who was murdered. Those responsible were eventually arrested, and some received life imprisonment while others were sentenced to death.

I visited that property to show that the same problem we saw nearly three decades ago is still with us today—only in new forms. Now, people kill their girlfriends, relatives, or acquaintances for what they call organ harvesting. They believe specific organs can be used in rituals to produce wealth, success, or power.

The narratives of religion, miracles, magic, and supernatural intervention fuel these beliefs. All of them reinforce the idea that ritual killings can deliver prosperity. What we are confronting is a Herculean task—a complex, many-headed monster of superstition and fear. Only the flame of reason, compassion, critical thinking, and skeptical inquiry can provide hope for society and for the victims.

Jacobsen: Thank you for the opportunity and your time, Leo. 

Source: Making Witch Hunting History: Dr. Leo Igwe’s Fight for Justice

Ritual Killings in Nigeria: Imperative For Urgent Legislative Reform

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The following plea speaks for itself.
(webmaster FVDK)

Ritual Killings: Imperative For Urgent Legislative Reform

Published: January 18, 2025
By: Charles Ude – The Whistler, Nigeria

Charles Ude, Esq, is an Abuja Based Legal practitioner

Ritual killings in Nigeria are a grave concern that transcends mere criminality, reflecting a deep-seated cultural malady that requires immediate legislative action. The recent brutal murder of a young woman in Kogi State serves as a timely reminder of the urgency for a decisive and multifaceted approach to combat this abhorrent practice. As the nation mourns the victims and stands in solidarity with their families, it is imperative to recognize that an effective legal framework, bolstered by education and cultural intervention, is crucial in the fight against ritual killing.

The Socio-Cultural Context

The persistence of ritual killings in Nigeria is intricately linked to widespread beliefs in the supernatural, which infiltrate various socio-economic strata irrespective of educational background. These beliefs often manifest in attempts to harness spiritual powers for personal gain, including financial prosperity or social advancement. Such practices are often cloaked in traditional rituals, rendering them difficult to combat solely through legal measures. Addressing the root causes—misplaced belief systems and ignorance—is as crucial as enforcing legal prohibitions against these crimes.

Recent Cases and Judicial Precedents

While it is vital to acknowledge the role of the judiciary in addressing ritual killings, recent court cases such as Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Igbokwe (2022) and Nwankwo v. State (2023) illustrates both the commitment and the limitations of the current legal framework. These cases have underscored the severity of ritual killings and the necessity for stronger penalties. However, the infrequency of successful prosecution and the perceived leniency of existing sentences highlight the urgent need for reforms. The judiciary must be empowered to impose harsher consequences for such heinous crimes to act as a deterrent.

Notable Case Examples

Adamawa Hotels Ordered To Install CCTV Cameras After Beheading Of Lady
(see below)
Police Reject N1m Bribe, Arrest ‘Serial Killer, Ritualist’ In Ogun
(see below)

Numerous high-profile cases illustrate the alarming implications of ritual killings, offering a grim snapshot of the societal dangers at play. The Sofiat Kehinde case, where four teenagers were arrested for a murder intended for a money-making ritual, starkly demonstrates the youthful exploitation rife in these crimes. Similarly, the Otokoto killings of 1996 sparked national outrage due to the abduction and murder of children for their body parts. The Osun Osogbo and Ibadan cases further reveal a troubling pattern of ritualistic violence, emphasizing the urgent need for preventive measures and robust legislation.

Implications for Law and Order

The impact of ritual killings on Nigeria’s legal and social fabric is profound, posing significant challenges to law enforcement and community safety. To effectively combat this menace, we advocate for the following legislative reforms:

  1. Uniform and Tougher Legislation: It is imperative to enact comprehensive laws that explicitly define ritual killings as grave offenses. Such legislation should be accompanied by stringent penalties that reflect the severity of the crime, serving both as punishment and deterrent.
  2. Education and Awareness: Integrating educational initiatives into community awareness programs is essential. These initiatives should aim to debunk myths surrounding ritualistic practices and promote understanding of the laws against them. Community engagement can play a critical role in changing attitudes and reducing the incidence of such practices over time.

In conclusion, the urgent nature of ritual killings in Nigeria cannot be overstated. The recent tragic events illustrate an inescapable need for decisive legislative reform. Enhancing legal frameworks and fostering community awareness are both critical steps in eradicating this menace. It is time for all stakeholders—government officials, the judiciary, civil society, and communities—to unite in a concerted effort to dismantle the socio-cultural foundations that support ritual killings, ensuring the safety and dignity of all citizens.

Disclaimer:
This article is entirely the opinion of the writer and does not represent the views of The Whistler.

Source: Ritual Killings: Imperative For Urgent Legislative Reform

Nigeria: villagers protest ritual killings in Imo State 

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On Wednesday, January 11, the people of Arondizuogu in Imo State, In Nigeria’s delta region, took to the streets to protest over a number of unexplained killings in their communities. The killings were described as ‘strange happenings’ and linked to politics. One does not need much imagination to associate these killings with ritualistic murders.

Imo State is located in the country’s south-east, is the third smallest in area of Nigeria’s 36 states and has a population of about 6 – 7 million people. It is not the first time the people in Imo State are confronted with deadly ritualistic activities in their communities. In 2009, a large group of women from Ndiakunwata and Arondizuogu, Ideato North, a Local Government Area of Imo State, stormed the state capital Owerri to stage a peaceful protest over a wave of ritual killings in their area. See the second article presented below for more details.

The third article below describes another horrible ritual murder which occurred in 2009. The mentioning of Otokoto in the 2009 article refers to the 1996 Otokoto riots which happened in the aftermath of another ritual murder in Imo State in that year (of an 11-year-old schoolboy boy, Anthony Ikechukwu Okoronkwo, though the uprising was also caused by the rampant corruption in the state).
Readers are warned that the described murder cases contain graphic details.

Finally, for shortness sake I refer to my previous postings for more ritual murder cases in Imo State. To access these postings, click on ‘African countries’ in the dropdown menu and select: Nigeria (webmaster FVDK).

Villagers protest ritual killings, burning of vehicles in Imo State

Published: January 11, 2023
By: Chinonso Alozie – Vanguard, Nigeria

Elderly men, women and Youths of Arondizugo, Ideato North Local Government Area of Imo state, on Wednesday continued to protest over the alleged killings and burning of vehicles by suspected hoodlums in their communities.

The youths were seen on a video that went viral on social media, they marched around the Ideato North communities demanding no further delay for government to intervene in their situation.

At the time of filing this report, some of the villagers who could not give reasons for the attacks described some of the killings as “strange happenings” and linked to politics.

The latest was the alleged killing of a young man and a tricycle rider whose names were withheld. It happened Tuesday night at Ndiejezie Izuogu in Ideato’s local government area of Imo State.

They lamented the burning of about three vehicles one of the vehicle’s plate numbers was given as a YAB-225DY Range rover vehicle.

One of the villagers who preferred not to mention his name said: “My brother these killings have been happening for some time. We have cried for help nothing is happening. Even sometime last year, our royal fathers from Arondizugo came out and protested. I saw you were among the journalists that they addressed and pleaded for government intervention because this is too much.

“We want the government to come and save us. We don’t need much delay again. We are in pain now. We want an end to these killings and burning of vehicles.

“Many of roads are not safe now. this is bad we want help. let us end this killings. We are tired. Why the killings? why these troubles. We want government to end it.”

However, at the time of filing this report, the elders in the various villages were still having strategic meetings to see how to end the reported killings and burning of vehicles.

When the Imo state Police Public Relations Officer, PPRO, Micheal Abattam, was contacted he was yet to respond.

Source: Villagers protest killings, burning of vehicles in Imo

Also:

Women protest ritual killings in Imo State

Published: November 12, 2009
By: Chidi Nkwopara – Vanguard, Nigeria

OWERRI – Scores of women from Ndiakunwata, Arondizuogu, Ideato North Local Government Area of Imo State, stormed Owerri to stage a peaceful protest over recent ritual killings in their area.

Vanguard gathered that unidentified ritualists killed an octogenarian, Mrs. Beatrice Asoanya, and her granddaughter, Miss Chinaza Okereke, while they were sleeping in their home.

The women displayed placards with varying inscriptions, which included “Our lives are in serious danger”, “We are no longer safe in our community”, “We need government’s intervention” and “Ohakim save us”.

Speaking to newsmen amidst sobs, Lady Patricia Okereke, the mother of the slain Chinaza, said the suspected ritualists cut off the breast of her mother, Mrs. Asoanya, and drained her blood.

Lady Okereke said the women were angered that the suspected killer of the two citizens have been released, adding that the released suspects had since been moved to Abuja by his masters.

Okereke wondered why her daughter and mother would be murdered in such a gruesome manner, while the alleged culprits were left off the hook because of alleged influence of those backing him.

I demand that the perpetrators be brought to face the full weight of the law with a view to serving as a deterrence to others, she pleaded.

Source: Women protest ritual killings in Imo

Also:

Otokoto again in Imo! Girl, 18, beheaded for rituals

Published: November 5, 2009 (headlines: August 19, 2009)
By: Chidi Nkwopara – Nairaland, Nigeria

Residents of Owerri were Wednesday morning treated to a morbid spectacle as the police command paraded four suspects and the decomposing head of an 18-year old Chinwe Doris Perpetua Obieri, who was murdered for ritual purposes.

The bizarre scene, which was a replica of the infamous Otokoto saga of September 1996, had the prime suspect, 24-year old Emeka Uwakwe, from Ndiakunwata, Arondizuogu, Ideato North local government area of the state, clutching the decapitated head of his girl friend, Chinwe.

Speaking to newsmen, the Commissioner of Police, Mr. Aloy Okorie, gave the names of the other suspects as Chigamezu Anyaoha from Orodo, Mbaitoli local council area, Anthony Obioha from Lude, Ahiazu Mbaise local government area, and the medicine man, Damian Joseph from Obot Akara, Akwa Ibom State.

Mr. Okorie gave a graphic account of how the sordid crime was committed and the efforts made by the state police command to apprehend the suspects in far away Lagos State.

“You can see we have a case of murder for ritual murder. What happened was that on Sunday, July 26, 2009, the young lady whose head you are seeing (pointing at the decapitated head of Chinwe) left her Akokwa home, Ideato North local government area of Imo State. You can see the head without the body.

Late Chinwe before her death
“The young man, Emeka Uwakwe, is the boy friend of this girl and he came all the way from Lagos and lured her to his house in the village. He murdered the girl, cut off her head for ritual purpose and dumped the headless body in a bush. Apparently, the girl had told her parents that she was going to visit her maternal uncle in another village.

“As at 7.04pm on that same Sunday, she called her parents and informed them she was already in her maternal uncle’s compound and they believed her. Later, her parents made a call to her and the call was not pulling through up till the next morning and by Monday when it was obvious that she was not coming back, they made a report to the police that their daughter was missing.

“The names of the parents are Mr. Nicholas and Mrs. Theresa Obieri from Umuezeala, Umueziama Kindred in Akokwa. It was after they made the report to the police that some vigilante people on the same date, came around and said they saw a headless body in the bush. The police invited the girl’s parents and they identified the headless body to be that of their daughter.

“It was at that point that the police swung into action and started making investigations. From information, we got to know that she had a boy friend who is resident in Lagos and who was seen around home within that period. So, we went to Lagos and we were able to arrest Emeka Uwakwe. You can see him now with the head of the slain girl (pointing at Emeka).

“When we now got him, he made a confession that Mr. Damian Joseph of Obot Akara in Akwa Ibom State, though he is based in Lagos also, was the one who made the charm with which, if he got the head of this girl, mix it with the charm and bury it, money will start flowing, he will start plucking money as if he was plucking fruits from the tree. That was exactly what the man did. He (Emeka) got the concoction, mixed it with the head and buried it in his room.

“We also went for the Native Doctor and got him. Meanwhile, Emeka made a confession too that it was his friends, Chigaemezu Anyaoha and Anthony Obioha, that introduced him to the Native Doctor and that he was capable of making medicine for money. They also confirmed that they had done such a medicine before with human scrotum. We do not know whether it their own scrotum or other people’s scrotum. We will surely find out in due.

“You can see the pretty 18-year old girl (displaying her photograph). I am sure if you had seen this girl when she was alive, you will weep. You will certainly weep because I have never seen a thing like that in my life. I just imagine my own daughter of that age being slaughtered for ritual purposes.

“Well, in an era where we talking about people going to live in the moon, that is the age we are in, 21st century, and people are still being fooled that they can use human head to make money. It is very unfortunate.

“Emeka Uwakwe was arrested on Wednesday last week (August 12, 2009) and when he gave us the information on how he got about the whole show, our men left for Lagos on Sunday and we were able to arrest both the Native Doctor and the other two boys. The next line of action is that they will pay the price prescribed by the laws of the land. We all know the price for somebody who has committed murder. He will pay with his own life. There is no duplicate for life. If he had the courage to kill somebody, he should also be prepared to face the consequence. He should be in a position to say if he killed her with a knife or first strangulated her before he cut off the neck.

“It is very clear that the girl deceived her parents. My advice is simple. I have a daughter of that age. I know how we monitor her. Most times, especially in this era, if she has to go out, we must let go with somebody because you never can tell. That age is a critical period in the training of children. Parents should monitor their daughters closely. It is easy to make contacts in this GSM era. I am sure that if the parents had raised alarm that very night they did not see her, may be things would have come out differently.

Source: Otokoto Again In Imo! Girl, 18, Beheaded For Rituals

Zambia: Cannibals in Matero? Suspected ritual killer arrested in Lusaka

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Unfortunately, Zambia is no exception. Ritual killing of human beings – children, adults – takes place in Zambia too. I’ve been following events in Zambia since quite some time. Many suspected cases of ritual killings as well as real cases have been reported over the years. Without a shadow of a doubt the tip of the iceberg – as in many other countries. Many ritual murders are not discovered, or not reported as such. One of the cases in my archives dates back to 1996. An excerpt: “(…) Early this year, another spate of mob justice hit the country, especially Lusaka and the tourist capital Livingstone, after children started disappearing. Some of the children were later found, horribly mutilated. These murders were believed to be ritual killings. Angry mobs again took their justice, beating to death some suspects who the police say were innocent. This ended only when the police arrested and had several men convicted.(…)”

More in the near future. Read here (below) one of the more recent cases. Matero lies a few miles west of Lusaka, Zambia’s capital.
Readers are warned, the details are gruesome.

Ritual killings, superstition, mob justice, absence of rule of law, ignorance, they’re all interrelated. Let’s hope that the Zambian government continues on the good road taken, as shown by the appearance in Parliament and the frank statements of Home Affairs Minister Stephen Kampyongo.
(webmaster FVDK)

Home Affairs Minister Stephen Kampyongo: “Between October 21, last year, and February 24, this year, seven suspected ritual killings were reported to Police (…)”

CANNIBALS IN MATERO?…POLICE RECOVER COOKED HUMAN HEART, LIVER AFTER ARRESTING A SUSPECTED RITUAL KILLER IN LUSAKA

Published on March 2, 2018
By CHILA NAMAIKO and JANE MWANSA
Times of Zambia

A COOKED human heart and liver have been recovered by police in Lusaka after arresting a suspected mastermind in the spate of suspected ritualistic killings of seven people in Matero, Parliament heard yesterday.

Home Affairs Minister Stephen Kampyongo said some of the cooked body parts were eaten by the suspect, who also shared with his unsuspecting neighbours.
Mr Kampyongo informed the House that the suspect also led the officers to the recovery of ears and several private parts, which had now been submitted to the forensic laboratory for examination. Updating the House in a ministerial statement on recent suspected ritual killings, he said all the victims of the murders were found with their chests ripped open and internal parts missing.
He said the security situation in Matero was generally stable until October, 21, last year, when the first suspected ritual killing was reported.
Between that date and February 24, this year, seven suspected ritual killings were reported to Police, with the victims in all the incidences had been males aged between 25 and 40 years. “By 24th February 2018, the Zambia Police Service investigation unit had with the help of the suspect recovered suspected cooked human heart and liver, “he said.

Mr Kampyongo said police visited and processed the crime scene, and preliminary findings suggested that the people behind the gruesome murders used the same method of killing.
For instance, at every crime scene, a concrete block was found. The officers believe the same block was one of the weapons used.
“The ripping open of the chest, cutting off of the ears and the private parts also appear to have been conducted in a similar manner. The preliminary findings suggest that these murders have been carried out by the same group,” he said.
Mr Kampyongo warned that false beliefs of human body parts helping one to accumulate wealth had no place in Zambia, and the law would catch up with the perpetrators.

To bring the perpetrators of such barbaric crimes, the House heard that police had instituted investigations, which had so far resulted in the arrest of one suspect.
He said the suspect, believed to be the master-mind, was assisting the officers with further investigations and would appear in court soon.
Police had taken a number of measures to enhance security in Matero such as foot patrol and motorised patrols, increased presence in high-density townships, and sensitisation to members of the community on personal security. He assured the public of police protection.

Meanwhile, residents of Kitwe woke up to a rude shock yesterday after a human head was found along the banks of the Kafue River.
When contacted for a comment, Copperbelt Commissioner of Police Charity Katanga said police were waiting for the family of the deceased to come and identify the head. And scores of residents living near the river thronged the scene to have a glimpse of the bizarre finding, which was later picked up by police.

Source: Times of Zambia, March 2, 2018