In March 2024, a young boy in Alkaleri Local Government Area, Bauchi State, reportedly lost his eyesight after an attack linked to allegations of witchcraft.
The attack was reportedly linked to allegations of witchcraft. He was a child. He lost his sight. No one has been prosecuted in connection with the attack.
This was not an isolated incident. Witchcraft accusations have a long history in parts of Nigeria, predating colonial rule and surviving successive governments and legal reforms.
Who gets accused
Accounts from different parts of Nigeria show recurring patterns in the children who are accused of witchcraft.
Those most vulnerable to accusations can include orphans raised by relatives, children with physical disabilities, and children whose behaviour differs from that of their peers. Accusations can also emerge when families are dealing with severe hardship, illness, bereavement, or other forms of crisis.
In such circumstances, a child who appears different may become a convenient scapegoat for problems that families and communities struggle to explain.
A 2010 study reported that 85 percent of street-connected children surveyed in Akwa Ibom State had been accused of witchcraft. Earlier estimates suggested that as many as 15,000 children in Akwa Ibom and Cross River states had faced such accusations.
These accusations are not confined to the past. In 2024, Amnesty International documented cases of mob violence against people accused of witchcraft, including people who were beaten, tortured, or killed. The same year, a boy in Bauchi State reportedly lost his eyesight following an attack linked to allegations of witchcraft.
Where the accusation comes from
Beliefs about witchcraft in the region long predate colonial rule and the spread of Christianity and Islam. Early European accounts and colonial records indicate that accusations of witchcraft and associated abuses were present in Africa before the 19th century. Accusations of witchcraft were used to justify severe physical punishments and social exclusion in the early 19th century in both Nigeria and Ghana.
Colonial rule and the later growth of Pentecostal and prophetic Christianity did not create these beliefs, but in some contexts religious institutions and leaders helped legitimise or intensify witchcraft accusations against children.
Churches, especially those belonging to the Pentecostal and prophetic movement, play an important role in the legitimisation of fears related to witchcraft, and in particular, child witches. When a pastor or other religious leader identifies a child as a witch, the accusation can acquire institutional authority and become harder for families and communities to question. In some documented cases, religious leaders have also demanded payment for deliverance or exorcism services, creating a financial incentive around the accusation.
In Northern Nigeria, similar accusations can also involve traditional or religious figures who attribute a family’s suffering to supernatural causes and, in some cases, direct suspicion toward a child. The institution may differ, but the consequences for the child can be just as severe.
Humanitarian organisations have reported persistent witchcraft accusations against children, particularly in communities facing severe social and economic pressures. Poverty, conflict, illness and bereavement can make children vulnerable to being blamed for misfortune.
That last sentence is the key. Witchcraft accusations do not come from nowhere. They can emerge in communities under severe economic and social stress including poverty, illness and bereavement where supernatural explanations may be used to make sense of misfortune.
What the law says and does not do
Nigeria’s Criminal Code contains offences relating to witchcraft and juju, including falsely representing oneself as a witch or accusing or threatening to accuse another person of being a witch. It also prohibits certain forms of unlawful trial by ordeal and the use of juju in specified circumstances.
Yet enforcement remains weak. Although Nigerian law prohibits witchcraft accusations, prosecutions and convictions are rare, and authorities have reportedly struggled to investigate such cases effectively, particularly in rural areas.
In February 2025, Bauchi State Chief Judge Justice Rabi Talatu Umar expressed concern over the growing number of witchcraft-related cases during a review of awaiting-trial cases at Jama’are Maximum Correctional Centre. She stated that witchcraft cases are difficult to prove and often rely on confession, remarking that “if you are not a witch, you cannot identify as one.”
Human rights advocate Leo Igwe responded immediately. He called the Chief Judge to order, drawing attention to how her statement was not in sync with the law and could confuse people and reinforce witch beliefs and imputations. He clarified that Nigerian law does not criminalise witchcraft itself but instead prohibits accusations, urging the judiciary to rely on evidence-based reasoning and reject superstition to uphold justice and human rights.
The remarks raised a difficult question: what happens when a senior judicial officer speaks about witchcraft in terms that may reinforce the belief that witches can be identified or that accusations can be proved through confession?
The connection is difficult to ignore: in the same state, in the same year, a child reportedly lost his eyesight after an attack that some community members linked to witchcraft beliefs.
A Humanist reading of what is happening
From a Humanist perspective, witchcraft accusations can be understood as a consequence of identifiable social, economic and institutional conditions — and those conditions can be changed.
The first condition is the lack of access to reliable explanations and services. When families have limited access to healthcare, education and accurate information, supernatural explanations can become more influential when people face illness, loss or other misfortune. The accusation fills a gap. Closing that gap with better healthcare, education and access to information can reduce the conditions in which such accusations take hold.
The second condition is the presence of authority figures who can legitimise an accusation. When a pastor, mallam or other religious or traditional figure identifies a child as a witch, the accusation can gain credibility within the family or community. Nigerian law prohibits witchcraft accusations and related acts, yet prosecutions and convictions remain rare. The problem is therefore not simply the existence of legal rules, but their enforcement.
The third condition is poverty and social stress. Economic hardship and misfortune can make children vulnerable to being blamed for problems they did not cause. A family facing the loss of income, illness or bereavement may search for an explanation for what has happened. Strengthening livelihoods, social protection and access to essential services can reduce some of the pressures that make such accusations more likely.
None of these solutions requires agreement on matters of faith. They require evidence, effective institutions and the political will to protect children.
What needs to happen
The law exists. It needs to be enforced actually enforced, not acknowledged in court statements and then ignored when a child is being beaten in a village outside the state capital.
The judiciary also needs to be clear. Judicial officers should make it explicit that witchcraft accusations cannot substitute for evidence, and that allegations must be assessed according to the law and admissible evidence. Judicial training on evidence-based standards would help ensure that such cases are handled consistently and protect accused people from wrongful prosecution
Community education needs to happen in Hausa and other local languages, through the mosques, markets, schools and community networks where people already gather. Families who accept witchcraft accusations are not necessarily acting out of cruelty; many may be responding to fear, grief, misinformation or economic hardship. Effective education should work with communities rather than simply lecture them.
And the children who have already been accused need more than immediate protection. They need legal assistance, access to education, psychological and social support, and a safe path back into their families or communities where possible. Some end up on the streets, where they face further risks, including exploitation and abuse. The accusation does not necessarily end when the violence stops. It can follow a child long after the original accusation.
A child born into a family under stress, in a community with limited access to healthcare, education and social support, and with a physical or behavioural difference that sets them apart, can become an easy target for accusations of witchcraft. In such cases, the child is not guilty. The failure lies in the systems and beliefs that allow an accusation to become a sentence.
That is not fate. It is a policy failure. And policy failures can be fixed.
