In parts of sub-Saharan Africa, spiritual leaders known as rainmakers are facing escalating violence, including physical assault and even death, as climate change makes weather patterns increasingly unpredictable.
Farmers, whose livelihoods depend heavily on consistent rainfall, are turning on rainmakers when their rituals fail to produce the desired results. David Nabutsilili, a rainmaker from eastern Uganda, recounted an incident where angry farmers, upset by excessive rain that flooded their gardens, beat him and broke his femur. Despite sometimes still relying on his spiritual guidance, these farmers can turn violent if their expectations are not met, forcing Nabutsilili to flee his home for safety.
"People beat us because sometimes the rain is too much, or there is no rain," Nabutsilili told The Associated Press. He explained that these spiritual leaders have long performed rituals to ask deities for rain, but the growing unpredictability of weather due to climate change has created immense pressure and unrealistic expectations.
In South Sudan, the situation has become more dire. At least two rainmakers have been killed in the past two years. In 2024, Solomon Oture was buried alive during a dry spell, and in June, Albino Lobillia was abducted and buried alive by villagers facing a prolonged drought. "There was no food, and animals began dying in large numbers because of the drought," said Madelina Tito, a relative of Lobillia. "They held meetings and decided he should be killed because, according to them, he had refused to command the rain."
A study highlighted the severity of the climate shifts, noting a significant drop in the average number of rainy days in the Kapoeta region of South Sudan. Communities there have experienced alternating crop failures due to floods and droughts, leading many to blame rainmakers for their misfortunes.
"It's becoming worse and worse," said Matthew Oromo, a government official in Lobillia's home area. "People are not aware of what is happening. They don't understand this issue of climate change."
While no Ugandan rainmakers have been killed, some have been assaulted, and authorities have received complaints against them for allegedly obtaining money under false pretenses. Rainmakers like Nabutsilili can charge fees for their services, ranging from around $13 to $260. Refusal to refund payments after perceived failures can lead to violence.
Unlike other spiritual figures like Christian priests or traditional healers, rainmakers are sometimes viewed with suspicion, with accusations that they can deliberately cause rain for malicious reasons or to spite communities. Some incidents, such as rain disrupting construction work only at a specific site, have fueled these suspicions.
Despite the risks, many rainmakers continue their practices, often facing internal rivalries and competition. Kilindon Simiyu, another rainmaker from Nabutsilili's village, described the difficulty in reliably summoning rain. "We are having difficulties because, sometimes when it is supposed to rain, it doesn't rain," Simiyu said. "So we use our powers to try and bring it, but it doesn't come as it used to come in those days."