I am the child who always returns…
A shadow on the edge of faith
In the face of knowing and unknowing
Yet I am here, an enigma of belief
Challenging what is known,
With each breath I take, I question
What lies beyond the veil of sight?
(Wole Soyinka, “Abiku”, 1967)
How do we know what we know is true? This question has always baffled me, especially when viewed through the lens of the Basel Mission’s (BM) interaction with indigenous beliefs in Ghana. This inquiry drives my investigation into the role of missionary doctors like Rudolf Fisch and Friedrich Hey, who dismissed local healing practices as primitive, questioning the very legitimacy of Ghanaian beliefs. This project on the historical research about the BM has opened up more questions to me than answers, challenging my understanding of knowledge and belief. This already started with my endeavor to “Reimagine Paul Mohenu”, the so-called fetish priest who is said to have become one of the BM’s most ardent supporters in the nineteenth century (see LINK TO PREVIOUS TEXT BY NTOW), the complexities of cultural transition and religious imposition, as the Basel missionaries sought to guide Mohenu towards Christianity.
Essentially, the historical context of the BM doctors in Ghana provides a backdrop for examining the tension between traditional beliefs and the imposition of Christianity on indigenous people. The reports by Basel missionary doctors Friedrich Hey, who was a medical doctor with the BM in the nineteenth century, and Rudolf Fisch, who was a Swiss missionary and doctor serving with the BM in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, reveal the disdainful opinion of BM medical doctors towards indigenous healing and practices. Their accounts, documenting the challenges of addressing bubonic plague outbreak (die Pest)[1] and the integration of western medicine on January 13, 1909, make lucid the tension between different systems of knowledge and healing. According to historian Linda Ratschiller, medical missionaries often occupied a dual role as healers and enforcers of European beliefs.[2] This duality illuminates the dismissive attitudes documented by Fisch and Hey, where traditional healing was sidelined not for inefficacy, but due to deep-seated cultural prejudice. European missionary doctors and colonial medical personnel often approached local beliefs with skepticism, dismissing them as primitive or ineffective.[3] However, this was not unidirectional, as local communities were wary of foreign interventions and responded with resistance and doubt.[4]
Dr. Hey’s report particularly reflects bias, portraying traditional healers and their methods as obstacles to progress rather than as legitimate alternative medical practices. In his address to the people of Odumase in 1896, Hey stated, “we know you are in error with your idols, we can’t watch you worship your useless idols, we ask you to refrain from your idols and return to the true God.”[5] This statement vividly illustrates the dismissive attitude toward traditional spiritual practices. His assertion reflects the supposed superiority of western religious values which missionaries sought to impose on local populations. Hey viewed indigenous belief systems as obstacles to enlightenment, by categorizing traditional beliefs as “useless idols”, he undermined the cultural and spiritual foundations of the community. Prejudicial comments such as Hey’s were common in colonial narratives.
I believe Hey’s attempt to “save” the local people reveals a fundamental misunderstanding and lack of respect for the local beliefs he encountered. Again, how does he know these people of Odumase were in error with their deity? His surety clearly stems from the claim of truth and superiority inherent in the missionaries’ religious outlook. Hey ended his statement by saying that “everybody gets sick in this country”. Later, he reported that the people accepted his words as “good”, and asserted that they loved him and believed he loved them back. There is a flagrant potential discrepancy between his report and the reality of the situation, when considering the curious contradiction between his assertion about the people’s love for him and his earlier statements about their beliefs. The love he reported was reciprocated seems more to me as a strategic embellishment designed to portray his interactions in a positive light in a context where missionary efforts were justified by claims of benevolent intentions; his comments on his interlocutors’ adherence to existing beliefs, however, stands in bleak contrast to such statements.
The skepticism towards other faiths and practices, as evidenced in the reports of doctors Fisch and Hey, is illuminated by an image I encountered in the museum in Gerlingen (a former hotspot of pietism near Stuttgart, Germany).

Image 1 illustrates the pietist “broad and narrow path”, symbolizing the divergent paths of spiritual redemption and destruction. The painting shows a broad path, which leads to “death and damnation”, and a narrow and steep path towards “life and bliss”. While the broad path contains illustrations of various sins and vices, including adultery, theft, violence, gambling, and drinking, the decisive factor that determines whether one is on the path to hell or to heaven is written across the central signpost: Only those who believe in Jesus Christ will see eternal life. Such an image is emblematic of the pietist influence on missionary work, which operated on a dichotomy between salvation and damnation. The pietist image here symbolizes more than a religious doctrine; it encapsulates an institutional worldview that positioned European Christianity as the sole path to salvation. This framework governed the BM doctors like Hey, whose disdain for indigenous practices was not just personal but reflected an institutionalized belief that traditional beliefs led to spiritual ruin. This moralistic attitude was mirrored in the views of the missionaries toward the people of Ghana, whom they believed “were in error with their idols.” With this idea rooted in pietism, the question that arises is “How do we know what we know is true?” This calls for critical reflection on the implications of one’s own beliefs at the expense of understanding and respecting the spiritual paths of others.
Conclusively, in my exploration of the BM doctors and the indigenous people of Ghana, I am struck by these two primary threads: the disdainful opinion of the BM medical doctors and the path to salvation offered through Christianity which seem at first to diverge. Yet on a closer examination, they reveal the larger institutional framework within which BM’s pietist values and medical agendas were constructed. Through this research project, I have come to understand that the question “How do we know what we know is true?” is more relevant than ever. It challenges us to scrutinize the assumptions underlying our beliefs and practices, both past and present. Yet, it is also another reminder of the complexities of cultural and religious exchanges where narrow-mindedness can either hinder understanding or open avenues for meaningful dialogue.
Personally, this research project has reaffirmed my belief that true knowledge arises from a willingness to question, to engage in open-minded exploration. It is only through such an approach that we can move beyond the limitations of exclusivity towards a more inclusive and respectful appreciation of humanity.