Matsikirira: Wrestling in the Spirit

 

Matsikirira: Wrestling in the Spirit

Have you ever woken up paralyzed, your heart pounding, unable to scream for help? In my Shona culture, we call this matsikirira, a chilling phenomenon often linked to bad spirits or unresolved spiritual battles. Growing up, I never imagined I'd face something so terrifying—or that it would push me toward profound spiritual transformation.

It all started after my grandmother's passing. Her death left a void, but it also opened a door—one I never asked for. I began to see her in hallucinations, not just in dreams but as though she were alive, walking among us. Nobody else could see her, but her presence felt real. Around the same time, I experienced fainting spells. My family took me to countless doctors. They ran tests, including ECG scans, to figure out what was wrong, but there was no explanation.

The fear gripped my family as much as it did me. I remember my grandfather organizing Wednesday prayer meetings at home, gathering church elders to pray for me. They knew this was more than a physical ailment—it was spiritual warfare.

What followed was a string of bad dreams, haunting episodes of matsikirira, and chilling déjà vu moments where I’d see my dreams play out in real life. These dreams left me exhausted, fighting an unseen enemy night after night. My grandmother’s voice would echo in my dreams, urging me to fight back:"Urimukundi mwanangu... UnaJesu mumoyo mako muzukuru. Muvengi aripabasa, asi usamufadze.""You are a conqueror, my child... You have Jesus in your heart, my grandchild. The enemy is at work, but do not give him joy."

I’ll be honest—I didn’t always understand what she meant. But as the battle worsened, I realized I was neglecting my spiritual life. My focus was on material things, ignoring the whisper of faith calling me back home.

At one point, a friend invited me to their church. I was skeptical—being born Adventist, the idea of stepping into another denomination felt like betrayal. But desperation has a way of humbling you. The pastor at that church didn’t mince his words:

"You’re gifted, but you’re running from it. You have the ability to sense and see things others cannot. This is not a curse; it’s a calling."

I was dismissive, brushing off his words as the usual church-talk. Yet, as I reflected, I realized there were moments I’d warned people about events I had sensed—an accident, a bad relationship—and my warnings came true. It wasn’t coincidence.

One night, everything changed. My grandmother appeared again in a vivid, lucid dream. This time, she was firm. She told me I had the power to break the chains of generational curses. But first, I had to realign my life with Christ. Her words shook me: "Live right. A Christlike life. Guard your spiritual realm—don’t let in energies or people who don’t belong."

That dream was my wake-up call. I repented, asked God for forgiveness, and made faith my foundation. Slowly but surely, I saw changes. My battles with matsikirira faded, replaced with a peace I’d never known. My prayers became conversations with God—real, raw, and powerful.

And as I grew spiritually, I noticed something else: my mindset, my choices, even the way I dressed and spoke began to shift. I became more intentional about protecting my energy, more discerning about who I allowed into my space.

Looking back, I see that matsikirira wasn’t just a spiritual attack—it was a call to arms, a battle I needed to face to grow. If you’re fighting something similar, remember: your spirit is more powerful than you think.

“The greatest battles are not fought with fists, but on our knees in prayer.”

May this story inspire you to dig deep, fight back, and reclaim your peace.