I will never forget the 26th August 2017, a day which saw my small hood of Estcourt reveal the biggest shock of all. That day I subconsciously believed would have been a normal Saturday, I would have stayed indoors to play my playstation two the whole day. I would not wash or even brush my teeth. However, I was grossly mistaken as the events that would transpire for the day would see my monotomous existence turn upside down.
Exactly at 1pm, after losing a FIFA match on my playstation I could hear unusual noises and screams. I sat comfortably in my room and then my brother barged into my room.
“Dammit idiot! What the hell do you want?” I screamed, as he gave me a shock.
“Hey!” my brother said, as he stopped short trying to catch his breath.
“People were eating each other,” he finally said.
“You mean hitting each other?” I asked, as I tried to make out his confusion, but the prospect of a fight brought some excitement to me.
“No D-Boy, a lady was eaten,” repeated my brother who stormed out my room. I did not know that to think as I instinctively went to see the commotion.
I have never in my 23 years of living in Estcourt seen such a frenzy, people by the hundreds were flocking to the streets. My reclusive nature could not even stop me from curiously following the maddening crowd. There I could hear only snippets of what had transpired “human flesh eaten”. Others jokingly made references to the Wrong-turn movie franchise, yet some couldn’t grasp what happened.
Marching to the house that was said to be the place where the human flesh was kept. There was no surprise when the house was discovered to be that of an inyanga witch doctor. The horror I saw can not be described – fear and panic still plagues my inner-most core. I shudder and tremble to recollect the scenes I saw. Human arms on hooks hung upon the wall of the house and human organs were pickled in jars.
Forgive me as I compose myself, the tears I’m forced to wipe away as I reminisce these nightmarish thoughts.
In continuation, the people in that house were brutally beaten in the most severest form of mob justice. Lynching, a thing hardly used in South Africa, would have been used had it not been for the intervention of the police.
Apparently one of the human flesh eaters gave a blatant confession that he was, “tired of eating human meat”. The news of this insidious act had spread like wild-fire. Within hours camera crews and journalist flocked to the scene, each one interviewing whomever they could.
I exited the pandemonium that ensued, I could not take any more and besides that I was beginning to smell from not having taken a bath. There I was sitting in front of the television and no surprise every single channel was speaking about the events that had transpired in Estcourt. The news of this event, however, was not only restricted to South Africa, but international news channels had also given this event attention. One thing was for certain, people will think twice in making a wrong turn into the community of Estcourt.