MY VILLAGERS DROWNED IN MY SWIMMING POOLS AS SACRIFICES TO MY MONEY RITUAL.
If ever you have ever wondered why local swimming POOLS have a habit of drowning people even in the presence of trailer life savers, today i might have the answer for you.
Life often pushes us to make desperate decisions, and in my case, that decision led me down a dark and dangerous path. I traveled to a small village in Malawi, hoping to change my life forever, only to discover that the cost of getting rich was far greater than I ever could have imagined. The money I gained came with a terrible curse, one that haunts me to this day.
A few years ago, I was desperate. I was struggling financially, feeling hopeless and stuck in a life that seemed never-ending. One day, I heard about a ritual in a remote village in Malawi, a village known only by word of mouth. People there were said to perform powerful rituals that could bring wealth to anyone willing to pay the price. I was skeptical but intrigued.
The village is called *Chinyama*, surprisingly you won't know it unless you are a ritualist. The first rule there was that it was accessble only at night. The village was located deep in the hills, away from the cities. It was peaceful, with dirt roads, small huts, and the sound of birds and animals in the air. It was a simple place, where everyone knew each other, and life seemed calm. Little did I know that beneath this peaceful exterior, something far darker was brewing.
Coming to think of it now,the village most definitely was an after life village. Nothing makes sense now and I don't even know how to explain without my mental state being questioned.
But I also learned that such places exist and they stay sacred by making people doubt your sanity should you ever want to expose them or rather share your experiences.
I arrived at the village with high hopes, thinking that this could be my chance to finally escape poverty. The inyanga (traditional healer) who performed the ritual was an older man, his face worn by age, but his eyes gleamed with a strange intensity. He told me that for the ritual to work, I had to be prepared to follow his instructions exactly. Desperate for change, I agreed without fully understanding what was in store.
The inyanga handed me two 500ml bottles filled with water. He told me to take one bottle and pour it into the river near the village. After seven days, I was to check under my bed, and there, I would find the money. He then instructed me to pour the second bottle into the water of a swimming pool, which would be the key to my new business venture.
I didn't ask many questions. At that point, I was so desperate for success that I didn’t think about the consequences. The inyanga told me that everything would work out if I followed the ritual to the letter.
The first bottle was easy to pour into the river. It seemed like a simple task. However the second I opened the bottle,a strong wind came and the water suddenly started moving in circles. It became very cold instantly and I threw th bottle in the river and ran off .
A few days after I poured the water into the river, news spread through the village that a herder, a young man, had drowned in that very river. He had been crossing it when the water became suddenly swift, and he had lost his footing, pulling him under. The next day, his body was found, and the village mourned his loss.
At the time, I didn’t make the connection between the ritual and his death,all I could think about was that it could've been me but I managed to escape. I was too focused on what the inyanga had promised—money would come, and I needed to wait. And sure enough, after exactly seven days, I found money under my bed, just like the inyanga said I would. I was shocked and overjoyed. It felt unreal. But my happiness was short-lived.
With the money I found under my bed, I began to build a swimming pool business, just as I was instructed. I invested everything I had into it, hoping it would change my life. Soon after the pool was finished, I poured the second bottle of water into the pool, just as the inyanga had told me to do. This time it immediately rained for like 5 minutes and it stopped but nothing hectic or weird happened.
It wasn't long before the first accident happened. A young child drowned in the pool. It was a tragedy, and the entire village was shaken. It was an odd and tragic coincidence, or so I thought. However, every year, without fail, a person would drown in the pool. Sometimes it was an adult, sometimes a child, but the pattern was undeniable.
And each time, exactly seven days after the drowning, I would find money under my bed. But also all those incidents never scared people away,infact the pools became more popular.
But as the years went by, the curse started to take a toll on me. I began to see the faces of the people who drowned in my pool, haunting me in my dreams and even during the day. I would wake up in a cold sweat, screaming in fear, only to find that the room was empty. The guilt of knowing that their deaths were tied to my ritual was slowly eating away at my sanity.
I could no longer escape the faces of the drowned, the cold eyes staring at me, accusing me. I began to feel like I was losing my mind. Every night, I would hear whispers, and sometimes, I would feel a presence in the room with me. It was as if the spirits of the drowned were watching me, waiting for something.
I knew I needed to stop this, but I didn’t know how. The inyanga had warned me that once the ritual was done, there was no going back. He told me that I had agreed to everything when I started, and now I would have to live with the consequences.
In desperation, I went back to the inyanga, hoping he could help me reverse the curse. I told him about the haunting, the deaths, and the guilt that was consuming me. But he just looked at me with cold eyes and told me that there was no way out. "You agreed to the ritual," he said. "The water snakes you poured into the river and the pool are the ones causing the drownings. You can't undo what has already been done."
He explained that the bottles of water I had received were not ordinary water—they contained spirits in the form of water snakes. These snakes were linked to the drownings, and they were bound to follow the ritual. The water snakes would always claim a life when the ritual was performed, and the money would keep coming, but it would come at a terrible cost.
I felt trapped. The inyanga’s words were cold and final. He had given me what I wanted, but now I was paying the price for my desperation.
As the years go by, the hauntings have only intensified. I still receive money under my bed every time someone drowns in the pool, and the faces of the dead continue to appear in my dreams. I have tried to ignore it, but it’s impossible. The guilt and fear weigh heavily on me, and I feel like I’m slowly losing myself.
Every year, I tell myself that I will stop the pool business, that I will walk away from it all. But something always pulls me back—maybe it’s the money, maybe it’s the hope of one day being free. But deep down, I know the truth: this ritual has cursed me, and there’s no escape.
I share my story with you not to scare you, but to warn you. Desperation can drive us to make choices we don’t fully understand, and sometimes, those choices have consequences we can never escape. If you ever find yourself facing a decision like the one I made, please, think carefully. The price of wealth may be more than you're willing to pay.
The ritual I went through in *Chinyama* has changed my life forever. The money came, but it came with a curse. And now, I live in the shadow of the dead, haunted by the choices I made in my search for wealth.
If you're reading this, take my story as a lesson. Be careful what you wish for, because you may not be able to undo the damage once it's done.
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