Credo Mutwa - Biography



Credo Mutwa

Credo Mutwa began his life in Zululand on July 21 – 1921. He has heard about his origins and ancestral history from his father, because of the influence on his life for the most part of it. Followed by the great influenza outbreak, Credo’s father had to reallocate to save whatever was left of his family. His wife and several children had already died in South Africa.

It was 1920, just one year before Credo’s birth, when his father met a young Zulu girl. She wasn’t Christian and still practiced the religion of the old zulu tribes, and that’s where the problems started. Credo’s father had to convince his wife to embrace Christianity as her new religion - Otherwise the white missionaries would never approve of the marriage.

However, on Credo’s mother side, the family wasn’t inclined on letting their daughter go and get married to a Christian man. Her father had just been involved in the wars with the English and was of the view that Christians were barbaric thieves who stole Africa at gunpoint. Mutwa sometimes recalls his grandfather as he used to say, “I cannot allow my child to become a Christian. These Christians are a race of thieves, of liars, and murderers, who stole our country from us at sword point and at gunpoint. I would rather die than see a Christ worshipping Christian within the stockade of my village. Never!"

Little did he know that the couple was so much intensely in love that the Zulu girl was already impregnated with a child, who was later named as Credo Mutwa. Since the couple’s sides never agreed to them getting married, they did not have a choice except to part ways. The father vanished for the time being and the Zulu girl was made to return to her native village, where she faced a cold response.

The Zulu’s found it a great shame and dishonor for any child to be born out of wedlock. Hence, Credo’s mother had to live in a nearby village at her aunts, where she gave birth to him later on. After a couple of years, the father allowed his daughter to return, for he loved her dearly. But Credo was always despised, which is why he was sent to one of his father’s younger brothers who came all the way from the Natal South Coast to meet the child.

“Remove this disgrace from my home, Christian fellow!” the grandfather said to Mutwa’s uncle, “And tell your brother that if I ever set eyes on him, I will make him suffer bitterly for what he did to my daughter. I will seize him and kill him very slowly indeed. Tell him that.”

At the age of 14, Mutwa was sent to school. He couldn’t attend classes earlier because of his father’s nature of job; it took them from one town to another. From 1935 to 1937, Credo and his family had to move to different places, due to their father’s ongoing building profession. He settled down in the Transvaal for a long time, which is where Credo pursued his education properly.

1937 was also a year of shock and trauma because a gang of mine workers, who sodomized the young boy outside of a mine compound. Young Mutwa was left scared and didn’t come out of the covers for a few weeks. Thinking that he might be “sick”, the family took him to various white doctors for examination but to no avail.

It was then that it was decided for Mutwa to be taken back to the Zulu village whence he came from. The same grandfather lovingly took the boy in and cared for him as if he was one of their own. Where the white doctors failed, Mutwa’s grandfather distinctively succeeded. From then onwards, different questions started plaguing Credo Mutwa’s mind:

Were our ancestors really the savages that quiet missionaries would have us believe they were?
Were we Africans really a race of primitives who possessed no knowledge at all before the white man came to Africa?

Other queries had also made their way to this young individual’s mind and soul, which convinced him to become a shaman healer. At the hands of a young Songoma, known as Myrna, Credo Mutwa was taken into the initiation by his grandfather. When Mutwa’s family in Transvaal learned of his conversion, they disowned him. Hence he was on his own, a youth who’d move from one place to another, in search of jobs and seeking to help others like him.

During those times, Africa was undergoing great change. Old people were submitting themselves to death, of poverty and illness. And so, Africa’s traditions and culture was also waning off into the thin air. The Africa that Mutwa once used to know, it had simple gone forever. He decided to preserve his past, his future and his homeland’s cultural heritage. That’s why, he thought of becoming an author, as writing books, journals, essays and letters would be the best way to save everything forever.

Mutwa embarked on an epic quest to seek loan for novel publications and to help other black people like himself. He was refused by a lot of lending organizations, until 1975 granted him permission and fund to establish a living museum. As much as Mutwa was hailed for the living museum idea, he was also criticized by several black communities for cooperating with the apartheid regime and for glamorizing the Soweto ghetto.

Fast forward several years later and you’ll see Mutwa on the run to save his people from losing connection to their roots. He traveled a lot; he’d go to South Asia, South Africa and other nomadic regions of the world – not to advertise for his museum or books, but to help people as a healer. He took pride in the fact that Africans were once a great nation. They founded the great lodges and kingdoms in Cambodia; they were the ones who first saluted the Chinese emperor. But now, after the South African liberation, things have changed a lot. Mutwa once said that it hurts him immensely to see Africans slaughter each other in the streets of South Africa, for basic life commodities.

He also gets bogged down by the thought of seeing all the young Africans, who’re established in the U.S. and Europe. He thinks that the foreign education is converting all the young minds into Afrofobes, who hate and despise their motherland – thinking that they were all a bunch of crazy people. Mutwa was probably right, the current generation doesn’t believe in Zulu Shamans and Witch Doctors as much as the older generations did.

Credo Mutwa lost his first born son, to the knives of black activists. People sometimes regarded him as a perpetrator and a brainwasher, but all he was trying to do was help others in getting back to their nativity. But in his opinion, these incidents are also filled with details of deception that was done unto him by the hands of white folks. There was a time when this author was cheated by his white associates, who robbed him of millions of Rand of money that he earned from his books. He also lost his wife in 1960, to the guns of white folks, which makes him a victim of both communities.

Some of Mutwa’s most prestigious work is appended below:

Zulu Shaman: Dreams, Prophecies, and Mysteries (Mutwa, Credo Vusa'mazulu,)
Indaba My Children: African Folktales by Credo Vusa'mazulu Mutwa (Feb 5, 1999)
Song of the Stars: The Lore of a Zulu Shaman by Credo Vusa'Mazulu Mutwa, Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa, and Stephen Larsen (May 2000)
My People: Writings of a Zulu Witchdoctor by Credo Vusa'mazulu Mutwa (Feb 25, 1971)
Children of the Matrix: How an Inter dimensional Race has Controlled the World for Thousands of Years-and Still Does by David Icke (Apr 1, 2001)
Vusamazulu Credo Mutwa: Zulu High Sanusi (Profiles in Healing series) by Bradford Keeney PhD (Apr 1, 2002)
Isilwane, the Animal by Credo Mutwa and Bowen Boshier (1996)

To this day, this author and epic historian is continuing with his effort to enlighten his nation. He once said, “I am not seeking anybody’s sympathy when I am telling you this; I just want you all to know who and what Credo Mutwa is. I am one of the scums of this earth, a creature dejected and ridiculed by university professors. Professors, who later came sneaking into my home seeking the very information that they ridiculed me for revealing. I am a black man who has every reason to be bitter and angry. But somehow I cannot get myself to be angry. You cannot be angry at the ignorant. You cannot but pity the self-destructive.”