MY TRIP TO DUBAI THAT TURNED INTO A RITUAL
I used to think being a slay queen was just about looking pretty, traveling, and living the soft life. When I got invited to Dubai by a rich man I met online, I thought I had finally arrived. He promised me luxury hotels, shopping sprees, designer bags, and money that would make my old life disappear.
The first night was paradise. I ate food I couldn’t even pronounce, took selfies with the Burj Khalifa in the background, and sipped champagne while gold bracelets clinked on my wrist. I posted pictures pretending it was my hard work that got me there, but deep down, I knew I was just a guest in another man’s world.
But on the second night, he showed me the truth.
He took me to a hidden floor of his penthouse. Behind a glass wall, I saw a snake so massive it looked like it could swallow a cow. Its skin was black and shiny like oil, and its eyes burned red. When it hissed, my ears rang. I wanted to run, but the man grabbed my wrist and said:
“Nothing in this world is free. You want money, you must give something in return. This snake is my wealth, my god. If you want to taste real riches, you must feed it.”
At first, I thought he meant blood. I even started praying silently, thinking he would cut me. But he laughed and said, “Blood is for the poor. The snake eats shame. You must give it what makes you human.”
Then he handed me a golden bowl. My stomach turned when I realized what he wanted. He told me to squat. I begged him, cried, threatened to leave. He turned up the Arabic music, poured himself a drink, and said, “In Dubai, dignity is currency. Now pay.”
I don’t know what took over me, Chomi. Maybe it was greed. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was both. I did the unthinkable. The smell filled the room. My body shook with shame. He clapped like it was entertainment, picked up the bowl, and placed it in the cage.
The snake uncoiled slowly. It hissed, its tongue flickered, and it devoured everything like it had been waiting just for me.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I felt its eyes on me even in the dark. I swore I heard it moving under the bed, whispering in a language I couldn’t understand. When I closed my eyes, I felt something cold slither across my stomach.
But in the morning, money was waiting for me. Bundles of dollars stacked neatly on the table. A Louis Vuitton bag full of gifts. My flight upgraded to first class. I told myself it was worth it.
But the curse followed me home.
At first, it was just whispers. A hiss at 3 a.m. A rotten smell in my bedroom even after cleaning. Then shadows began moving across my walls, even when the lights were on. My friends thought I was losing my mind.
Then my body started to betray me. Some nights, I woke up with my tongue flickering like a snake’s. My eyes felt heavy and dry, blinking slower than before. My skin sometimes moved as if something was crawling underneath it.
One night, I vomited. Not food. Not blood. I vomited dirty, slimy dollars — wet and reeking of something rotten. That’s when I knew my soul had been traded.
I ran to sangomas, prophets, pastors. They all told me the same thing: “You are tied. That man’s snake owns you now.”
And the man? He kept texting me. “The snake is hungry,” he wrote. “Feed it again.”
I ignored him. I tried to pray. But then the torture began. The snake didn’t stay in Dubai anymore. It was inside me. It scratched my insides, hissed in my ears, and demanded more.
Then came the night everything changed.
I don’t know if it was a dream or reality, but I woke up in Dubai again. The same penthouse. The same snake. The man was standing there, smiling, with the golden bowl in his hands.
“It’s your turn now,” he said. “You are no longer just a girl. You are the feeder. You will bring me others.”
I screamed, but my voice was not mine anymore. It hissed. My tongue was forked. My skin itched and peeled, revealing shiny black patches underneath. My legs felt weak, and I realized they were no longer legs but something else.
The snake had marked me. I was becoming one of its own.
Since that night, my life has never been the same. I lure girls now. I don’t even want to, but the hunger inside me pushes me. When I convince another girl to go to Dubai, the snake leaves me alone for a while. I post pictures of soft life, pretend to be glowing, but it’s all lies.
Every night, I dream of hissing in the dark. Sometimes, when I wake up, there are scales on my sheets. My eyes shine red in the mirror. I can feel my humanity rotting away, piece by piece.
And the worst part? I’m not alone. There are many of us. Girls you see living soft life, suddenly rich, suddenly glowing — some of them are feeders too. We smile in pictures, but our souls belong to the snake.
Ladies, please listen. Not every Dubai trip is a blessing. Not every gift is love. Some money comes from shame, blood, and rituals that can never be undone. And once you step into that world, you never come back.
Because the snake is always hungry. And one day, it won’t just eat your shame. It will eat you.
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