In Tajikistan mediums, fortune tellers and psychics risk prison

A woman wearing a turban opens the door of her apartment, from which the smell of incense emanates. “I don’t accept new clients anymore, it could be a trap,” she says suspiciously. The scene takes place in Tajikistan, where the authorities have announced a “witch hunt”.

“I risk a heavy fine, I don’t want people at my door”, he explains, closing the door of his house, which is located in Dushanbe, the Tajik capital. The smell of incense wafts down the stairs, following in the footsteps of a customer who has just left. It is harmal, also called wild rue, a very popular plant in the Middle East and Central Asia, which is mainly used to fumigate or protect against the evil eye.

For the witches, fortune tellers, mediums and psychics of this Central Asian country, it is best to keep a low profile to avoid arrest and public disapproval.

The security forces have recently multiplied operations against what they define as “parasites” and who, according to them, “carry out some of the most detestable activities that exist, divination and witchcraft”. The use of occult practices is quite widespread in all strata of conservative Muslim societies in Central Asian countries. But in Tajikistan, authorities are struggling to control it.

Thousands of arrests

The fight against witchcraft is part of a broader policy of strict control by the Tajik regime. The authoritarian and secular government seeks not only to contain radical Islam, but also ancestral beliefs.

“Illegal religious teaching leads to statehood, divination and witchcraft. Tajik people! The Prophet categorically forbade going to see fortune-tellers and sorcerers,” warned in March the head of state, Emomali Rahmon, who leads this former republic Soviet since 1992.

Six months later, he announced the arrest of “1,500 people engaged in witchcraft and divination.” He also arrested “more than 5,000 mullahs”, who were supposed to heal people through prayers.

For repeat offenders, Tajik laws provide for fines of $13,300 (equivalent to an average six-year salary for a Tajik) and up to two years in prison. To escape police raids, sorcerers and other fortune tellers began to adapt. “I don’t receive people at my house anymore, I go to their houses,” Adalat explains during a guessing session on the outskirts of Dushanbe.

The woman, with 15 years of experience, swings a simple pearl necklace over some directions scribbled on a piece of paper. He asks the customer questions and mumbles a few words.

“Even in my childhood, nightmares tormented me to help people. But I show my gift only to people close to me,” says the 56-year-old sorceress. His gift, he points out, allows him to reconcile couples or divine the future. The price of his consultancy is free: a few dollars or gold jewelry, but Adalat says he “does not live” on that, but on the money sent to him by his son who works in Russia.

Social inequality

One of her clients, Gulbakhor, “turned to fortune-tellers and healers due to her health problems.” “It’s cheaper than classical medicine, which is very expensive,” the 42-year-old housewife told AFP. Because since the fall of the Soviet Union and civil war in the early 1990s, Tajikistan has remained mired in poverty.

Mekhriguioul Ablezova, a sociology professor at the American University of Central Asia, provides some clues. “The attraction of witchcraft and divination may be related to social inequalities and lack of access to public services,” he says.

“In countries where health or social care systems are limited, people may seek other sources of treatment and support,” he told AFP.

According to the sociologist, repression will not be enough to combat these “traditions and beliefs”, which are “deeply rooted in Central Asia” and even “pre-date the introduction of Islam”.