Clive Tatenda Makumbe
In a dusty settlement on Ghana’s arid northern plains, 68-year-old “Fawza” sits outside a mud hut, stirring a small pot of porridge over a charcoal fire. This humble encampment is her enforced home. Branded a “witch” by her community after a neighbor accused her of causing a mysterious illness, she fled for her life.
Fawza is one of hundreds of Ghanaian women living in so-called “witch camps” – isolated villages where those accused of witchcraft seek refuge from mob violence. A new Amnesty International report titled “Branded for Life” has cast a spotlight on their plight, revealing how deeply-rooted superstitions and social neglect have condemned these women to a life of stigma and hardship.
‘Branded for Life’: Amnesty Sounds the Alarm
According to the report, more than 500 people – overwhelmingly older women, many widowed or with disabilities – are currently living in four informal “witch camps” across the Northern and North East Regions. They subsist with “insufficient access to health services, food, safe housing, clean water and economic opportunities”.
Most were chased out after being blamed for misfortunes in their communities. “These accusations, often triggered by a death, illness or even a dream, are rooted in misogyny and harmful stereotypes,” said Michèle Eken,
Amnesty International’s Senior Researcher, noting that victims are usually older women living in poverty or with disabilities who become easy scapegoats. Once accused, a woman’s fate is grim – many are beaten or threatened with lynching, then banished from their villages.
Those who survive the initial attacks typically end up in one of the witch camps, effectively exiled for life.
Michèle Eken, Amnesty International’s, Senior Researcher, emphasizes the enduring stigma faced by these women.
“For decades, accused witches in Ghana have been branded for life, cast out of their communities and denied their basic rights because of baseless allegations,” Cannuel said, underscoring the report’s finding that the victims often spend the rest of their lives in deplorable conditions, cut off from their families.
She urged authorities to break this cycle of abuse, warning that without intervention, “more women will continue to live and die in misery, unjustly punished for crimes they never committed.”
At a media briefing in Accra launching the report, Amnesty officials recounted harrowing testimonies from victims. One woman described how a neighbor’s nightmare led to her being denounced as a witch.
“My neighbour said he dreamt […] that I was trying to kill him. He doesn’t want me in the community, that’s why he accused me,” recalled Fawza from Gnani camp.
Another, a 60-year-old resident of Kukuo camp, said, “They always have plans of putting allegations against you, especially if you are hardworking and still strong and doing well as a woman”. Such accusations, often sparked by personal disputes or unexplained tragedies, can escalate quickly.
“The accusations, which can lead to threats, physical attacks or even death, usually start within the family or among community members following a tragic event such as an illness or a death,”
Amnesty’s report explains. Lacking any legal protection, the accused are at the mercy of mobs and vigilantes. Many suffer brutal violence: Amnesty’s investigation notes cases of women being lynched, beaten, or forced to drink poisonous concoctions in grotesque “trial by ordeal” rituals.
Exiled to the Camps: Life in Limbo
An elderly woman at a “witch camp” in northern Ghana. Rights groups report that hundreds of accused women live in such camps, often for decades, with limited food, water, and medical care.
For those who escape death and reach the witch camps, life remains harsh. These camps with names like Gambaga, Kukuo, Gnani and Nabuli have existed for over a century as sanctuaries for alleged witches. Originally, they were intended to save accused persons from lynching by providing a place of asylum.
Today, however, they stand as bleak symbols of societal neglect. “These so-called ‘witch camps’ are not places of refuge; they are symbols of fear, exclusion, and deep-seated injustice,” says Genevieve Partington, Amnesty International’s country director in Ghana.
The report paints a grim picture of camp conditions: dilapidated huts with leaky thatch roofs, scarce food and water, little to no healthcare, and no government support programs.
Elderly women survive on handouts or hard labor. In Kukuo camp, one octogenarian told researchers, “I miss a lot from home. I had everything. I was harvesting shea nuts. Now, if someone doesn’t feed me, how would I eat?”a. Another resident described rain seeping through her crumbling roof each time storms struck.
Sanitation and health services are woefully inadequate. Many camp inhabitants suffer chronic illnesses (such as arthritis, failing eyesight, or untreated injuries from assaults) with minimal relief. “Health services are also inadequate for women who have serious or ongoing health conditions,” Amnesty found, noting that conditions like dementia or schizophrenia are often misinterpreted as witchcraft in the first place.
The Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Protection has acknowledged that menopausal symptoms or mental health issues in the elderly are frequently viewed with superstitious suspicion in rural Ghana.
“It is very unfortunate that the aged are always wrongly accused as witches when they demonstrate menopausal symptoms and health issues such as dementia,” remarked Freda Prempeh, a former Deputy Gender Minister, in the wake of a high-profile lynching in 2020. Despite this awareness, little medical or psychological assistance reaches the camps.
Isolated and ostracized, the residents of the camps rely on benevolent locals, NGOs or visiting charities for survival. There is no formal government stipend or rehabilitation plan for them.
“They have no means to support themselves, and yet there are no government programs to help them recover,” observed Marceau Sivieude, Amnesty’s interim regional director for West and Central Africa, stressing the state’s failure to provide any social safety net to these vulnerable women.
Amnesty and other civil society groups have called the continued existence of the camps a national shame, urging authorities to gradually dismantle them, but only in tandem with proper reintegration of the women into society.
“Reintegration must be accompanied by support systems, including housing, healthcare, and economic empowerment programmes,” Partington insists. Simply closing the camps without a plan, advocates warn, could leave the women homeless and in danger of retribution back home.
Ghana’s government itself has grappled with this dilemma. Officials concede that while the camps are an embarrassing relic, they continue to serve a grim purpose: offering a last resort haven for accused people who would otherwise face violence.
“A lot of them have refused to go home because of fear. Families have refused to accept them… [They] run to the shelter at night because they know that the young men will come after them,” former Gender Minister Cynthia Morrison explained in 2020, after visiting several camps.
The traditional chiefs who host these camps have often told authorities that they do not condone the accusations or lynchings, but step in to provide refuge when someone’s life is at risk. In that sense, the camps are a lesser evil born out of necessity. Yet, conditions there remain dire, effectively a life of indignity and marginalization.
As one Ghanaian human rights commissioner put it, “The culture of witchcraft accusation and its connected witch camps is a serious dent on Ghana’s image as a country. It has become an albatross around the neck of the country for decades”.
Cultural Roots: Fear, Misfortune and Misogyny
Witchcraft beliefs run deep in Ghana’s cultural fabric, particularly in northern regions. In many rural communities, misfortunes such as a poor harvest, a sudden illness, a child’s death are often attributed to spiritual malevolence.
Anthropologists note that, accusations tend to target societies most vulnerable: elderly women, widows, the destitute, or those who don’t conform to expected norms.
In Ghana, as in many parts of West Africa, witchcraft is seen as a real and present force. Paradoxically, it is not illegal to believe in witchcraft or even to practice traditional magic indeed, Ghana’s constitution protects freedom of belief – but it is illegal to harm someone or violate their rights because of such beliefs. Unfortunately, in practice, perpetrators of witch-hunting violence have rarely been brought to justice, and harmful practices have persisted in the shadows of tradition.
Historically, northern Ghana’s witch camps date back over a hundred years. The most notorious, Gambaga camp, was reportedly established in the 18th century by a local chief to shelter accused witches and prevent bloodshed. Over time, similar sanctuaries emerged. The very existence of these camps indicates a long-running tension between customary belief systems and modern human rights law. In local folklore, a witch (called “bayi” in some Ghanaian languages) is someone – usually an older woman – believed to wield dark supernatural powers, often held responsible for misfortunes befalling neighbors or kin.
Accusations can arise out of personal grudges, inheritance disputes, or even something as capricious as a dream. “Older women living in poverty, with health conditions or disabilities are at greater risk, as well as women who do not conform to stereotypical gender roles,”
Amnesty’s report notes. For example, a woman who never married or had children, or one who is outspoken, might be more easily tagged as a witch by suspicious neighbors. Poverty and low education amplify these beliefs. As Samadu Sayibu of Ghanaian NGO Songtaba observes, the witchcraft phenomenon “highlight[s] issues such as gender and poverty” in these communities.
Tragically, while women bear the brunt of witchcraft stigma, men accused of witchcraft (often termed “wizards”) are relatively rare and sometimes even seen as possessing “good” magic. This double standard underscores the gender bias inherent in the accusations.
Human rights advocates like Leo Igwe, founder of the Advocacy for Alleged Witches, argue that elderly women are easy targets for collective fears: “This is a reflection of how we treat elderly people,” Igwe told AFP, linking the witch hunts to the broader neglect and abuse of seniors. In some cases, accusations have been used to deprive women of property or to settle scores.
Amnesty’s report recounts how one woman was accused by a relative who owed her money, conveniently deflecting his debt by driving her away as a feared witch.
Successive Ghanaian administrations, as well as community leaders, have acknowledged the need to eradicate these practices. Traditional authorities in the north have periodically collaborated with NGOs to reintegrate some alleged witches back to their home villages, especially when calm returns.
Churches and civil society groups have also campaigned against witch-hunting. Yet, deeply entrenched beliefs mean that even when women are declared innocent by a shrine or a chief, their communities may still reject them.
Public education campaigns have had limited reach in remote areas. “We call on [civil society] to increase public education and awareness campaigns to challenge myths, educate communities, and promote the rights of elderly women to help reduce and eventually end witchcraft accusations,”
Partington urged at the report launch. The Commission on Human Rights and Administrative Justice (CHRAJ) and the National Commission for Civic Education have likewise conducted community dialogues, aiming to demystify illness and misfortune without blaming innocent people. But changing minds takes time and the women in the camps simply may not have much time left.
Law and Disorder: The Legal Vacuum and a New Bill
One of the report’s most pressing findings is Ghana’s lack of specific legal protections for those accused of witchcraft. Until recently, declaring someone a witch was not explicitly defined as a crime. Violence against accused witches could be punished under general assault or homicide laws, but there was no statute addressing the act of making a witchcraft accusation or banishing someone on that basis. This legal gap has long been flagged by activists. In July 2020, the gruesome mob lynching of a 90-year-old woman, Akua Denteh, in Kafaba (Savannah Region) jolted the nation. The murder – filmed on video and widely circulated, sparked outrage and pledges of reform. President Nana Akufo-Addo condemned the killing, and police arrested several suspects. The then Second Lady, Samira Bawumia, and gender rights groups attended Akua Denteh’s funeral to signal solidarity. That incident became a catalyst for legal action.
By early 2023, a coalition of lawmakers led by Francis-Xavier Sosu, an opposition MP, introduced a Private Member’s Bill in Parliament to criminalize witchcraft accusations and related abuses. The bill – officially titled the Criminal Offences (Amendment) Bill, 2023, sought to outlaw accusing someone of being a witch, and ban the practice of witch “finding” or ritual witch-testing. It also proposed penalties for anyone who forces alleged witches to undergo harmful rituals or banishes them from their home.
In essence, it aimed to put into law what human rights advocates had long been demanding: “a legal framework to prosecute offenders… and give confidence to victims… to reintegrate into their communities,” as Kwame Anyimadu-Antwi, chair of Parliament’s Legal and Constitutional Committee, explained during the parliamentary debate.
On July 27, 2023, Ghana’s Parliament unanimously passed this Anti-Witchcraft Bill, a move hailed as historic. “The law will provide a legal framework to prosecute offenders and give confidence to victims to reunite with their families,” Anyimadu-Antwi said on the House floor, emphasizing that dismantling the camps and ending abuses would now have solid legal backing.
However, in a twist that Amnesty International later criticized, President Akufo-Addo declined to sign the bill into law. In December 2023, as his term ended, the President returned the bill to Parliament, citing constitutional and procedural concerns.
He argued that, such legislation, which could entail financial obligations for the state (for example, support for reintegrated women), should have been introduced by the government (as a public bill) rather than by an individual MP.
The President’s office also expressed worry about enforcement and potential conflicts with traditional authorities. This decision dismayed activists and left the bill in limbo.
CHRAJ publicly urged the President to “resolve any constitutional concerns… in order to assent to the [Anti-Witchcraft Bill] to further enhance the protection of this vulnerable group”, stressing that the law would bolster Ghana’s human rights record. “Its dire consequences on the rights of Ghanaian women are beyond debate… [Witchcraft accusation] undermines national efforts towards the realization of SDG Goal 5 on gender equality,” CHRAJ wrote in an advisory opinion, underscoring the urgency of the law.
With Ghana’s general elections in late 2024 bringing a change in government, the fate of the anti-witchcraft legislation gained renewed attention. In January 2025, newly elected President John Mahama took office, and his administration signaled support for reviving the bill. Amnesty International wasted no time in lobbying the new government. The organization shared its Branded for Life findings with Ghanaian authorities in February 2025 and held discussions with the Attorney General’s Office and the Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Protection.
According to Amnesty, officials “expressed interest in the reintroduction in parliament of the private member’s bill to criminalize witchcraft accusations”. Indeed, MP Francis-Xavier Sosu swiftly reintroduced the bill in late February 2025. It is currently making its way through Parliament once again, with observers hopeful that this time it will not hit a presidential veto. In a recent statement, President Mahama’s Vice President, Naana Jane Opoku-Agyemang (the first woman to hold that office in Ghana), noted that protecting women from harmful traditional practices is high on the new administration’s agenda. “Persistent barriers to gender equality, including witchcraft accusations and ritual attacks, must be tackled head on,” the President himself affirmed at his inauguration, aligning with Amnesty’s recommendations.
Official Responses: A Balancing Act between Tradition and Rights
Ghanaian authorities have offered a mix of condemnation, caution, and commitment in responding to the Branded for Life report and the broader issue. The Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Protection, which is at the forefront of these efforts, has publicly decried the abuses. “We will not sit unconcerned for this to continue,” Freda Prempeh declared in 2020 regarding the perennial persecution of elderly women as witches.
That sense of urgency is echoed in 2025. The Ministry’s current leadership welcomed Amnesty’s report and recommendations. In a press release, the ministry acknowledged that “witchcraft accusations and violence against alleged witches… [Are] inimical to the wellbeing of women and girls”, pledging to work with stakeholders to end the practice. Officials say they have been ramping up community sensitization programs in the north, partnering with traditional rulers and civil society groups to educate the public that accusing someone of witchcraft is both wrong and, pending the new law, soon to be criminal.
Notably, the Office of the Vice President, which in the previous administration was occupied by Dr. Mahamudu Bawumia, a native of northern Ghana, had also shown interest in addressing the issue. Dr. Bawumia himself visited the Gambaga camp in 2017 and donated food and supplies to the women, though at the time he framed the gesture as humanitarian rather than political.
Now, with a new Vice President who is female and a strong advocate for women’s rights, there is renewed hope for government action. Vice President Opoku-Agyemang has lent her voice to the cause, calling the continued existence of witch camps “an affront to the dignity and safety of our mothers and grandmothers.”
Her office has indicated support for establishing a national task force to oversee the reintegration of accused witches and the dismantling of the camps in a safe, phased manner, once the legal framework is in place.
Parliament, for its part, appears strongly in favor of the reforms. Both majority and opposition MPs have spoken out against witchcraft-related abuses in floor debates. The Speaker of Parliament has been urged by Amnesty International to prioritize the Anti-Witchcraft Bill’s passage in this new session. “We have to act swiftly and pass this law to stop the barbarism,” MP Francis-Xavier Sosu said in an interview, emphasizing that Ghana’s international reputation is on the line.
Ghana’s lawmakers seem keen to align the country with others in the region that have begun tackling witchcraft accusations through legislation. For example, Liberia and Malawi have also considered laws against witch hunts in recent years. The Parliamentary Committee on Gender and Children has additionally recommended more funding for shelters and skills-training programs to help reintegrate women who come out of the camps.
The Ministry of Health and Ghana Health Service have also been drawn into the conversation, particularly on the aspect of mental health and public education. Health officials note that some people accused of witchcraft might be suffering from conditions like Alzheimer’s, epilepsy, or depression, which rural communities may misinterpret. “We need to bridge traditional beliefs with medical understanding,” one health ministry representative said at a recent forum, pointing out that Ghana’s Mental Health Authority has dispatched outreach teams to parts of the north to explain that diseases, not curses, cause ailments.
The Ministry of Health has indicated it will strengthen healthcare delivery in areas where these accusations are common, ensuring that treatable illnesses don’t become death sentences via witch-hunts. Mobile clinics and community nurses are being tasked with educating families that an elderly woman’s memory loss or a child’s convulsions are medical issues, not evidence of witchcraft.
Civil society leaders have greeted official pronouncements with cautious optimism. ActionAid Ghana, which has long campaigned on this issue, commended the reintroduction of the bill but criticized delays. “The passage of the bill into law is a clear statement of Ghana’s commitment to human rights… The delay sent a disturbing message, we looked like a country with no respect for human rights,” said Susan Aryeetey, acting Executive Director of FIDA-Ghana, at an ActionAid forum in late 2024.
Now that progress is back on track, Aryeetey and others urge vigorous implementation. They called on President Mahama to visit the witch camps in person, to hear from the women and signal national remorse for their suffering.
In October 2024, ActionAid organized a panel of experts (including Sosu, legal scholars, and women’s rights activists) who issued a “clarion call” to the presidency: “Urgently assent to the Criminal Offences Amendment Bill NOW and visit the witch camps NOW!.” That sense of now permeates the advocacy community – a recognition that after decades of reports and promises, tangible change must occur.
The Long Road to Justice and Dignity
While challenges remain, there is a sense that Ghana stands at a turning point on this issue. The Amnesty International report “Branded for Life” has galvanized public discourse, both within Ghana and internationally. Editorials in Ghanaian newspapers have called the continued witchcraft accusations an “ugly blot on our national conscience.”
The Ghanaian Times, in an editorial following the report’s release, urged that 2025 be the year Ghana finally “exorcises” the specter of witch camp injustices, not through magic but through law, education, and enforcement. Their own sister publications in Ghana reports that ordinary Ghanaians are increasingly speaking out against the persecution of alleged witches, especially after hearing the personal stories highlighted by Amnesty.
Crucially, many of the women in the camps themselves express a simple wish,
to go home. Amnesty International’s Interim Regional Director for West and Central Africa Marceau Sivieude, notes that despite year’s even decades of exile, a number of camp residents would return to their communities if they felt safe. Some have families who secretly maintain contact and would welcome them back if the community attitude changed. Achieving that “safe return” will require concerted effort not only passing the law to criminalize new accusations, but also public campaigns to debunk witchcraft myths, and mediation in villages to accept the returnees.
Ghana’s Ministry of Gender has floated the idea of using respected community members and even faith leaders to publicly renounce witchcraft stigmatization, in hopes that villagers will follow suit. International partners are also pitching in: the United Nations and EU delegations in Ghana have offered support for reintegration programs, and neighboring countries are sharing experiences (for instance, Nigeria’s Cross River state ran a successful project to rehabilitate alleged child witches).
“Ending these abuses requires more than laws, it demands a holistic approach that tackles stigma, provides protection, and helps victims rebuild their lives,” says Genevieve Partington.
Indeed, the consensus is that a multi-pronged strategy is needed. The proposed new law will be a foundational step, effectively sending a message that accusing someone of witchcraft is not just superstitious, it’s criminal. But enforcement will be key: local police must take reports of threats seriously, and courts must prosecute offenders.
At the same time, parallel efforts to improve rural livelihoods, health care, and education are vital to remove the seedbeds of witchcraft allegations such as ignorance, fear and desperation.
As Ghana works to consign this practice to history, the women currently living in the witch camps remain in precarious limbo. In Gnani camp, Fawza and her peers find faint hope in hearing that lawmakers in far-off Accra are debating their fate.
“If the law stops people from calling us witches, maybe one day I can go back,” she says quietly, eyes shining with the possibility of reunion with the family and farm she left behind. For her and hundreds like her, justice and redemption have been long delayed.
The coming months will test Ghana’s resolve to ensure that no woman is ever again branded for life as a witch and that those already scarred by these accusations can finally reclaim their place in society, free from fear.
