THE FORGOTTEN AFRICAN BELIEFS: WHY WE TURNED AWAY AND WHAT COMES NEXT.

 

In this great future, you can't forget your past, Bob Marley once said, and that truth urges us to look closer at the stories we’ve been told. If the future asks us to remember, then we must ask why Africa’s original spiritual traditions were cast aside. Long before outside influence, our ancestors had wisdom, belief systems, and connection to the divine. As Einstein said, true intelligence is imagination, and maybe it is time we imagine things in a new way.

 

1. Introduction.

 

I want to be clear from the start, as this is not an attack on the religions introduced to Africa, and I fully respect the faiths that have touched many lives around the world. I fully acknowledge their meaning in the lives of millions. This reflection is shared only for educational purposes and is meant to revisit what was already present in African communities, as they had already mapped their own ways to the divine long before colonizers arrived with scriptures in one hand and empires in the other.  

 

In those sacred moments of their own making, elders and seekers stood beneath baobab trees and whispered prayers to the winds, not out of confusion, but from knowledge passed down through generations. They didn’t need foreign approval to believe in right and wrong, or to gather under moonlight and give thanks to the Creator. To witness all of this and to suggest they were wandering in darkness is to miss the truth entirely. That idea overlooks the spiritual legacy that already existed in Africa.

 

The Creator had different names in Africa, including Olodumare among the Yoruba, Chukwu to the Igbo, Nyame in Akan lands, Mawu-Lisa in Dahomey, Mulungu within Bantu cultures, Unkulunkulu among the Zulu, and many others throughout the continent. These names were expressions of a higher power, spoken in different tongues and placed in sacred traditions. African spirituality did not reject the presence of this divine truth, it accepted it, established it in the land, and lived it in the everyday.

 

These names were not whispered in fear or superstition, they were spoken openly and with reverence, carried in rituals of respect. So when missionaries arrived claiming to carry the only truth, they did not simply question African beliefs, they swept them aside like dust, labeling them primitive, demonic, or unholy, refusing to see the structure, sacredness, and depth within them. Instead of dialogue, they brought declarations. The story that has been told ever since, suggesting the continent was waiting to be saved, was never truly about truth. It was always about power. It was about wiping away memory and teaching generations to view their own roots through a lens of doubt, even shame.

 

1.1. Beyond the Conquest.

 

But think about it, really think. What kind of Creator would stay silent for millennia while millions searched for truth, only to finally speak through colonizers who imposed their beliefs with one hand and enslaved with the other? Would a loving and righteous Creator only extend grace through conquest, through whips, chains, and books wrapped in bullets?

 

That version of the story falls apart the moment we remember the teachings and wisdom, the sacred songs that bind the people, the rituals of harmony that have been here for centuries. What was called “demonic” was often just misunderstood or intentionally misrepresented to break people from their roots. 

 

Yes, evil exists. Just like kindness does. Just like greed, just like grace. Every tradition wrestles with these forces. In many African spiritual systems, wrongdoing was seen as any action that disrupted the harmony and balance within the community, the land, the spiritual world, or the ancestral moral codes. It was seen as an offense against the order established by the Creator, whether through harmful actions, misguided intentions, or the misuse of spiritual knowledge.

 

That’s not so different from the idea of sin elsewhere. But reducing African belief systems into something to fear doesn't do justice to the meaning they carry. That was done so power could stay in certain hands. And now, it is time to remember what was forgotten on purpose, our ancestors weren’t lost. They were listening, speaking, healing. And they deserve more than silence, what they deserve is to be heard.

 

2. Erasing Africa's Beliefs.

 

When colonizers from both Europe and the Arab world set foot on the African continent, they brought more than just military power and economic ambition. They arrived with a mission to alter the spiritual map. Each carried their own belief systems, introduced as divine truth, and used them to wage a quiet war against the sacred traditions that had directed African life for generations. What followed wasn’t just conquest of land, but an erasure of memory, an attempt to overwrite the spiritual frameworks that had long formed African identity. 

 

Missionaries from both sides, backed by colonial and imperial powers, worked tirelessly to dismantle the belief systems of African societies. The introduction of new belief systems was a strategic move, not just to convert but to control. Colonization was not only about land, it was about rewriting African identity, and religion was the primary tool in this effort. In the process, African spirituality was grossly misunderstood and deliberately misrepresented. 

 

Practices that had long been part of African cultures such as ancestor veneration, spirit worship, and the role of spiritual healers were seen through a lens of fear and suspicion. To the eyes of foreign missionaries and colonizers, anything outside of their own religious frameworks was dangerous. Ancestors, revered as guides and protectors, were depicted as demons while healers, who used knowledge of plants and spirituality to cure ailments, were dismissed as witches or sorcerers. 

 

2.1. Dismantling the Sacred.

 

The demonization of African spirituality wasn’t just an accident but it was a necessary tool in making African traditions seem inferior and in need of replacement. The use of “witchcraft” as a blanket term for all African spiritual practices became a convenient way to undermine the indigenous belief systems by painting them as dark, backward, and evil. 

 

Whether through the spread of foreign belief systems introduced by European powers or the religious influence that accompanied Arab traders and conquerors, both currents moved alongside colonial interests, working to disrupt the spiritual and social ways of African society. The imposition of outside doctrines wasn’t just about spiritual conversion, it was a strategic move to control and subordinate the African people. Schools and foreign religious institutions became places of re-education, where Africans were taught to reject their ancestral practices in favor of foreign belief systems. 

 

By the time these fear-based labels had taken grip, their impact spread everywhere. "Witchcraft" became a tool not only for demonizing African spirituality but for controlling African identity. It allowed the colonial and imperial powers to dismiss African knowledge, governance, and healing practices as primitive and unworthy of respect. 

 

The constant degradation of African spirituality was not only a means to maintain dominance, it also made it easier to suppress any form of resistance. Fear of being labeled a witch or a sorcerer kept many Africans from practicing their traditions openly, further isolating them from their cultural roots. Yet, despite the efforts to erase their spiritual practices, African spirituality has survived and adapted, showing the strength of the continent’s spiritual and cultural heritage.

 

2.2. Lost Spiritual Heritage.

 

For centuries, African spiritual practices were systematically erased, misrepresented, and pushed aside. The point is not to criticize the belief systems introduced to Africa but to question why African traditions were so often labeled as “evil” or “demonic” while foreign belief systems were seen as superior. Arabs and Europeans did not simply offer alternatives. They worked to replace African spirituality altogether. Practices like ancestor veneration, spirit worship, and healing were dismissed as “witchcraft” or “idol worship,” not out of misunderstanding alone but often as a deliberate move to discredit and dominate.

 

The real question, then, is why Africans were not given the freedom to retain their spiritual practices alongside the new faiths that were introduced. This lack of choice and the effort to replace indigenous spirituality with foreign ideologies is what made the situation so troubling, brushing aside traditions that had carried meaning for generations. Instead, Africans were made to feel shame for their ancestral connections, such as their ties to nature, healers, and spirits. Even now, many Africans are still trying to recover what was nearly lost, which is the right to see their own spirituality as worthy.

 

3. The Wisdom Keepers.

 

For far too long, African spirituality has been misread through the lens of colonial bias, labeled as superstition, and lumped together with devil worship. But that story was never ours. Throughout the continent, spiritual life was built on connection first to the Creator, then to community, to nature, and to those who came before us. The idea of a single, all knowing Creator was never foreign to Africa. He was Engai to the Maasai, Ruwa to the Chaga, Modimo to the Sotho-Tswana people, and Nyame to the Akan. 

 

Each community had its own name for the Creator, but the understanding remained the same, which is that there is one Creator at the top, beyond reach, honored in everyday life. African spirituality was never about chaos. It was about balance between the physical and the spiritual, the living and the departed, the land and the people.

 

Healers were never the villains they were often portrayed as. They were respected members of the community, offering both spiritual guidance and practical healing with knowledge of roots, herbs, and human emotion. In the villages, when someone fell ill, the first visit was not to an emergency ward but to the elder with knowledge passed down through generations. Traditional healers knew how to read the body and the soul. They were doctors, therapists, and spiritual advisers rolled into one. 

 

Diviners were consulted not out of fear but because their wisdom brought clarity and guidance, helping people recover what was lost, make sense of dreams, settle unrest, and more. In times of grief, they didn’t stir panic but brought calm instead. Their guidance reached into leadership too, with spiritual leaders like Liti Kidanka of Singida, Tanganyika, a healer who stood against German forces from 1908 to 1910, summoning bees as her defense. Her story is one of many in Africa, showing how spiritual knowledge often moved quietly behind courage, wisdom, and unity.

 

3.1. The Ancestors.

 

And then there were the ancestors, the ones who walked before us. African spirituality saw them not as gods but as guides. Their presence wasn’t a haunting, it was a comfort. Pouring libation, setting aside food at the table, or speaking a name into the wind were not rituals of fear, they were acts of memory. Ancestors were believed to be watching, listening, and caring. 

 

When someone faced hardship, the question wasn’t “What curse is this?” it was “Have I forgotten who I am?” And remembering who you are meant remembering where you came from. Rituals were not empty performances, they were intimate moments of gratitude and remembrance. They connected the living to the wisdom of the past.

 

3.2. What Comes Next.

 

So, what now? After all that history, after the labeling, the loss, the slow return, what direction does Africa take? Some feel the pull toward ancestral practices. Others hold firmly to the religions introduced centuries ago. Still, many find themselves somewhere in between as they carve space for both without having to let either go. But in many parts of Africa, there’s a quiet curiosity rising as questions once buried are now being asked. People are revisiting the wisdom of their ancestors not to replace anything, but to remember what was never lost in the first place. Right in the middle of it all, many still believe in one creator who is known by different names and honored in different ways.

 

And in all of this, it isn’t about choosing one and discarding the other. It’s about having the freedom to understand each on our own terms. Over generations, more people are trying to make sense of where they stand, not just spiritually, but culturally. It’s not always about going back or staying still. It’s about mending what was broken along the way. What matters is that the choice to believe, to practice, and to think through it all feels like ours without shame and without fear.

 

Will African spiritual systems ever move beyond the continent the way other belief systems have? In many ways, they already have. In the practices of Vodou, Hoodoo, Palo Mayombe, Santería, Candomblé, and others, you’ll find traces of Africa. These traditions crossed the ocean in chains but remained alive in spirit. Maybe the next step isn’t to compete or convert. Maybe it’s to walk forward with honesty, with the understanding that African spirituality, like the people who carry it, has never needed permission to exist. The question of what comes next isn’t about which religion to follow. It’s about whether Africa is ready to trust itself.

 

4. Conclusion.

 

So here we are, standing at the end of what might feel like a long, overdue conversation. The kind that doesn’t shout for your attention but quietly sits beside you and says, “Look again.” This has never been about turning your back on what you were raised to believe. It's about looking beneath what was handed down and asking, “What was hidden, and why?” Some truths were buried for so long, it took generations for the silence to crack. But now that it has, we don’t have to fear what we find. Honoring truth isn’t an act of rebellion, it is the moment we stop being afraid to look back and start being brave enough to listen.

 

Our ancestors weren’t confused. They weren’t misled. They weren’t dancing in the dark hoping someone would come save them. They carried knowledge that scared empires, with their ceremonies, stories, and ways of reading the stars, the body, and the land, all of it remaining alive and none of it ever truly disappearing. It was buried under the weight of shame that wasn’t theirs to carry. And here we are now, with a choice. We can either keep walking past that silence, or we can sit down and hear what’s still humming underneath it. Reclaiming that wisdom isn’t fiction, it is a kind of remembrance that asks us to remember what was never truly gone.

 

The real twist in this story isn’t in what was done, but in who convinced us to see it the way we did. Maybe it was never about demons, or darkness, or lost souls. Maybe it was about power, and the need to keep it. Maybe the real question isn’t who was following the devil, but who told us to think that way about African beliefs in the first place. Who painted our traditions as evil and our elders as misguided? Who decided that what had held entire civilizations together was suddenly something to be feared? And if we dare to ask that, then we also dare to rewrite the story into something where we’re not broken, not cursed, not wandering, but walking back home, step by steady step.

 

So let this be a moment not to reject where you come from but to see it with new eyes. The belief systems that arrived later and the African systems that were already there were never meant to cancel each other out. They were always meant to move together like different verses of the same song. Truth doesn’t erase anything, it makes room for what was pushed aside. It holds the old and the older, the remembered and the nearly forgotten. And somewhere in that space is where you’ll find not just your ancestors but also yourself. Because maybe they were never the ones who were lost. Maybe we were just taught to forget them.

 

Thank you.

 

Written by Christopher Makwaia

Tel: +255 789 242 396

 

 

— The writer, is a University of West London graduate (formerly Thames Valley University) and an expert in Management, Leadership, International Business, Foreign Affairs, Global Marketing, Diplomacy, International Relations, Conflict Resolution, Negotiations, Security, Arms Control, Political Scientist, and a self-taught Computer Programmer and Web Developer