Sexual healing

If you have never seen those posters and pamphlets of traditional healers/herbalists with funny names advertising services to help men perform better in bed and women lose weight and “look sexy for their partners”, then you must not live in Johannesburg. If you don’t stop right next to one advert at a traffic light, I can guarantee you will be handed the pamphlet version at another.

If the promises of these healers are anything to go by, then Jo’burg men have absolutely no excuse to disappoint in bed; and I can safely generalise because there are a whole lot of them popping up everywhere—not that many people can escape them.

From Professor LS Lutta & Hajati Marriam to 3Cent Ohlangene to those anonymous ones who can only provide their cellphone numbers—perhaps because the ad space they were sold in the paper was too small and they had to make a name-or-number flip of the coin—there are promises to correct everything from a “potent libido” to “early ejaculation” to “poor erections” and “small sizes”.

So reads the advert of Prof and Co: “They are highly rated healers in the world who have helped many fulfil their life’s purposes and destiny with the help of spiritual powers and the knowledge they gained from the University of herbalists in Dar-es-salaam [sic] and the experience of Havard University of Witchcraft in the USA.”

Who, in their right mind, would pass on the opportunity to get healed by world-class providers of a service that one would have to go to Harvard to get training for? Their service is guaranteed, so all I have to do is call the number and wave goodbye to my problems. Oh, and “All Races Are Welcome”. They have such an embracing nature, don’t they?

Another advert promises the guarantee of a “power pill for men” that is a “libido booster for stronger and longer-lasting erections”, and has a cellphone number for prospective customers who want more information on the product or for a postal order. I suppose you can only pay by credit card, since they can only post it to you. I tried the number, and there was no answer. I can only hope prospective clients actually manage to get assistance.

Anyway, back to Prof and Co. There are 12 bullet points—a list of ailments and social ills that they can heal. Among them are serious conditions like diabetes and high blood pressure, and it made me think why those men in lab coats who’ve always claimed to know everything could keep a secret like this from us—there really is a cure for these ailments! On the other side of the same pamphlet is an assurance to “help bring back your lost lover”; and if your boss is always picking other people for promotions, then look no further than Prof and Co.

I’m all for promoting the free market and getting the average South African empowered. I want to get the man on the street to a better place—even though that means I’m starting to sound like the current Standard Bank advert. But if Prof and Co want me knocking on their door for help, they’ve got to convince me of their authenticity. I mean really, Havard? Dar-es-salaam? If I’m going to go for alternative help, it’s going to have to be with someone who can at least spell the name of one of the world’s most famous universities.

Maybe I’m peeved because I don’t fall within their target market. But even if I did, would I care that their “experience” was obtained at “Havard”?