This story takes place in a very unusual place for scary things to take place in. It’s in the CBD of Johannesburg . In an apartment, a very fancy one too. The person whom the story is about, was a man who had an ordinary job as an accountant at one of the South African banks.
He was an average man who lived an average life. He was in a stable relationship, took care of his family, drove a white polo, paid some of his bills but was also in a lot of debt. The loan to build his parent’s house back in KZN took a larger portion of his income every month.
So you see...he was just an average middle class, South African citizen. Wrong! There was also something that was unordinary about this man, his thirst for success was unlike no other! He had what people call the “high achiever’s guilt”. Except his was way too much.
Like most high achievers, he pressured himself to become more. To have more. Wanting to be the best of the best, among the rest.
His worst nightmare was being seen as average, and it didn’t help that he suffered from the “what’s next” syndrome which drove him to depression.
At the hands of depression, he found himself at the mercy of quick-money-making scams. First it was MMM, which fled with almost half his salary. Then it was this other one that his friends introduced him to, he lost out on that one as well. He was drowning in debts.
During December holidays, while in KZN,he learnt from his high school mate that it’s possible to gain wealth without having to lift one finger. Ntando was a high school dropout with no qualifications whatsoever yet he was seemingly richer & much happier than him.
Shocked at how his high school mate was driving big cars, with two wives and houses that would put the house he built for his parents plus his fancy apartment to shame, he had no choice but to believe that what Ntando was telling him was indeed true.
“Ngisebenzisa izigubhu mina ntwana” Ntando said.
Confused at what he meant by this, he laughed it off saying
“you must also hook me up ntwana, ngyazifuna lezogubhu”
Their conversation ended with Ntando giving him a contact that was set to relieve him of his financial troubles
He called the number immediately after Ntando drove off in his blue BMW X3.
“Hello” The person on the otherside picked up quicker than expected.
He clears his voice and greets back.
“Ngikhuluma nobani? “
“My name is Khumbulani, I got your number from a friend, Ntando”
“... and then?”
Suddenly there’s a lump on his throat, his hands are all of a sudden sweaty. He doesn’t know why, it’s probably because of the drumming and chanting he’s hearing from the other side.
“...I have financial problems, and I heard you can help me”
“Yes, Kunjalo mfana”
Khumbulani feels a bit disrespected. This man just referred to him as a boy. He pretends he didn’t hear it and asks to come see him. The man on the otherside gives him a location and a date. This is it! This is how he’ll finally get the life he deserves.
The day to visit his financial savior finally came & he embarked on a road trip to the small town, Nongoma, which is about 220Km from his hometown. He called Ntando to ask for directions & followed through until he reached a very rural village.
He knew he was at the right place because Ntando had said when he enters the gravel road, he should drive straight until he sees a crèche painted blue. That’s where he’ll has to turn right & drive up that hill. As he drove up the hill he suddenly felt a bit lightheaded...
He ignores it, but then start getting nervous as he realizes that he’s driving into an isolated area. He’s surrounded by bushveld, he’s starting to believe that he’s either lost, or Ntando sent him on an ambush. It’s feels like he’s driving in the middle of a game reserve.
At last, he sees a huge homestead with people moving up and down as though it’s a small market. As he gets closer, he’s stricken by how big this compound is. The houses are also big and evidently, newly built. He pulls up at the entrance then decides to step outside his car.
The are a lot cars parked here. He walks to the gate & waits for someone to see him. Ntando had instructed him to do this until someone attends to him. After standing in the sun for almost 20mins, a red headed girl runs to the gate & opens it for him without saying a word.
He decides not to greet her because she’s also avoiding eye contact.He figured she’s a Thwasa here.He walks inside the yard & still can’t believe this home belongs to a traditional healer. He was part of the majority that succumbed to the belief that traditional healers are poor.
This was the exact opposite.The are many morden looking huts here,with one big house at the center of this ridiculously huge yard.There are long ques of people awaiting to enter each hut.Some wheelchair bound, some with swollen legs & others weeping & screaming,it’s a mad house!
“Thokoza, Why have you come here? “ the girl finally speaks. He’s almost shocked.
“I called some time ago & the person I spoke to said I could come today”
“The person you spoke to, do you know their name?” She’s still avoiding eye contact.
“No, it was a man.. I think he’s..”
“...Come with me” she cuts him off before he could finish. He follows her to a que of people awaiting to enter into the smallest hut in this yard. She leaves hin that que & heads back to the gate to fetch other people.The place is like a clinic
In the line, there are men in suits, wearing expensive watches and also waiting to see Umkhulu Mfezemhlophe. They are probably the owners of the range rovers he saw outside.There’s also one Indian man in the line who’s on the phone negotiating some deal.These are all businessmen.
Seeing these men here, is giving him hope. Looking at this massive place also indicates that this traditional healer means business! After waiting for over an hour, a man steps out the hut. Khumbulani cannot believe his eyes! It’s one of the famous artists in South Africa.
At first he thought he was imagining things but after the seeing everyone’s reaction, he knew he wasn’t the only one seeing this. The notorious artist put on his cap & some shades & quickly rushed to the gate. This man means business mos’! Celebrities & even Indians consult here!
After spending almost 3 hours in the sun,he finally had his turn.He took off his vans sneakers by the door & stepped inside with his eyes glued to the cracked concrete floor,as a sign of respect to the man who holds the keys to his financial liberty.His heart starts pounding hard
I told him about all the dreams I had been having, the strange marks and bruises on my body, and the kitchen door incidences. My father was ashamed for having accused me of sneaking out at night, but he was more worried about how uMah would react to all of this.
We asked the prophet why uMah couldn’t join us as he was explaining how to break free from my capturer. He said that his guides didn’t want her in this space. He reckoned that my mother knew why. My mother denied knowing why the prophet denied her access to his indumba.
My father didn’t sleep a wink that night. He stayed awake the entire night, making sure I didn’t escape to spread evil in other people’s homes. I didn’t have dreams that night. I was sure the holy water and holy ash the prophet gave us, worked.
Today I am going to tell you a story about how I almost got burnt by the community of Ezakheni, Ladysmith. I will not tell you which section of the Ezakheni Township this took place in, for the protection of my parents who still reside there.
There is one thing that I am going to be completely truthful about though… and that is how it all started.
To see them dancing in their snow white and black patterned regalia, waving their red-clay-smeared-arms in the air while chanting songs that I had no doubt carried the very essence of what it meant to be African.
This was always an introduction to all the untold stories of my special kind of dreams. I would see them either around a blazing red ball of fire or on top of a green mountain, encircled by bushes of long brown hay beneath it.
And just like that, she was left with a cold heart on the shiny-spotless red concrete floor to which her in-laws were meant to see their pessimistic reflections on. Her enduring fight for the privilege of being a Mrs, was deemed a futile act.
They rushed to the sight of her frigid body and attempted to resurrect her as though they really wanted her to wake up...heaven knows that their little atrocious hearts chanted DEATH upon her, even when she was already gone.
After sending that money back, I decided to call Mandy, a friend of mine to come for a sleepover at my place. I tell her that I’ll get us wine, she doesn’t hesitate to say yes. I’m hella relieved that I won’t be spending the night by myself.
On my way back home, i pass by Tops and grab 3 bottles of St Ann red wine. That’s her fave.
I get home and take off my mask and scrubs, and jump into the shower.
“Yah, no... this day was Kak! I can’t believe Zonke tried to drag me into the pits..” I think to myself.
There’s something so relaxing about the feeling of warm water falling on top of your head- down to your feet. The sound of water falling onto the white tiles below is also soothing the soul. I feel better already!
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shaking as I am writing this. In fact, my hands are trembling so bad that I’m not even sure I’ll manage to finish telling this story to you
Okay... maybe I should first tell you a little bit about myself and where I’m from, just so you have a little bit of context as to why such a creature would pay a visit to me.