Witchcraft accusations are very real. And very destructive.

I am not alone in my ignorance. Most of the people I’ve talked to about my experience visiting Kukuo—one of several camps for alleged witches in northern Ghana—reacted just about the same as I did: “There are still witchcraft accusations? That many? In the 21st century? Accusations that are taken seriously?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. And Yes.

In Ghana, these very real witchcraft accusations are founded on, what is to me, very shaky evidence. An accuser need only say they saw the person in a dream and that is enough for an accusation to be taken seriously. Later there might be a test where a chicken is slaughtered and the position the chicken takes when it dies reveals the truth or falsity of the accusations. Such trials are not mandatory and happen infrequently.

A witch’s hut in Kukuo.

Dream evidence is especially problematic because of malaria. Malaria is a huge problem in Ghana and in northern Ghana it is largely misunderstood. Many residents only know that an illness is occurring, not the cause. The illness is not associated with mosquitos at all. The illness is often attributed to witchcraft. Witchcraft accusations increase during malaria season. It does not help that a symptom of malaria is vivid dreams.

Women—they are almost always women—are in constant danger of being accused. Especially if they don’t have a man to speak for them. Especially if they cannot produce children, due to age or biology. Especially if they have a little economic power. In other words, if they don’t conform to the gender role Ghanaian society requires they conform to.

For example, if a woman, especially a widow or single woman, runs a successful business, she might choose to help her community by giving loans. I spoke to several alleged witches in Kukuo. Most of their accusers were people who owed them money. For me the interpretation is obvious. This person did not want to pay. It is easier to accuse and have the debt wiped out than find the money to make good on it. This is a personal grudge. But there is a broader issue.

Wealthy men, even single wealthy men, who lend money to members of their community are rarely, if ever, accused of witchcraft by their debtors. Why? Why are women vulnerable when similarly situated men are not? Because these single, successful women are threats to the system. Not only does the individual accuser benefit when their debt is wiped out, but the community status quo is preserved when the woman is banished and her business redistributed.

An accusation leading to banishment means leaving with only the clothes on one’s back. But it often also means beatings—beatings in the woman’s home community and in every community she encounters on her way to one of the refugee camps for alleged witches. The camps are safe places, but not easy ones. In the camps the women still struggle to acquire basic necessities. From Kukuo, water is several miles away. Many of the women are reliant on what food is donated to them or what they can find in fields after harvest. Their roofs leak when it rains so they cannot sleep. Most of these women are in their 70s or older.

Their existence is not widely known and the fact of their existence is unbelievable to many, but these camps are real. I have seen them. These are difficult places to live, but they are, at least, places to live. Alleged witches are regularly killed in Nigeria and other west African nations that do not have camps.

I encountered these camps as part of a humanist service trip called Pathfinders Project. As humanists, from our perspective, there is no supernatural power at play. For every evidence of witchcraft we encountered we saw a natural, not supernatural, explanation. Malaria, dysentery, common childbirth complications. For every accusation of witchcraft we saw human, not spiritual, motivations. Jealousy, greed, power.

We met many alleged witches in Kukuo. I do not believe I met a single witch.

I do not believe witchcraft is real. I do believe these people do. (I should point out that while every alleged witch we talked to denied her guilt, every one affirmed the existence of witchcraft.) I also believe that witchcraft allegations are often used as a pretext to advance despicable personal agendas.

These women need help. But how? Addressing the situation in the camps themselves is easy. Okay, not easy, but easier. Easier than addressing the underlying problem. Clean water is manageable with time, money, and helping hands. So are the food, shelter, and other challenges are challenges poor communities around the globe face. But addressing these issues does not nothing toward ending the need for these camps, which must be the ultimate goal.

As a devotee of interbelief dialogue and cooperation, I do not believe it is respectful to address this situation by attacking the belief in witchcraft. Not only is it not respectful, it’s not practical.

So, how does one address this human rights abuse without attacking the core beliefs that are, if not causing, perpetuating it?

Education would help. Education, about malaria, for example. In the capital, Accra, in southern Ghana, there are very few accusations. Yet, the belief in witchcraft is still widespread. The lack of accusations cannot completely be explained by an understanding of malaria, but I believe it must be part—a large part. Why don’t the residents of Accra levy witchcraft accusations when they fall ill with malaria? It’s not because they don’t believe in witchcraft. It’s because they recognize the symptoms and causes of malaria. There is an alternative explanation that makes more sense. Witchcraft activity is delegated to another realm and Accra’s women are safe. Safer.

The hardest interbelief moments are the ones where the beliefs of each side are directly at odds. In this case there is no talking around our differences. There is little common ground to stand on together. Yet, I utterly believe that a Ghanaian alleged witch and an American humanist can work together. And not only on the common ground problems, but on the difficult, belief influenced problems too. The problems are human problems and humans can work together to solve them.

But in Kukuo it’s not just a humanist and an alleged witch who can work together beyond beliefs. The mullah in Kukuo—whose beliefs do not align with the alleged witch or the humanist—is committed to closing the camp by eradicating the need for one. Here is an opportunity for true interbelief cooperation that can make a real difference in the lives of hundreds women, if not more. I am excited to see it come to fruition.

This was originally published at State of Formation.

After all my clothes were hanging to dry, I rinsed my sweat off in the shower.  I poured myself a glass of water from a 3.5 liter bottle or water that we keep stocked in the fridge.  Then I realized, again, the miracle that drinkable water is available from almost any tap in the United States.

Clean, drinkable water is only available from bottles on Isla Puná.  Bottles that are carried by boat from the mainland.  Bottles that are too expensive for many of the residents to afford.  On Puná, if you can’t afford bottled water, you probably can’t afford the fuel to boil the water you take from the contaminated wells either.  Ailments from contaminated water is one of the most pressing healthcare issues on the island.  That is why the Pathfinders  have come to Puná, to help provide drinkable water that is purified and filtered right here on Puná.

The most well known well in Puná. But it is surrounded by poorly constructed septic tanks and animal roam freely near the open top. Testing has showed high levels of bacterial contamination.

Our goal is drinkable water.  That can only be accomplished for the community by the community.  But we can help.

Two days ago I had a conversation on the street with a local shop owner about the clean water situation on Puná and what we, working with Water Ecuador,  were doing about it.  This shop owner had stopped me on the street before asking me about the water.  Unfortunately, my Spanish is not advanced enough to tell him more than the most basic facts about our scheme.  This time was different though.  This time I had someone with me who speaks much better Spanish than I.

After we explained the water center we are constructing, he asked me why I was here.  I understood this question in two ways.  One, why am I working on water?  Two, why am I in Puná working on water?  So I had two answers.

Why am I working on water?  Because water is life.  I know that is corny, but it is true.  Where I grew up in southern New Mexico.  We have a water problem too.  We have drinkable water coming from our taps, but we don’t have enough.  We are a desert in a decades long draught.  Our river is drying up and our water table is dropping.  As different as the issues are, I believe Puná’s water problem is New Mexico’s and New Mexico’s is Puná’s.  Water is water.  And water is finite.

Water is an issue that will unite us beyond our differences–locally and internationally.  I am working on water because water is a human issue.  And I am human.

In response, the shop owner gave me an adage: “Si uno no vive para servir, no sirve para vivir.” (“If you don’t live to serve, you don’t serve to live.”)  He gets it.

Why am I in Puná working on water?  Because I was invited to.  Simple as that.  When Pathfinders Project was being organized dozens of organizations around the world were contacted to see who would be interested in our help.  It was important that the proposed relationship was clear.  We were coming to help local organizations with local problems that they’ve identified.  We are helping hands, not saviors coming in with the “answers.”

We explained, we are not here with agenda.  Not a political agenda.  Not a religious one.  We are only here to help and connect with people.

“Who, then, will run the center after you leave?” the shop owner asked.

“You,” we said.  Well, you the community.  We are helping to build the water center, but it will take the community to make it work.  His excitement was apparent.  He believes in the power of community.  Change only happens at the community level.  Any bigger and there is too much politics.  Too many egos.  Too much bureaucracy.  Ok, these last ideas are my interpretation of what he means by community being the only level that has the power to effect change.  But I agree that communities working together are powerful.

In my conversations with other Puná citizens, it is clear that clean water is exciting.  The fact that the water is coming from and purified in Puná is more exciting.

That’s why this project is going to work.