Nigeria has the largest number of women in Africa, but if you listen to some people in the country—many of these women, particularly the very beautiful among them, shouldn’t be counted in a census because, well, they are not human. They are mostly marine spirits or Mammy Water in local parlance, serpentine demons, fallen angels or human witches who possess dual citizenship of the underworld where their true allegiance lie. All of these sub-sects are now popularly grouped into the trendy term Karishika.

There are two widely known Karishikas in Nigeria. The first is Karishika, a character in a Nollywood blockbuster movie by the same name. An astonishingly beautiful woman by day and a bloodsucking demon by night, she is sent by the devil to earth to catch successful men, destroy their relationship with their spouse as well as their careers. As instructed by her master, Karishika gets her man, charms him–with her beauty and magical powers–into sending his wife away and proceeds to run him down financially and physically. However she does not fully succeed, as she is stopped in her tracks by the marathon prayers of her captured man’s dumped wife. Attacked by nollywood-esque thunderbolts of prayer, she turns into several kinds of ferocious wild animals, before finally disappearing back to her spirit land to fall and die.

The second Karishika arises in the trendy hip hop jam by the same name, sang by the ladies’ love Falz featuring the Igbo’s favourite son Phyno. The Karishika here is not much different from the one in the movie, they are both damsels at day and demons at night. However, where the earlier Karishika chose to target married successful men, this one is after single men who have just began to succeed big time—characters that Falz and Phyno aptly represent. With funny anecdotes and witty lines, both rappers deliver a prayer to God to save them from the Karishika that is after them. At the tail end of the 4 plus minute song comes the cameo by popular female comedian Chigurl praying for the Karishika to fall and die.

Thanks to the hit song, the word Karishika is popular across all social media platforms so much so that it has its own collection of smileys on BBM. However, just as popular as—or even more than—the groovy music, and the blockbuster movie before it, is the actual belief in the existence, and dare I say pervasiveness, of actual Karishikas. Ask the next Nigerian in a church or at a bar, and there’s a huge possibility that he or she will tell you that there are really many Karishikas out there on the prowl. Many might not use the term Karishika, but what they will describe will have the semblance of either of the two characters as presented in those two works of art.

Certainly, the widely held belief of demons taking the form of beautiful ladies to chase after and pull down successful or succeeding men has long existed in Nigeria before either of the Karishikas. In fact, this belief fed into the conceptualization of both fictions and several other Nollywood movies of similar theme, like the classic Nneka the Pretty Serpent. However, apart from inspiring fictional stories, the belief also represents a real societal depiction of the womenfolk as parasitic leeches on men and the major cause of a man’s downfall and damnation. Virtually every adviser to a Nigerian man, from his parents to his pastor, friends to even chance acquaintances such as a one-time co-passenger in a public transport, routinely warns him to beware of the kind of women he “carries” lest he falls into the hands a marine spirit. The woman that he finally hooks up with is also usually tested for demonic possession, ogbanjeness or the existence of a spirit husband. Interestingly, the man is hardly ever put to such rigorous spiritual assessments.

Oftentimes, the more beautiful the woman is, the more suspicious people are of her ‘dual citizenship’ with the underworld. It is why “Pretty” was the crucial element in the plot of Nneka the Pretty Serpent. In the movie, Nneka uses her beauty to charm her prey, before actually unleashing her demonic powers. In Nigeria, a woman’s beauty is the cause célèbre of a man’s immoral actions. Thus, when a man commits fornication or adultery with a woman, her beauty is the cause and not his desire. If he spends all his money on her, her charm is the cause and not his profligacy. Should he impregnate her then its because of her seductiveness and not his libido. And if he dumps his wife for her, she is the home-breaker not him. Then comes her demonic possession or citizenship of the marine world, as the cause of their childless marriage, the harbinger of her husband’s misfortune, or worse still, the instigator of his death. The latter is why the story of women forced to drink the water used in washing their dead husband remains true in Nigeria.

Ironically, Nigerian women are not missing–and some would argue even more present—in the front row of this demonization of the female folk. In both Karishikas, as well as in Nneka the pretty serpent, it is a fellow woman that discovers the witch-of-a-woman and leads the campaign to destroy her, a role perfectly captured in Chigurl screaming ‘Karishika fall and die o!” It is in real life, where there’s no script writer to make up the whole plot, that this holy crusade against Karishikas bares its disturbing face. Wives battle concubines, girlfriends tackle side-chicks, mothers faceoff with daughter-in-laws, and all this time none of them takes a look at the man and his major role in all the events. Instead, resources are poured into—the offertory box of a church, goatskin bag of a juju priest, or pockets of chiefs and elders—making sure the Karishika falls and dies. Tragically, sometimes she really falls and dies while all the accusations against her remain more false than fiction.

Unfortunately, popular fictions like the two Karishikas do not serve as catharsis for this societal blaming of women for the fall of men. Instead they further entrench it, not just as popular sentiment, but also a social norm. The consequence enables Nigerian men to revel in the transfer of blame and guilt for their misfortune, like Adam, and more Nigerian women cursed and condemned for a man’s fall, like Eve.