They’d wanted to kill me.
As I stood to offer words of hope and peace at this funeral ceremony, I closed my eyes. In my mind I imagined the scene, replaying the visits I used to make to the sangoma (witch doctor).
The smoke would sting my eyes as I’d enter the room. Rubbing them, my eyes would gradually adjust to the dim lighting. The walls were always covered in red scribblings and painted masks—the stale smell of herbs and ashes permeated the room. There were wooden bowls filled with animal bones and a small stone altar in the corner—the source of the smoke.
I always felt an eerie blend
of fear and power when
I visited the sangoma.
Is this what my “friends” felt when they’d gone to the sangoma to curse me—an understanding that the power they appealed to could work for them or against them?
When I started following Jesus, I stopped going to sangomas. How could I seek the power of a sangoma when I’d discovered that true power comes from Jesus?
There is a lot of jealousy in my community. When my daycare began to grow and become successful, other daycare owners in the community became jealous. Two of them went to a sangoma to put a curse on my life. But within a couple of weeks, both women passed away of “natural causes.”
They didn’t know what I know—that the power of a sangoma can’t succeed over the power of Jesus. I’m un-targetable.
Because Jesus’ power is
over my life, no curse of
a sangoma can touch me.
I wish these two women had known this. If they had experienced the power of Jesus, they would have realized how weak the power of a sangoma really is. They would have known that animal bones and stone altars don’t give access to true power.
There’s so much darkness
in my community.
But I don’t fear it.
The darkness can’t overcome the light that’s in me.
Daycare (Creche) Owner in Khayleitcha, Cape Town