I BECAME RICH BY CALLING THE NAMES OF RICH PEOPLE IN MY NEIGHBOURHOOD BUT THE CONSEQUENCES WERE HORRIBLE.
The Darkside of a short cut to wealth.
I grew up very poor,I'm from a very poor background and it was evident that it was going to carry on till infinity. There was no change at all,all of us would end at matric and no way forward from there.
That would basically be because our marks weren't even that good so chances of bursaries were not even there. I remember repeating my matric because I wanted better marks but still got the same low marks. A sad pass.
We would work at people's homes for peanuts,just enough money to put food on the table and nothing beyond that. As I grew older my money problems became broader.
I never thought I would find myself walking down the path I chose last year. Life was hard, and I was desperate. Bills piled up, my family struggled to make ends meet, and every day felt like a battle just to survive. I wanted to change my life, not only for me but for the people I loved. That’s how I found myself in the company of a sangoma, seeking help to turn my misfortunes to fortunes.
It started with a simple conversation. The sangoma was quiet but commanding, someone who made you feel like they knew things you didn’t. I poured my heart out, explaining how poverty was eating away at my spirit. After listening to me, he looked me in the eye and asked, “How far are you willing to go to change your life?” I told him I would do anything. At that point, I meant it.
He handed me a small pouch filled with black powder and gave very specific instructions. I was to use it only at night, and I could only target three people a year. The people had to be wealthy, the kind of rich that made them untouchable in the community. I was supposed to go to their gates and doors, sprinkle the powder while whispering their names, and ask them to share their wealth with me. He assured me that they would start giving me money on their own accord, no strings attached. It felt strange, almost too good to be true. But I was desperate enough to try.
That night, I walked around my neighborhood with the pouch of powder in my pocket. My heart was racing, and I kept second-guessing myself. What if someone saw me? What if it didn’t work? But desperation silenced my doubts. I chose three of the wealthiest families, people who had always seemed out of reach in every sense. Their houses were huge, the kind of places you only see in magazines or on TV. I followed the sangoma’s instructions to the letter, sprinkling the powder, whispering their names, and making my request.
I didn’t expect anything to happen, at least not immediately. But within a week, things began to change. The first person I targeted, a businessman known for his wealth and influence, approached me out of nowhere. He handed me an envelope filled with cash, saying he felt compelled to help me out. He even asked for my bank account details so he could send more. The second person did the same, and so did the third. It was almost unreal. These were people who had never even acknowledged my existence before, and now they were giving me money as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
At first, I was overjoyed. The money came in amounts I had never dreamed of having. I paid off debts, bought new clothes, and started upgrading my family’s lifestyle. It felt like a dream come true. But then the nightmares began.
Every night, I would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. It felt like someone was in the room with me, choking me, holding me down. My body would be covered in bruises, bite marks, and blisters that I couldn’t explain. The pain was unbearable, and the fear was even worse. I started avoiding sleep, but the nightmares would come anyway, even during short naps.
At first, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, guilt manifesting in strange ways. But the physical marks were too real to ignore. I went back to the sangoma, desperate for answers. I showed him the marks on my body and told him about the nightmares. His face darkened as he listened.
“You are being attacked,” he said. “The people you chose, they are not as clean as they seem. Their wealth comes with its own sacrifices, and the beings tied to their riches don’t like sharing. They see you as a threat because you are taking what they believe belongs to them.”
I was horrified. I had always known that some people did questionable things to maintain their wealth, but I had never imagined that I would become a target of whatever dark forces they had invoked. The sangoma told me that the only way to protect myself was to perform a cleansing ritual, but it would come at a high cost. By then, I was too terrified to care about the price. I just wanted the nightmares to stop.
The cleansing ritual was intense and frightening. The sangoma made me stay in a dark room surrounded by candles, chanting words I didn’t understand while sprinkling more powders and herbs around me. I felt like I was being torn apart and put back together at the same time. When it was over, he told me that I would be safe as long as I stopped using the black powder.
I left his place feeling shaken but hopeful. The nightmares became less frequent, and the physical attacks stopped. But the experience left me scarred in ways I can’t fully explain.
Looking back, I realize how dangerous and reckless my actions were. I was so blinded by desperation that I didn’t think about the consequences. The money did improve my life in many ways, but it came at a cost I wasn’t prepared to pay. I learned the hard way that shortcuts to wealth often lead to dark and dangerous places.
If there’s one thing I hope people take away from my story, it’s this: be careful what you wish for, and be even more careful about the lengths you’re willing to go to achieve it. Not everything that glitters is gold, and not every solution is worth the price. Now I've turned into a hopeless drunk and all I do is drink the money.
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