In grade eleven, the following year, I had to put my schooling on hold so I could focus on my calling. I’d later found out that I had a calling of being a sangoma. I would see things and while at school, I would have episodes like fainting and causing mayhem in the class. The school had to suggest after several incidents that I take a break from school to figure what was wrong with me. I went to different traditional healers all around the township and they all said the same thing — that I have a calling and I had to be initiated to be a sangoma after I accepted my calling.

It was when I was busy with my initiation that I later found out a lot of scary things about my family. I remember one day I had actually dug out a strange bottle with grey muti inside that was tied with a red string in our backyard, next to the outside toilet. My traditional teachers who were guiding me through this journey of discovery told me that this was buried a long time ago. This meant that my family was under a curse.

Frequently after this discovery, I had scary dreams and one dream that I remember clearly was where I dreamt of hungry, savage dogs running towards our house. They got in and ravaged my whole family except me with their sharp and strong ferocious teeth. When they saw me they got scared and ran away. One dog tripped over our gate as it was running out with others and broke a tooth. It continued running away with others while wailing loudly.

This particular dream didn’t sit well with me. I had to go seek advice again from my teachers. I was told that I should go back home and inspect exactly where that dog broke its tooth in the yard.

When I got close to the gate, I dug, using a small mahogany spear that most sangomas use to dig out medicine. Not so deep. We found an old knife buried right there under our gate. It had blood on it that my teachers assumed was the blood of a chicken. My sisters where frightened when they saw me producing that scary knife in our yard. From then it was pretty clear that someone very close to our family had bewitched us. The real question now was who?

All this now made sense. There was just no way that right after our parents burial that our very own family members would do those cruel things, like taking everything from us — they were under a spell. A spell of destroying this very family. Whoever bewitched us had succeeded because now it was too late to fix things. My sisters and me right then and there, we were undoubtedly convinced that indeed witchcraft does exist.

Our parents were killed by people who were jealous of their success and they knew that they didn’t believe in witchcraft. Bewitching them was a way to end them as they wouldn’t seek help from traditional healers.

After everything we’ve been through, I now believe in witchcraft. It does exist. There are people out there who would do anything to see great people and families, just like ours, that was strong, together and happy, perish because of jealousy. From now on I just hope God the Almighty helps us overcome the enemy and that no harm will come to me or any of my sisters as they’re working hard in college. I also pray that He grants me the strength to pull through this difficult journey of discovery and learning. I know that my parents are watching over us, always. We will be sure to make them proud and rebuild ourselves from the ashes of this cruel life.

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