As someone who has just completed a Theology degree and is trying to pursue a career in the world of football, I have often wondered whether there are any links between these two wholly opposite constructs. On the surface it seems incomprehensible that footie can be related in any way to sacred texts and mystical powers. However, I think I have finally bridged the gap: the presence of witchcraft in African football. Oh yes…
In Africa Juju, Otumakpo and witchcraft all relate to spiritual practices that do not always conform to 'major' world religions, but instead embed themselves deep in local indigenous histories- albeit alongside Christian and Islamic beliefs.
Whilst many of these practices are often deemed futile from a 'Western' perspective, juju, or witchcraft, has been a constant in African football right from the get-go.
These practices were much more apparent in years gone by and, in modern times, they tend to be performed under the veil of secrecy, owing to increasing concern from authorities that juju is spoiling the integrity of African football.
Nigerian fans have brought live 'lucky' chickens to fixtures over the years as good luck charms
Such performance-enhancing procedures involve swathes of prayers and rituals designed to gain the upper hand over one's opponent. By way of example, whilst in most leagues across the globe we see players continuously doing the sign of the cross as they step foot on the pitch, often at an alarmingly robotic rate, or Muslim players enacting ‘dua’, in Africa, in addition to these gestures, we may also see someone placing a special amulet by the pitch for good fortune in an attempt to mitigate earthly restraints.
Some teams- namely Burkina Faso - have even been known to have witch doctors as part of their back room staff, to aid with any special requirements players might need. This particular witch doctor is a far cry from the Gary-esque, gym-crazy physiotherapists we’re used to seeing in the European game.
This doctor, who has 28 years of experience in his field and is a self-proclaimed ‘special supporter’ for Burkina Faso, dons painted cricket gloves (?), four branded hats, massive festival sunglasses and, to top it all off, a painted sidekick. A bizarre sight to the un-trained eye, but certainly not uncommon.
Burkina Faso's witch doctor, or 'special fan', during the 2013 African Cup of Nations
Whilst the Confederation of African Football (CAF) has made efforts, in the public eye at least, to reduce these unorthodox practices, they remain ubiquitous across the African game.
Owing to constant political and social instability across much of Africa, and the relative infancy of many of Africa’s domestic leagues, football has not developed in the same way it has on other continents. Kasi Flava, the South-African street style of football, perhaps best embodies this.
Having been expelled from competing in international fixtures in the 1960s by FIFA, football developed behind closed doors in South Africa for a time. The result? A popular, authentic, street style of football that fans rejoice over, centred around the blatant mockery of one’s opponent. Flare, exuberance and dance are preferred over mundane tactics and skills, where micky-taking one’s opponent is kindred to a goal. Both bizarre and eccentric, it’s a great watch and exemplifies the peculiarities that often accompanies African football.
Like the authenticity of Kasi Flava, witchcraft exists across African football owing to similar histories of isolation and unique cultural heritages fusing with the popular sport.
The most well-known example of witchcraft exhibited in African football came in the 2016 Rwandan Premier League tie between Mukura Victory and Rayon Sports, during which a player was seen performing a mid-game ritual.
Moussa Camara, whilst his side were 1-0 down, dashed over to the opposing goal to place a witch-like object by the post, resulting in the opposing goalkeeper chasing him off the pitch and throwing the trinket away. Remarkably, or unremarkably, as the game restarted, it was Camara who netted…
Rayon Sports' Moussa Camara- the Guinean centre forward accused of 'casting a spell' on the opposition's goal mouth during a 2016 match.
It is not only sub-Saharan Africa where such practices are commonplace. In Egypt, witchcraft manifests itself through animal sacrifices. Old school, Abrahamic and messy, but great for positive results, the Egyptian Football Association reportedly sacrificed a cow before the 2008 AFCON. And yes, they did go on to win it.
Another admissible example came when the somewhat unsuspecting André Ayew (I say unsuspecting because of his prolonged exposure to the Premier League) sprinkled white powder onto the pitch before Ghana’s 2015 AFCON final against Ivory Coast. This juju, or charmed powder, however, did not have its intended affect as Ivory Coast secured a victory and won the tournament. This saw the Ayew brothers attract widespread criticism for their antics.
André Ayew- the Ghanaian captain and former West Ham man
For now, debates about whether witchcraft in football should be tolerated or shown the door continue. Some - primarily the football governing bodies- see it as eroding the professionalism of the African game and clinging onto a history that places too much emphasis on mystical superstition.
The Rwandese Football Association (FERWAFA), after the Moussa Camara escapade, enacted a 100,000 Rwandan Francs fine for anyone seen to be taking part in witchcraft, despite previously claiming laws for unproven influences weren’t necessary as such powers don't exist. Try telling Moussa that.
By contrast, others see it as fair game and claim that failing to allow it would deny the freedom of worship. Western footballers use frequent Toradol pain injections, various hydrotherapy techniques and, my favourite, ‘daylight glasses’ to enhance on-pitch performance. The use of these absurd daylight glasses, to me, seem far more ridiculous than sprinkling white powder on the pitch before a game. Whilst slaughtering a cow may get you in a spot of bother in the European leagues, I see no harm with most of these private ritualistic antics.
Wolves players wearing daylight glasses- designed to avoid fatigue in the run up to night matches.
Although there is little difference in intent between making the sign of the cross and performing juju, the latter carries a negative stigma which many outside Africa are not used to and therefore remain suspicious of.
It ultimately comes down to perception and how we understand unfamiliar practices surrounding the game. If football in Africa wants to capitalise on the merits of modern football it needs to, rightly or wrongly, abandon this stigma. In order to realise its ambition of being more 'professional', then, African football may have to ditch these practices once and for all.
Even so, in an era where the Premier League, and its sister leagues, are becoming increasingly sterile, I think getting rid of these quirks would be a grave shame and seek to contradict the all-accepting nature we are so frequently told football possesses.
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