Volume 65 December 2026-January 2026 : Feature

 I left on a Wednesday at eventide to the main mall to join a friend of mine, Phakiso, who claimed to have a lead to satanists. Since there was an outcry from some senior secondary schools, supported by the head of intelligence agency Isaac Kgosi that satanism was in the rise, I developed a strong desire to come face to face with the devil or his cohorts in the form of satanists.

 The mall was deserted save for a few security men crammed in a corner near Spar Supermarket. A cold breeze patted against my face while papers and wrappers swooshed on the pavement under the veil of darkness. A man walking with heavy strides appeared from the side of the town council and strode as if driven to fury by scrutiny of men. He was coming straight for me.

 Soon I found my thoughts, steaming from my mind like mist from hollows, and roaming in forlornness like an evil spirit seeking rest and finding none. Just a few steps away from me, he reached into his jacket pocket in such a way that he could be mistaken for someone pulling out a gun, “Oh my God he is a satanist,” I was trying to find my breath as all the stories about the horrible things that satanists do to innocent people came rushing.

 “Are they closed, he said pointing to Debonairs with a wallet in his hand. A sigh of relief.

“Oh, just now,” I replied.

“These guys are not serious they can`t close this early,” he said before retracing his steps.

 I realised then that I was actually hunting for what I feared the most. My fears were actually solidified by Phakiso`s contention that satanists offered love to those who cherished them and visited their wrath on those who sought to cause them harm. I did not know which side I fell.

Phakiso has told me several stories of his own encounter with the devil but I found many of them fantastic.

“Satanism is all about hurting people and causing confusion, and once I was with them they forced me to drink my blood,” so he told me.

It was already close to midnight, and I was still there waiting for Phakiso to come and facilitate my encounter with the devil or his associates but he was nowhere to be seen. But then my friend Phakiso is a man still battling with his own demons.

A man besieged by problems like him often look for the easy way out. Somehow I suspected he had set me up to be kidnapped by satanists.  The weary barking of a dog disrupted my thoughts, and disturbed the stillness of the night.

“Maybe they can send a demonic spirit to deal with me right here,” I thought.

I woke up to a heavy knock on the door and the ringing of my cellphone. Phakiso and two skinny blokes stood by my door. “These are the guys, sorry I was still waiting for the other one,” I could have laughed my lungs out. Two skinny boys with mohawk hairstyles, and they wanted me to believe they were satanists.

“You guys look like a bunch of rabbits,” I teased them. I expected to see “satanists” who stick out like a sore thumb, not fashion fanatics living in the fantasy of their dreams. As my conversation with them matured I realised the guys were as empty as I was. The only thing they could show for their association with the devil was a few dragon tattoos and body piercings.

 “But everybody has tattoos and body piercings but they are not satanists, I want real satanists with skeletons in their closets!”

The following week I found myself at one of the highly respected churches in town, where I was told by my sources that it was where all satanic activity took place. I tried to look for things unusual, and failed dismally. Then I got another lead from another guy in Ramotswa, known only as Kopo. He too claimed to have had an encounter with satanists. He also told me about the blood story. Whenever there was an accident, Satanists rushed to the scene to drink the blood of victims.

We took a journery on Facebook and he showed me those he claimed wanted to recruit him into the cult. Among them was a lady from a well-known family in Kanye. Together we went into her profile pictures. There were dragons and herself looking like a beast. “She says once you are into Satanism there is good money,” said Kopo.

Was Satanism really about strange hair styles, body piercing and tattoos, I wondered. Soon I found myself on the phone with head of national intelligence agency, Isaac Kgosi - interrogating him as if he himself was a satanist. After all this was the man who some local papers quoted not long ago as complaining about the rise of satanism in Botswana. His answer was curt, “that is a matter still under investigation, we can`t talk about it.”

And no, despite his soft spoken demeanor Kgosi`s attitude was as tough as a nail. He would not yield despite application of several tricks to get him to open up. And so, here I am still awaiting my encounter with the devil and/or his cohorts.ENDS

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