In her video work Balkan Erotic Epic, performance artist Marina Abramovic narrates a series of Balkan folk traditions tied to sexuality and fertility. In one, a woman seeking a man’s love is instructed to place a small fish inside her vagina overnight. By morning, once the fish has died, she grinds it into a powder, mixes it into his coffee, and serves it to him. The belief states that if he drinks it, he will never leave her.

This is one of many rituals related to the Vlachs of Eastern Serbia and the surrounding borders. The Vlachs, an ethnic minority, have largely assimilated into other cultures like Serbian, but preserved their alphabet-less language and whimsical folklore across generations. Their spiritual practices combine Orthodox Christianity with pre-Christian pagan beliefs, incorporating both black (bad) and white (good) magic, as well as fantastical rituals marking life’s key transitions such as birth, adulthood, sexual maturity, and death.

Eastern Serbia feels like a place suspended in mystery, where magic’s wisdom is sought out and protected

One Vlach-derived superstition, still observed in Serbia today, is that new mothers and their babies should not leave the house for 40 days after birth. While its origins in modern practice are blurry (my mom did this and says it’s what’s considered necessary, but who the deciding authority on this is unclear), in Vlach tradition, this window of time is when the soul is in flux, leaving both a mother and child vulnerable to evil spirits who can bring bad luck for life upon contact. Other rituals occur in physical spaces like rivers, forests, and crossroads, which makes it seem connected to both the human-made and natural worlds, and the transition between the two as well.

In these beliefs, women are powerful figures who are said to inherit “shamanistic talents” through the maternal line. They keep these rituals private, shared within families and within regions, but rarely outwardly with external guests or anthropologists. Eastern Serbia feels like a place suspended in mystery, where magic’s wisdom is sought out and protected.

Unlike astrology and tarot readings, which are abundant online, Vlach magic still feels undiscovered

While the region remains a focal point for Vlach magic, some spiritual practitioners have moved their talents online, advertising their supernormal capabilities on Facebook pages or sparse, confusing websites. They promise spells and rituals to help ward away black magic and curses, but perhaps bafflingly, the only way to reach them is through WhatsApp or Viber. They don’t have their pricing listed, either, which made me wonder if they were doing this out of their own good will, if pricing comes up later, or if it was a different type of scheme removed from magic rituals altogether.

I was interested to see if I could connect with a practitioner to learn more about how this form of magic, which is so rooted in secrecy and in a physical place, could be practiced through text. Unlike astrology and tarot readings, which are abundant online, Vlach magic still feels undiscovered, and it provided an intriguing opportunity to connect with my heritage through my mother tongue. Language and these customs were shared in my household, despite growing up miles away in the United States.

I started my search about a year ago, when I bookmarked the website “svet-vidovitih.com” which served as a sort of directory of some of these practitioners across the Balkans. Since then, the page has gone down and many of the phone numbers I tried weren’t working. All the practitioners go by “Vidovita” (which means clairvoyant) and then their first name, which makes finding additional ones easy.

I found Vidovita Zorka’s very bouncy website on Google. On it, she makes the claim that she is the best clairvoyant in all of the Balkans who was born with a gift and has been practicing professionally since she was 20. She writes that she’ll never promise what she cannot fulfill, and that you can ask her all your questions by phone at a time that suits you.

I sent her a message. I asked if I could speak to her about her practice for an article I’m writing. She said yes. I asked about her experience with Vlach magic and she says she does rituals with Vlach magic. She then directed me to her website and said that everything is listed there. I sent a few more questions asking more specifically about her background and involvement with this practice and she stopped responding. Her website said she would never promise what she couldn’t fulfill, but maybe answering specific questions about the magic rituals themselves weren’t meant to be shared.

The website reminded me more of an online casino’s branding than one for a spiritual guru

Next, I tried Vidovita Marijana. I wrote to her asking if I could interview her and she said no because she doesn’t have time and to ask someone else. Before moving on, I decided to change my approach. Perhaps a real question that these practitioners may be able to use their expertise on would provide more insight than a straightforward journalistic approach. Vidovita Marijana’s website lists her services: Black magic, Vlach magic, Arabic Magic, Voodoo Magic, Muslim Magic, Roma magic; spells and curses; the return of a loved one; uniting lovers; preventing infidelity; love magic and rituals; addiction problems; problems with insomnia and nervousness; protective amulets; and resolving financial problems. She writes in Serbo-Croatian, “These are just some of the problems troubling people today; everyone has their own story. Call me, and I will carefully listen to you and, with the help of my gift and rituals, resolve everything that troubles you.”

I told her that I’d like to consult her for spiritual guidance, too. I said that I feel like I’m waiting for something but I don’t know what it is and I wondered if she could tell me anything about that. She said, “No, I’m not God or Jesus.”

Finally, I came across Vidovita Hodžinica Lejla, whose website reminds me more of an online casino’s branding than one for a spiritual guru. Her website writes that she comes from a family that has, for decades and generations, dedicated their life to helping people through ancient magical rituals. The term “Hodžinica” suggested possible connection to Islamic traditions, though it may also reflect a blending of practices which is common in Balkan spiritual customs where local folklore often intersects with religious belief. Lejla’s Facebook page has what appear to be AI-generated videos with a narration about her services (Is your heart broken and do you want to bring back the love of your life? Vidovita Hodžinica Lejla has for generations helped people find the path to love and happiness. Through special and trusted rituals, your loved one will return in 3 to 5 days! Everything is done with discretion and dedication..) paired with imagery, at one point a 3D Chef.

I was intrigued by the mix of customization and automation in Vidovita Hodžinica Lejla’s materials. While their overall impression was one removed from nuanced cultural heritage, it seemed that someone had taken time to write and produce all the content from scratch. Her WhatsApp bio links out to a separate Facebook account with similar content but a different name, Hodžinica Delila.

I messaged her on WhatsApp with the same question, “I feel like I’m waiting for something but I don’t know what it is and I wondered if you could tell me anything about this?” We exchanged a few messages and she said she’d need my name and a photo taken with where I was asking the question from because of the long-distance forecasting. This seemed suspicious. The next day I received a call from that phone number but I couldn’t hear anything. I decided it would be best to not talk to this number anymore, and perhaps, to end my search.

When these mystical practices shift to digital spaces, the tie back to an ancestral practice seems diluted

When this exchange happened, I felt skeptical and a bit unsettled. Perhaps this is how people feel when they search for Vlach magic in Eastern Serbia, caught between belief and doubt. Black magic is deeply feared there, its rituals elaborate and unscientific, yet definitive of a cultural history that endures through word of mouth, existing permanently because people continue to believe in it.

When these mystical practices shift to digital spaces, the tie back to an ancestral practice seems diluted, fractured by AI avatars and missing phone numbers. The messiness from the broken links, the ghosting, and the vibe of the last practitioner, reflected the elusiveness of the real Vlach Magic. The gatekeeping felt like an appropriate translation, though not in the way you might expect; both the online and offline versions remain difficult to grasp, hard to access, and impossible to fully rationalize.

Vlach magic continues to exist at a distance, passed through generationally, and in spaces that cross but don’t necessarily lead anywhere. In my search, a formal inquiry led nowhere, but a more personal question brought me a bit closer to an answer. Ironically, the most responsive practitioner had no human face at all.

Perhaps the ritual of seeking guidance isn’t just about what you’re trying to find, but about making peace with the uncertainty of raising a question at all

Perhaps the ritual of seeking guidance isn’t just about what you’re trying to find, but about making peace with the uncertainty of raising a question at all. Asking is like lifting a mirror and observing your reflection: how do you feel about what you’re requesting? This question is like a reminder that belief and connection aren’t meant to be learned or studied, but intimately felt first hand.