A friend of mine, a priest, was threatened by a sangoma. It had to do with his involvement in the townships. Soon after that, he began to find, one by one, dead scorpions deposited in corners around the Church. As this continued, he said, he began to be spooked. Then one night, he returned to his locked rectory, inside a locked compound, pulled back his bed covers, and found a dead scorpion in his bed. He was tearful when he told me. His hands were trembling as he put some dark glasses on. He said: "I carry on. It is hard. It is my duty to God."