UKUTHWALA WITH DEAD PEOPLE'S HAIR. (The hair money ritual)
I never thought I’d find myself writing this confession, but the weight of my actions demands release. This is not a guide or endorsement but a recounting of my journey down a path I now deeply regret. For those who walk or are tempted by the dark, I share this story not as a teacher but as a warning.
I found myself at a village that's far excluded. The village had weird and heavy vibes. It was a village only elderly people lived. There were no youngers in that village only elders and I mean very old people who barely had clothes on and they could barely move around but they were forever busy.
They walked in slow motion as if they were plugged or rather as if they were zombies. They all couldn't speak,only two people in that whole village could speak and those were the sangoma I had gone to consult with. Only he and his wife could speak.
I was in that village to collect get rich quick wealth. That is how I ended up there.
The desperation for wealth can lead you to corners of life you never imagined. In my case, it led me to a world where the dead became tools in rituals promising untold riches. I was introduced to the practice of using human hair—specifically that of the deceased—to summon energies that could allegedly bring prosperity. The source of the hair? Mortuaries.
The idea seemed simple at first. It was whispered in hushed tones by those who claimed to have seen results, and the lure of quick money was overwhelming. I convinced myself that no one would be hurt, that the dead had no use for their hair. But what I didn’t anticipate was the cost—one that no amount of wealth could repay.
For those curious, here’s how it was done:The hair was stolen in secrecy, often during quiet hours at mortuaries. It had to be freshly taken, untouched by decay. I was told that the essence of the deceased lingered in their hair, making it a powerful conduit for spiritual energies.The hair was taken to a secluded location where rituals were performed.
This involved chanting incantations, using specific oils, and burning a mix of herbs. The atmosphere had to be charged with intent—focused on summoning entities willing to bargain.In many cases, the hair was not the only requirement. Sacrifices—both physical and spiritual—were demanded.
These could range from personal belongings to acts that tested one’s morality.Initially, there were signs that the ritual “worked.” Unexpected financial gains, opportunities, and wealth seemed to flow effortlessly. But nothing in the dark world is free.
The riches came with shadows that followed me everywhere. Nightmares. Restlessness. A growing sense of paranoia. The spirits involved demanded more—more offerings, more sacrifices. The wealth I gained felt cursed, and I found myself spending it on ways to ease the torment of my choices.
I also began to see the human side of the act. Each strand of hair belonged to someone—a person with a story, a family, a life. I had desecrated their memory for greed, and the weight of that realization became unbearable.
To those considering this path, I can only say one thing: don’t. The promise of wealth is seductive, but the cost is far greater than you can imagine. The dark world doesn’t give; it takes. And it doesn’t stop taking until there’s nothing left of you.
I am still searching for redemption. I’ve sought spiritual cleansing, made countless apologies in my heart to those I wronged, and vowed never to walk this path again. The road back to peace is long, and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully escape the darkness.
This is my story, shared anonymously, in the hope that it deters even one person from making the same mistakes. Wealth born from darkness is never worth the price. If you’re tempted, think twice. If you’ve started, stop. And if you’re already deep in it, know that leaving is possible, though not without struggle.
The dead deserve respect.
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