When Natalie Sibanda boarded a flight back to the United Kingdom after her December trip to Zimbabwe, she carried more than just gifts and memories in her luggage. She brought with her a story so chilling, so deeply rooted in her homeland’s spiritual traditions, that it has left both her and her family seeking answers—and help—from both medical and spiritual communities.

A Nurse’s Journey Home

Natalie Sibanda is by all accounts a success story. Born and raised in Mhondoro, a rural district in Zimbabwe, she grew up in a tight-knit family, guided by the wisdom of her grandmother and the resilience of her mother. Years of hard work and determination saw her rise through the ranks of nursing, eventually relocating to the UK, where she now works in one of Birmingham’s busiest hospitals.

For Natalie, the journey back to Zimbabwe in December was supposed to be a time of joy and reconnection. She looked forward to the warmth of family, the laughter of cousins, and the simple pleasures of rural life—far removed from the relentless pace of her NHS ward. But what awaited her in her grandmother’s bedroom would change her life in ways she could never have anticipated.

The Night of the Attack

It was a humid summer night in Mhondoro when Natalie, exhausted from the day’s travel, settled into her grandmother’s bedroom. The house was filled with the comforting sounds of family—distant laughter, the clatter of pots, the low hum of a radio playing old mbira tunes. She drifted into sleep, feeling safe and at home.

But in the dead of night, Natalie awoke to an inexplicable sense of dread. “It felt like the air was heavy, like something was pressing down on my chest,” she recalls in an exclusive interview. “I tried to move, but I couldn’t. It was as if I was paralyzed.”

Suddenly, she felt a sharp, burning sensation on her legs and arms. Through half-closed eyes, she glimpsed what she later described as a “shadowy, shifting figure”—neither fully human nor wholly animal—looming over her. In Zimbabwean folklore, such an entity is known as a lemma lemma: a malevolent spirit or witch said to prey on the vulnerable while they sleep.

Natalie’s screams brought her grandmother running. By the time the family burst into the room, the shadow had vanished, leaving Natalie trembling and covered in scratches and bruises.

The Aftermath: Seeking Answers

The days that followed were a blur of confusion, fear, and pain. Natalie’s wounds refused to heal, and she was plagued by nightmares and a persistent sense of unease. Local elders were quick to identify the attack as the work of a lemma lemma—a supernatural assailant believed to be sent by envious neighbors or distant enemies.

“I’ve always respected our traditions, but I never thought I would become part of such a story,” Natalie admits. “I’m a nurse. I believe in science, in medicine. But what happened to me defies explanation.”

Her family sought the help of local spiritual healers, known as n’angas, who performed cleansing rituals and prescribed herbal remedies. Yet the symptoms persisted, and as her flight back to the UK approached, Natalie worried that the spirit might follow her across continents.

A Nurse Torn Between Two Worlds

Back in Birmingham, Natalie resumed her duties at the hospital, but colleagues noticed a change. She was quieter, more withdrawn, and seemed haunted by something she refused to discuss. Eventually, she confided in a close friend, who encouraged her to seek both medical and psychological help.

Medical examinations revealed no underlying conditions that could explain her persistent fatigue, insomnia, or the mysterious marks on her body. Therapists suggested she might be suffering from sleep paralysis or trauma-induced hallucinations—common enough among people under extreme stress.

But Natalie remains unconvinced. “I know what I saw, what I felt. This was not just a bad dream or a panic attack. Something attacked me that night.”

The Broader Context: Lemma Lemma in Zimbabwean Culture

The tale of the lemma lemma is not new in Zimbabwe. For generations, rural communities have whispered of these malevolent spirits—sometimes described as witches, other times as shape-shifting beasts—that attack their victims in the night. The symptoms are always similar: paralysis, physical scratches, and a lingering sense of dread.

Anthropologists suggest that such stories often arise in times of social tension or personal crisis, serving as a way for communities to explain the unexplainable. But for those who have experienced it firsthand, the terror is all too real.

A Plea for Help

Natalie’s story has resonated with many in the Zimbabwean diaspora. After sharing her ordeal on social media, she received messages from others who claim to have had similar experiences—both in Zimbabwe and abroad. Some offered advice, others shared prayers, and a few recommended spiritual healers in the UK who specialize in African traditions.

Despite the support, Natalie admits she still feels isolated. “It’s hard to talk about this in the UK. People look at you like you’re crazy. But in Zimbabwe, everyone knows someone who has been attacked by a lemma lemma. It’s part of our reality.”

She has since reached out to both medical professionals and spiritual leaders, hoping to find a path to healing that bridges the gap between science and tradition.

A Story That Transcends Borders

Natalie Sibanda’s ordeal is more than just a tale of supernatural terror. It is a story about the complexities of identity, the collision of tradition and modernity, and the challenges faced by those who straddle two worlds.

As she continues her search for answers, Natalie hopes her story will encourage others to speak up about their own experiences—no matter how unbelievable they may seem.

“I don’t have all the answers,” she says. “But I know I’m not alone. And maybe, by sharing my story, I can help others find the help they need too.”

If you or someone you know has experienced something similar, resources are available both in the UK and Zimbabwe. Don’t suffer in silence—reach out, and let your story be heard.