First it took the village by storm, then the region, and after the press got a hold of the story the entire country it seemed was on its way to Loliondo, a small village in the Rift Valley just north of Mto wa Mbu. Families from Karatu, Arusha, Dar es Salaam, Njombe, and as far south as Lindi and Mtwara were and still are making their journey to see Baba Loliondo, the man with the magical cure.
Baba Loliondo has recently made known his miracle drink which cures everything from muscle aches and pains to malaria to diabetes to HIV/AIDS. That’s right, folks. The HIV/AIDS pandemic has a newfound potential for eradication, at least in Tanzania. And it’s all thanks to Baba Loliondo.
The potion comes from boiling the bark of one variety of the Carissa shrub, and the Maasai have been using the same technique to treat achy muscles and joints for years. One article I read stated that Kenyan scientists found that the roots of the tree could treat gonorrhea and a few other STDs but the findings didn’t seem to be widely publicized. It does seem that the tree has a great deal of medicinal effects, but to go so far as to say it cures HIV/AIDS is something else.
Thousands of people have been flocking to Loliondo to purchase the miracle cure, which must be drank in the village, for a meager 500 shillings. The real cost comes with transport across the country to the village and with securing enough food and water for the trip. Once the newspapers began publishing the story seldom a day has gone by without a mention of Baba Loliondo, meaning nearly everyone in the country knows someone who has traveled to the village. It’s not an easy place to get to and is several kilometers down a rough dirt road, one that once had maybe 30 cars per day passing through and now sees up to 3,500 per day. Vehicles wait in queues for days at a time waiting their turn to see the Baba, living out of the cars, cooking, sleeping, and doing their business on the side of the road. The village ran out of food, then people began selling their livestock, the road deteriorated, and there was a lack of basic facilities. The government declared the area a disaster zone and stepped in to alleviate the situation, to stop any more traffic from coming without first clearing what was already there, and to ensure enough food and water were available, as well as basic facilities.
The road has deteriorated and the government is now putting 1.05 billion shillings into fixing it. The area is in the midst of the rainy season meaning for one car the road is bad enough; if hundreds or thousands of cars use the muddy road every day it’s surely going to deteriorate, cars will be stuck, and the situation won’t get any better. The government has now set up blocks down the road a bit to check out each vehicle, allowing only those with four wheel drive to continue.
Many people have already gone, and more are yet to come. People from my village plan to go on foot. Visitors from East Africa are making their way in. Many people say they don’t believe it can actually cure HIV/AIDS, but they go anyway, saying it can’t hurt. Those that aren’t sick, that don’t have diabetes or malaria or muscle pains or anything at all drink the cure “for strength.” Everyone has been going, from the illiterate to the highly educated, from farmers and herders to judges and politicians. Even some doctors have claimed that the potion has cured their patients but hard medial evidence has yet to be published.
What does this “miracle cure” mean for Africa, for the HIV/AIDS pandemic? If people spend a fortune traveling out there, drinking a magical cure they believe works, how will that effect their lives, the spread of the disease, the treatment that people seek? People are working hard to educate the country, the continent, the world, about HIV/AIDS, and even those that are highly educated are coming to drink the brew. Maybe it really can’t hurt — if people have faith in the cure but also faith in prevention methods, of treatment, of ways to stay healthy and to keep their families healthy, maybe the brew isn’t much of a bump at all. But if people put all of their hope into it, depend solely on the brew to cure their sickness, then it becomes a matter of faith. I don’t doubt the power that faith has in a psychological sense, but in the case of a fatal disease, are people putting themselves in danger, or is faith really the best medicine?
To learn more about Baba Loliondo and his “miracle cure,” search “Loliondo” on two of Tanzania’s English newspapers, The Citizen or Daily News. Kenyan newspapers and even international press has picked up on the story as well.
