Mamazie's News

 The Dark Secret of My Marriage  They say the truth will set you free, but what if the truth could also destroy you? This is the story of my life—a story I’ve kept hidden for too long. I’m sharing it anonymously, not because I’m afraid of judgment, but because I need to unburden myself from the weight of what I’ve been living with. I am married to a man who is both my greatest blessing and my deepest fear. He is wealthy beyond imagination, a man whose lifestyle could make anyone feel like royalty. When I met him, he had just lost his wife, and though it seemed odd how quickly he wanted to move on, I brushed my doubts aside. I didn’t want to ask questions. After all, I was caught up in the allure of his wealth and the life he promised me. We met at a mutual friend's event. He was charming, attentive, and generous. He treated me like I was the only woman in the room. I soon learned that he had recently lost his wife, but he didn’t seem like a grieving widower. He was focused...

Confession: I Once Lived Underwater There’s something I’ve never told anyone before—not even my closest family or friends. It’s the kind of thing people wouldn’t believe, and even now, as I write this, I question whether it’s safe to say it. But the weight of this secret has grown too heavy, and I need to let it out. I once lived underwater. I’m not talking about swimming or holding my breath. I mean truly living underwater, in a world that exists beneath the surface. It happened years ago when I was much younger. I had been chosen to become a traditional healer, a role that is both an honor and a heavy responsibility in our culture. It all started with strange dreams. Night after night, I’d see myself walking into water, deeper and deeper, until I was fully submerged. But I wasn’t drowning. I could breathe, and there were people waiting for me. Some of them looked familiar, like ancestors I’d only seen in old photos. Others were strangers, but they felt important, like they knew m...

  "The Curse of the Snake Ritual: A Warning from a Man Trapped in Its Grip" Some choices haunt you for life. I am writing this anonymously, not because I am ashamed, but because I want to warn others about something sinister and real: the snake money ritual. It may sound like a myth or superstition, but I am living proof that it exists—and that it destroys everything in its path. I was desperate when I did it. Desperation makes you blind to reason. I was struggling financially, my family was in debt, and I couldn’t bear to see my loved ones suffer anymore. A colleague introduced me to a man—someone who promised me riches beyond my wildest dreams. All I had to do was follow his instructions. The ritual itself was strange and terrifying. It involved a large three-legged pot, some items I can’t even name, and a live snake. The man told me, "This snake will bring you wealth, but it demands respect and sacrifice. You must never betray it or try to rid yourself of it....

My Confession as an Evil Stepmother: A confession of Jealousy, Regret, and Haunting Some people say life is a series of choices. Others believe it’s destiny. For a long time, I thought I was in control of my own fate, bending life to my will. But now, as I sit here reflecting on the chain of events that brought me here, I realize I was a prisoner of my own jealousy, selfishness, and pride. What I did cannot be undone, and the consequences of my actions are now carved into every corner of my life. This is my story. My confession. I wasn’t always a stepmother. I started out as the other woman. My husband was married when we first met, a man deeply in love with his wife and devoted to his little girl. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I was captivated by him. I wanted him for myself, and I refused to accept that he belonged to someone else. My family comes from a long line of people who practice black magic. I grew up surrounded by rituals, charms, and muti—a blend of African ...

I bre@stfeed men at clubs. My quick way of getting rich fast without any bl00d sacrifices. The Confession: My Experience with a Sangoma's "Solution" They say desperation makes you do things you never thought you’d do. Well, let me tell you, I’ve been there. I’m not here to justify myself or ask for your pity—I’m just here to share my story. Maybe you’ll learn from it, or maybe it’ll be one of those cautionary tales that makes you say, "That could never be me." Either way, here it is. A few months ago, life was rough. Bills piled up, dreams seemed further away, and I felt like I was running in circles. It didn’t matter how hard I worked or how many side hustles I picked up—success just wasn’t happening for me. That’s when a friend mentioned something that made me pause. “Why don’t you see a sangoma?” she whispered one night after we shared a bottle of wine. “A sangoma? To do what?” I asked, half-laughing. “To change your luck,” she said with a shrug. At fi...

My Life With a Ghost Wife: A Love Story Beyond Life and Death Love can be found in the most unexpected places, and my story is one that I still struggle to believe actually happened. For 15 years, I lived a life filled with love, laughter, and success. I was married to a woman who seemed perfect in every way—she was supportive, nurturing, and committed to our life together. But as I would come to learn, this beautiful love story had a chilling twist. My wife was not like other women; she was a ghost. Years ago, I moved to a new town due to work. At the time, I was going through one of the worst financial crises of my life. I was desperate for stability and rented a small room in a quiet neighborhood. The rent was affordable, the landlord seemed friendly, and I thought I had finally caught a break. Not long after, I met her. She was a quiet, reserved woman who didn’t have many friends and rarely went out. She preferred doing errands early in the morning, just as stores opened, and ...

MY COUSIN DIED AND ATTENDED HER OWN FUNERAL. D o spirits attend their own funerals? After what happened to me, I believe they do. I never gave much thought to the afterlife or whether spirits lingered after death. Sure, the idea was intriguing, but it was just that—an idea. However, something happened that changed my perspective forever. It started when my cousin, Ellie, passed away suddenly. She was only 28, taken too soon by a rare illness. Ellie was the life of every family gathering. She had this infectious laugh and a mischievous streak that made her a joy to be around. She was like a younger sister to me, and we had an unbreakable bond. When Ellie passed, the grief hit us all hard, especially her parents. They were so distraught they could hardly make decisions about the funeral. I stepped in, wanting to do something meaningful for Ellie. I planned the service, picked out the flowers, and even chose a playlist of her favorite songs. I thought of it as my final act of love for her...

 I MASTERED BEING A WITCH FROM A VERY YOUNG AGE I USED TO CALL PEOPLE'S NAMES AT NIGHT FROM MY BEDROOM AND IF THEY ANSWERED IN THEIR DREAMS THEN THEIR SOULS WERE MINE TO CONTROL AND MANIPULATE. I grew up in a home filled with hate and bitterness. My mother taught me how to do bad magic. She showed me how to make people do what I want without them knowing. As a child, I thought this was cool. I wanted to be powerful and in control. My mother told me this was the way to get what I wanted in life. I believed her. My mother was a mean person. She always yelled at me and made me feel bad. But when she taught me the bad magic, I felt special. I felt like I had a secret power that no one else had. As I got older, I got deeper into the bad magic. I started using it to make people like me. I would call out their names at night and control their minds. They would do what I wanted without knowing why. People liked me during the day, but it was all fake. I had controlled their minds. I felt po...

  "The Secrets of the Mortuary: A Decade of Silence" For ten long years, I worked at a mortuary in a quiet, nondescript town. When I started, I was simply looking for a stable job—a way to pay my bills and get by. The work was straightforward, albeit grim. We prepared the deceased for their final resting place, ensuring that families could say their goodbyes with dignity. But over time, I realized there was something sinister lurking beneath the surface, something that still haunts me to this day. The mortuary was owned by a man I’ll call Mr. D. He was a charismatic, larger-than-life figure who seemed to thrive in a business that most people couldn’t stomach. Mr. D was always cheerful, quick with a joke, and generous with bonuses during good months. But there was another side to him—a darker side that only revealed itself in moments I’d come to know. It started when Occasionally, a pregnant woman’s body would arrive at the morgue. These cases weren’t common, but they were...

 The Price of Love: How I Sacrificed Everything for a Man Who Bewitched Me** Love is supposed to be a beautiful thing—a bond that brings two people closer together, builds each other up, and creates a life full of joy and respect. But sometimes, love can trap you in a nightmare, slowly robbing you of your self-worth, your dreams, and even your family. My story is a painful reminder of how love can become a poison that destroys everything in its path, leaving nothing but regret. ### How It All Began I met him when I was at a vulnerable point in my life. I was searching for companionship, for someone to show me love and affection in a world that had seemed too cold and indifferent. He came into my life like a whirlwind, charming me with his sweet words, his promises of forever, and his ability to make me feel like I was the center of his universe. At first, I thought I had found someone special, someone who would cherish me as I had always dreamed of being cherished. But little did I...

 The Curse of the Stolen Pig: A Story of Consequences MY FATHER STOLE A PIG AND FED IT TO MY FAMILY,THEY ARE NOW ALL MENTALLY ILL. I want to share a deeply personal and troubling story from my life. It’s not something I talk about often, but perhaps writing about it will help me find some answers or at least a sense of peace. This story is about how a single act of dishonesty led to unimaginable suffering for my entire family, all because of a sangoma’s curse. It all began with my father. One day, in a moment of greed or desperation—who knows—he stole a pig from a sangoma. For those who may not know, a sangoma is a traditional healer in African culture, someone deeply respected and feared for their spiritual powers. My dad probably thought he could get away with it. Maybe he believed in these powers, or maybe he didn’t care. Whatever his reasons, he took the pig home and cooked it for the family. I wasn’t there. I was away at school at the time. But my siblings, my mom, and ev...

A Neighbor’s Tragic End: A Story of Guilt and Haunting I never thought I would share this, but the weight of my actions has grown unbearable. My name doesn’t matter. What matters is the truth—the dark, painful truth about how I destroyed an innocent life. I was a terrible neighbor. Some might call me jealous, petty, or evil, but the truth is I lived off witchcraft and was willing to do anything to ensure no one outshone me. I didn’t start out like this, but life has a way of twisting you when you feel small, unseen, and left behind. My neighbor, Nthabiseng (I’ll use this name for her), was everything I wasn’t. She was cheerful, hardworking, and respected. People loved her, trusted her, and often sang her praises. Meanwhile, my life felt like a hollow shell. I hated her for shining so brightly while my world was dark and cold. I let envy take root in my heart, and it wasn’t long before I acted on it. Tokoloshis in the Yard I didn’t know much about witchcraft when I started, but I ...

  The Church That Wasn’t a Church, Our pastor was a sangoma and we did horrible things. When I first joined the church, I thought I had found a sanctuary. From the outside, it looked like any other place of worship—white walls, a modest wooden cross above the entrance, and the sound of hymns filling the air every Sunday. The pastor, a kind-looking woman in her late forties, always greeted us with a warm smile. I felt at home, or so I thought. What I didn’t know was that I wasn’t walking into a house of God. I was stepping into a realm of darkness. It started innocently enough. They welcomed me warmly, almost too warmly. I was new to the village, eager to belong, and they seemed eager to have me. The first few services were like any other church gathering: prayers, singing, and sermons. But there was an intensity about their worship that unsettled me, though I brushed it off. They prayed with so much energy, shouting and crying as if their lives depended on it. At the time, I thou...

  The Story I Regret: Marrying the Woman Everyone Warned Me About When I first met her, she seemed like a dream come true. Sweet, charming, and thoughtful, she captivated me in a way no one else ever had. People warned me about her from the beginning, saying she was into witchcraft and that I should stay away. But I refused to listen. I thought they were just envious or judgmental. Love can blind you, and I was completely swept away. Today, I wish I had listened. Our story began like many others. We met through mutual acquaintances, and her warmth drew me in. She was unlike anyone I'd ever met — always so attentive and caring. She had this aura of mystery, but instead of seeing it as a red flag, I saw it as part of her charm. People told me strange stories about her, but I brushed them off. "You don't know her like I do," I told myself and anyone who voiced their concerns. We got married within a year of meeting. That’s when the cracks began to show. At first, ev...

MY GRANDMOTHER'S STRANGE HUGE CAT THAT SHE LEFT FOR ME. My Grandmother's Huge Cat: A Journey into the Unknown Witchcraft is very real, and I am living proof of its presence in our world. My journey into the strange began with my grandmother—a quiet, shy woman with a mysterious aura. She wasn’t the type to mingle or make friends. In fact, she had zero friends. Her life revolved around her yard, where she kept herself busy with chores and projects that often felt both mundane and otherworldly. She was my sanctuary. Unlike my parents, who were perpetually engrossed in their business ventures, my grandmother had time for me. Holidays meant everything to me because they brought me closer to her warmth and attention. While my parents built their empires, their home felt like a cold, empty shell. In contrast, my grandmother’s house was alive, albeit in an unusual way—quiet, secluded, and unnervingly detached from the world around it. My grandmother’s home wasn’t like others in the nei...