The Midnight Exits: Witchcraft, Marital Strife, and the Eerie Shadows of Zimbabwe’s Night Flights
PENHALONGA — The traditional court of Chief Mutasa is no stranger to the complexities of human relationships, but the testimony heard this May afternoon was of a nature that chilled the air even in the warmth of the Zimbabwean sun. In a case that has gripped the local community, Edson Marima, a resident of Penhalonga, stood before the elders to lay bare a series of events that he believes can only be explained by the dark arts. His wife, Nhamoyevana Chirumiko, sat nearby, her face a mask of weary defiance as her husband detailed her nightly disappearances from their matrimonial bed.
The story, as Marima tells it, is one of a marriage derailed by the supernatural. It is a narrative that fits into a much larger, often disturbing pattern of witchcraft allegations that have surfaced across Zimbabwe over the decades — from “crash-landed” winnowing baskets in Harare to naked wanderers found in the early morning light of rural villages. These incidents, often dismissed by outsiders as folklore, remain a visceral part of the social fabric here, where the line between the physical and the spiritual is frequently blurred.
The Midnight Routine
According to Marima, the ordeal began on February 15, 2026, with a sudden and shocking declaration from his wife. “At midnight, she woke up and told me she no longer wanted me to sleep with her. She said if I wanted another wife, I could marry one, because she could no longer fulfil her duties,” Marima testified, his voice steady but laden with the weight of the past few months.
The rejection was not merely a loss of affection; it was accompanied by a spiritual dread. Marima continued, quoting his wife’s chilling explanation: “She even claimed that whenever she was intimate with me, she felt like a demon.” This statement, he told the court, was what first drove him to seek the intervention of her relatives, hoping that family elders could shed light on what was happening to his wife.
However, the situation only grew more bizarre. Marima described a routine that has since become the haunting rhythm of his life. “The following night, again at midnight, she went outside. I looked for her, but could not find her. Since then, it has become routine,” he said. Every night, as the clock strikes twelve, Chirumiko reportedly leaves the bedroom to sleep in the kitchen. But she does not sleep in a conventional manner; Marima claims her head is always positioned specifically by the door, as if waiting or watching.
“Every night she leaves our bedroom and sleeps in the kitchen, her head positioned by the door. When I call her, she becomes violent,” he testified. He noted that she only returns to the bedroom after 1 am, a behaviour he described as “very weird” and “spiritual.”
The impact on the family has been profound. Even their young son has been drawn into the mystery. Marima told the court that the boy had approached him with his own observations. “One day, our son came to me and said he had asked his mother why she leaves the bedroom every midnight. He told me that she said she sees a person standing by the door every night, and that is why she leaves the bedroom,” Marima said.
A Pattern of Pandemonium
The case in Penhalonga is far from an isolated incident. To understand the gravity with which Marima’s claims are treated, one must look at the history of similar escapades that have occurred throughout Zimbabwe. For years, the nation has been captivated by stories of “midnight flyers” who are “caught” in the act of witchcraft, often in the most public and humiliating of circumstances.
Perhaps the most famous of these incidents occurred in September 2013, in the Harare suburb of Budiriro. The city woke to a scene of absolute chaos when two women, later identified as Chipo Chakanyuka and Maria Moyo, were found stark naked outside a house in the early hours of the morning. They were not alone; they were accompanied by the traditional tools of the trade: winnowing baskets, known locally as rusero, a dead owl, and various animal skins.
At the time, the women claimed they had “crash-landed” while on a “night flight” from Gokwe, a rural area hundreds of kilometres away. The incident drew thousands of onlookers, creating a spectacle that required police intervention to maintain order. The women were arrested and charged under the Witchcraft Suppression Act, though the story later took a cynical turn when they claimed they were actually hired actresses, paid by a self-styled prophet named Alfred Mupfumbati to boost his spiritual credentials.
Despite the eventual “confession” of the Budiriro women, the belief in such occurrences remains unshaken for many. Just last year, in January 2023, a woman from Buhera was found in her birth suit inside a shop in Marange during the “wee hours” of a Monday morning. Like many before her, she could not explain how she had entered the locked premises, and the local community immediately labelled it a case of witchcraft.
The Malevolent and the Misunderstood
While women are frequently the targets of such accusations, men are not exempt from the “witch-catching” phenomenon. In March 2014, a naked man reportedly fell from a winnowing basket near the Mbudzi cemetery in Harare. The incident was so startling that it reportedly frightened female police officers on duty nearby. Chief Mkoka, who presided over the area at the time, confirmed the incident, noting that such strange occurrences were becoming increasingly common.
More recently, in February 2024, another “naked wizard” was caught in the act at a homestead. The man, identified only as Mackenzie, was discovered by a homeowner who had sought the services of a local prophet to “trap” whoever was causing misfortune in his family. Mackenzie was found stark naked, allegedly ensnared by the prophet’s spiritual charms.
These cases often follow a similar script: a family experiences misfortune, a “prophet” or traditional healer is consulted, a “trap” is set, and someone is found naked and disoriented at the homestead in the early morning. To the believers, it is proof of the dark arts; to the sceptics, it is a dangerous combination of superstition and social engineering.
The Defence: A Cry for Help?
Back in Chief Mutasa’s court, Nhamoyevana Chirumiko offered a very different explanation for her midnight exits. Far from practising witchcraft, she painted a picture of a woman pushed to the brink by an abusive marriage.
“Ever since I got married to this man, I have always wanted to run away from him. This has been an abusive marriage,” she told the court. Her voice, thick with emotion, described a life of shouting and physical assaults. “This man shouts and assaults me. My mental health is not okay when I am around him. That is why I leave the bedroom at night.”
Chirumiko did not directly address her son’s claims about the “person by the door,” but she was adamant that her actions were a response to fear and distress. “I no longer love this man. I just want to leave this marriage and have peace in my life,” she said.
Her testimony highlights a growing debate in Zimbabwe about the intersection of mental health and traditional beliefs. In many cases where elderly women are found wandering naked — often in the early stages of dementia or Alzheimer’s — they are immediately branded as witches. The “pandemonium” that follows often prevents any rational assessment of their health, leading to social ostracisation or worse.
The Role of Traditional Justice
Chief Mutasa, presiding over the Marima case, took a measured approach, reflecting the delicate balance traditional leaders must maintain. He did not immediately condemn Chirumiko as a witch, nor did he dismiss Marima’s fears as mere superstition.
“This is a matter that requires guidance from elders and family members. You must sit down with your families and try to resolve your differences,” the Chief urged. He noted that the marriage was clearly suffering from “deeper issues” that required careful handling. “Marriage is built on understanding, and when challenges arise, they should first be addressed within the family.”
The Chief’s words point to the enduring power of the traditional court system in Zimbabwe. While the national legal system is based on Roman-Dutch law, the Witchcraft Suppression Act [Chapter 9:19] remains a contentious piece of legislation. Originally enacted by colonial authorities to criminalise the accusation of witchcraft (thereby protecting individuals from being lynched), it was amended in 2006 to recognise that witchcraft practices do exist. However, the law still requires strict proof — something that is notoriously difficult to provide in a court of law.
A Legacy of Fear
The history of witchcraft in Zimbabwe is littered with cases that have left communities divided. In August 2013, just before the Budiriro incident, there was “pandemonium” in Harare’s Dzivarasekwa suburb when a naked woman was discovered on a Sunday morning. Residents gathered in their hundreds, some climbing trees and rooftops just to get a glimpse of the “witch.”
More recently, in April 2025, a man and a woman were apprehended in Chishawasha after being caught in “suspicious activities” early in the morning. They, too, were suspected of witchcraft, adding another chapter to the long-running saga of midnight escapades in the region.
These incidents often share a common thread: the rusero or winnowing basket. In Zimbabwean folklore, the rusero is not just a tool for separating grain from chaff; it is believed to be a sophisticated vehicle for “night flights.” Witches are said to use these baskets to travel vast distances — sometimes even across international borders to South Africa — to perform their dark deeds before returning home before the first cock crows. When they are “caught,” it is often explained as a “crash-landing” caused by a more powerful spiritual force or a “trap” set by a prophet.
The Human Cost of the Dark Arts
As the sun began to set over Chief Mutasa’s court, the tragedy of the Marima marriage remained unresolved. Edson Marima, a man living in “fear and confusion,” stood by his claim that he could no longer stay with someone whose behaviour he did not understand. Nhamoyevana Chirumiko, a woman claiming to be a victim of abuse, sought only the peace that comes with the end of a troubled union.
The case serves as a poignant reminder of the complexities of life in modern Zimbabwe. Here, the ancient and the modern exist side by side. A man can use a mobile phone to call his father-in-law to report a witchcraft incident; a Chief can use the wisdom of the ancestors to mediate a dispute in a world of social media and rapid change.
But the cost of these allegations is high. Whether the “midnight exits” are the result of spiritual practices, mental health struggles, or a desperate attempt to escape an abusive partner, the result is the same: a family shattered and a community on edge.
“Because of all this, I am no longer interested in continuing with this marriage,” Marima told the court. “I am now living in fear and confusion. I cannot stay with someone whose behaviour I do not understand.”
For now, the couple has been sent back to their families for further consultation. But in the villages of Penhalonga and the suburbs of Harare, the stories will continue to be told. They are stories of things that go bump in the night, of baskets that fly through the air, and of the enduring, often terrifying power of belief.
In the end, the truth of what happens at midnight in the kitchens and gardens of Zimbabwe may remain as elusive as the shadows themselves. But for those like Edson Marima, the fear is real, the consequences are permanent, and the midnight hour remains a time of profound and unsettling mystery.
Fact Box: The Witchcraft Suppression Act [Chapter 9:19]
- Original Intent: Enacted in 1899 to stop the “witch-hunts” that often led to the killing of innocent people.
- 2006 Amendment: The law was changed to acknowledge that while “witchcraft” as a supernatural power might be debated, the practice of using items intended to cause harm via spiritual means is a criminal offence.
- The Burden of Proof: It remains a crime to falsely accuse someone of being a witch without evidence, a provision designed to prevent the “pandemonium” that often accompanies such claims.
Glossary of Terms:
- Rusero: A winnowing basket, traditionally used for grain, but believed in folklore to be a vehicle for witches.
- Night Flight: The spiritual journey witches are believed to take during the night.
- Prophet: Often referring to leaders of Apostolic sects who claim to have the power to “catch” witches.