Mystical Beliefs on the Pitch: Football, Superstition and Witchcraft In Cameroon

By Boris Esono Nwenfor

It is August 25 and the Buea Municipal Stadium is full. The final of the Na We We Buea Urban Sports Jamboree is underway. Accompanying the organizers are two men; one dressed in a red gown, with a leaf in his mouth and carrying a pot with smoke emanating from it. You would think it is a traditional rite about to be performed, but no, they are supporters of an inter-quarter team, Long Street FC.

Football, the beautiful game, is adored by millions around the world, and Cameroon is no exception. In the Central African nation, football is more than just a game; it is a near-religious experience that unites people from all walks of life.

However, beneath the tactics, skills, thrilling goals and roaring stadiums, there is a less-discussed but deeply ingrained aspect of the game in Cameroon; a world steeped in mysticism, where superstitions and witchcraft practices play a pivotal role in shaping the mindset of players, coaches, and fans alike.

Whether it’s a pre-game ritual, a whispered incantation, or the sprinkling of salt on the pitch, the mystical side of football in Cameroon is a hidden yet powerful force in shaping the mindset of players, coaches, and fans alike.

For decades, stories of witchcraft influencing football matches have circulated within the country. From local village matches to elite competitions, players and teams often turn to spiritual rituals in hopes of gaining a supernatural edge over their opponents.

I have seen players and even the coaching staff throw salt in the pitch during games in the regional championship, right to the Elite level. To some, it is a normal practice. In some cases, these rituals are believed to bring luck, protect players from injuries, or even influence the outcome of the game. But does it work? Those who believe in it will answer in the affirmative, while those who don't, will say no.

For some, these practices are an essential part of football tradition in Cameroon. "It’s not just about skill; it’s about being mentally and spiritually prepared," says Emmanuel, a football enthusiast from Yaoundé. "When you step onto the field, you want to feel protected, and for many, that protection comes from the spiritual realm."

A Tradition of Mysticism

In many parts of Africa, football is more than just a sport; it is a cultural phenomenon, intricately woven into the fabric of daily life. In Cameroon, belief in the supernatural is a common element in society, and the football world is no different. Many clubs, players, and fans believe that unseen forces, manipulated through “juju” (a term for magic or witchcraft), can affect match results.

"You bring happiness or luck with talismans or gris-gris," said Pierre Mbas, a director at Diambars Academy in Dakar, referring to the amulets worn by some players. "But it's not luck as the word's perceived. Yes, oftentimes there are fetish-type objects. But it's like when a Western player embraces his cross before entering onto the pitch"—in other words, a more spiritual practice.

The idea, Mbas said, is “to bring all their force and energy to realize a good game.” In Senegal, he observed, “some players believe enormously in spirits.” The medium for these exchanges is usually a holy man; those who believe and partake in cultural practices to improve their soccer game consult regularly with their marabouts.

The turn of the 21st century has seen the Confederation of African Football (CAF) make a concerted effort to stop attempted instances of juju at football games. “We are no more willing to see witch doctors on the pitch than cannibals at the concession stands,” read a 2008 statement from CAF, which explained that juju feeds into harmful stereotypes of Africa as a wild and backwards continent.

The line between superstition and strategy is blurred

For many players, the line between superstition and strategy is blurred. Coaches are not immune to such practices either. Some instruct players to avoid certain numbers or directions when entering the pitch, believing that bad luck could befall them otherwise.

Fans, too, play a significant role in perpetuating superstitions in Cameroonian football. For many supporters, matches are not only battles of skill and strategy but also spiritual contests. It is not uncommon for fans to carry charms, burn incense, or offer prayers to protect their team or curse the opposition.

On match days, it is not unusual to see groups of fans gathered outside stadiums, performing rituals with the hope of securing victory. These acts of devotion and belief add another layer of intensity to the already passionate atmosphere of football in Cameroon and across the African continent.

Is witchcraft truly influencing the outcome of matches?

You would think that those who are involved in the practice will end up winning the game or claiming the title. However, not everyone is convinced of the efficacy of these mystical practices. Some, particularly those trained abroad, have pushed back against the belief in witchcraft, arguing that it undermines the focus on physical fitness, tactical awareness, and discipline.

Before the second leg of the quarterfinals of the 2022 Confederation of African Football [CAF] Champions League, between Simba SC of Tanzania and hosts Orlando Pirates of South Africa, an incident sparked a widespread furore on social media.

“Superstitions are superstitions,” said Dipo Faloyin, journalist and author of the book Africa is not a country. “The belief that something beyond sporting ability can intercede is universal, whether it’s through your chosen deity or your grandfather’s lucky scarf; though I do think we can draw the line on placing curses on your sporting enemy”.

During the customary pre-match pitch inspection, the visiting Tanzanians huddled around the centre circle. Clad in their crimson kits, the group drew the attention of fans in the stadium when they set fire to a paper in what seemed to be a ritual practice. After the match, Simba's coach at the time, Pablo Franco Martin, who was largely hired because of his time as Julien Lopetegui's assistant at Real Madrid, distanced himself from the "rituals" conducted by his players.

"This is something, from where I'm coming from [Spain], it's impossible to see. I'm not going to say that I like it, but to be honest, to burn something I think it's not going to help anyone. It's just a matter of superstition." Simba would end up being eliminated in penalty shootouts against Pirates, the eventual finalists of the competition. A few weeks later, the Spanish coach was fired.

Despite the criticism, belief in the supernatural persists. For many, football is a metaphor for life itself, a constant battle between forces seen and unseen. The pitch becomes a sacred space where physical prowess meets spiritual conviction, and where success is as much about one’s alignment with mystical forces as it is about tactical brilliance.