A SOUTH AFRICAN POLITICIAN BEGGING FOR HELP TO FIND HIS POWER AND HEALTH THAT WENT MISSING

A SOUTH AFRICAN POLITICIAN BEGGING FOR HELP TO FIND HIS POWER AND HEALTH THAT WENT MISSING 

Confession o

f a South African Politician: My Snake is Gone, My Power is Slipping

I have never told anyone this truth. For years, people have speculated about how I rose so fast in politics, how scandals never seemed to stick to me, how tenders landed in my lap like blessings, and how enemies who dared to speak against me somehow disappeared from the political stage. They call it “luck.” Some call it “strategy.” Others whisper about “dark powers.”

But no one knows the real story—except me.

I am a South African politician who built my career on promises to serve the people, to uplift the poor, to fight corruption. Yet, behind my speeches and photo opportunities, a different reality has been unfolding. My life has not been guided by luck or strategy. It has been ruled by a snake.

Not a metaphorical snake. A real one.

The Night I Met the Snake

It began ten years ago, in a lodge on the outskirts of Mpumalanga. I had just lost a crucial party election. My campaign was broke. My name was being dragged in the media. My wife was threatening to leave me. I was staring at the end of my political ambitions when an old comrade—someone who had been “blessed” in business—told me about a man who could “change my fortunes.”

We drove deep into the night to a small, crumbling homestead. Inside was a man dressed in white robes, with eyes that seemed to see through me. He told me he could give me protection, power, and wealth—but it would not come free.

I was desperate. I agreed before I even knew the price.

That was the first night I saw the snake.

It was not like any snake I had seen before—huge, dark, and strangely intelligent. Its eyes glowed faintly, like two coals burning in the dark. The man told me this snake would become my “shadow” and my “shield.” It would protect me from enemies, scandals, even the law. It would draw people to me, make me untouchable.

But in return, I would have to feed it. Not with rats or birds—but with my loyalty, my secrecy, and certain “offerings” that would be explained as time went on.

The Rise to Power

After that night, my life changed almost immediately.

A scandal that was about to break in the newspapers was suddenly buried. My rival in the party fell ill and resigned. Funding for my next campaign appeared from nowhere. I began to climb the ladder again, faster than before.

I kept my snake hidden. It stayed in a secret room in one of my properties, where I would visit it at night. Sometimes it would speak—not in words, but in a voice inside my head. It would tell me which deals to take, which people to trust, and which people to remove from my circle.

People around me thought I was a genius. I wasn’t. I was just following instructions.

The snake grew stronger. So did I.

I started winning tenders I shouldn’t have won. Journalists who tried to investigate me would find themselves losing jobs, being sued, or mysteriously silenced. My colleagues in government feared me, even though they didn’t know why. My snake was my secret bodyguard, my spiritual firewall, my silent partner.

But every deal, every bribe, every betrayal was feeding it. It was not just protecting me—it was feeding off me, too.

The Missing Snake

A month ago, my world shifted.

I returned to my safehouse in Gauteng where the snake was kept. It was gone.

I thought at first it had just hidden itself, but the room was empty. The smell of it—earthy, metallic—was gone. The walls felt cold.

I panicked. I called the man who first gave it to me, but his number was off. I sent people to look for him, only to find that he had died two weeks earlier in a mysterious car crash.

Since that day, I have felt like a different person.

The protection that once surrounded me feels thinner. Police investigations I thought were dead are suddenly active again. Party comrades who used to obey me now question my decisions. My body feels heavy. I have nightmares where the snake is watching me from a distance, hissing, but never coming closer.

Sometimes at night I wake up thinking it’s curled up under my bed, only to find nothing. Sometimes I hear it whisper my name, but when I turn, there’s only empty air.

I am starting to lose my mind.

Living Without the Shield

People think corruption is just about money. It’s not. It’s about power, protection, and fear. When you are in it, you don’t think of it as wrong—you think of it as survival.

For years, my snake allowed me to survive. It allowed me to prosper. I told myself it was just a spiritual arrangement, like any other politician’s “blessing.” But now, stripped of it, I see what I have become.

I have stolen from the poor. I have betrayed my people. I have signed deals that have ruined lives. I have hidden behind the shield of a creature I didn’t fully understand.

And now, the shield is gone.

It’s not just my career at stake. It’s my sanity.

The Cost of Power

The man who gave me the snake once warned me: “If the snake leaves you, it will take your shadow with it.” I didn’t understand then. I do now.

I feel hollow, as if something has been ripped out of me. My thoughts are scattered. My memory is fading. I forget things mid-sentence. I feel watched, yet unprotected.

I wonder if the snake left because I failed to feed it properly—or because it has found someone else more desperate, more ambitious.

I have tried rituals to call it back. Nothing works. I have burned incense, slaughtered goats, even driven to rural shrines. Each time, the sangomas tell me the same thing: “It has chosen to leave you. There is no return.”

Without it, the walls of my empire are crumbling. Auditors are asking questions. Journalists are circling again. My enemies smell weakness.

And deep inside me, a voice I haven’t heard in years—my own conscience—is starting to whisper.

The Confession

I don’t know why I am writing this. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s the beginning of my end.

I want people to know that nothing in politics is free. Every shortcut has a price. Every “blessing” has a cost. For ten years, I lived like a king, untouchable, because of a snake. But now that the snake is gone, I am left with my sins.

I look at my family and wonder what will happen to them when the investigations reach my door. I look at my bank accounts and see money that feels like poison. I look at myself in the mirror and see a man aging fast, eyes hollow, hands shaking.

I don’t know if the snake was ever real—or if it was just a manifestation of my own greed and fear. But whether real or not, it ruled me. And now that it’s gone, I am naked before the world.

The Lesson

I built my career on deception, but I can’t lie to myself anymore. The snake is gone. The power is slipping. The corruption I thought I could outrun is catching up.

If there’s one thing I would tell young politicians or anyone tempted by quick power, it’s this: there is no protection that lasts forever. Not even a snake. Especially not a snake.

When the deal ends, you are left with your deeds—and your demons.

For a month now, I have been living without my shield. And for the first time in years, I feel what it means to be human again. Vulnerable. Weak. Afraid.

Maybe this is punishment. Maybe it’s a chance for redemption. I don’t know.

All I know is that my snake is gone. And with it, everything I thought I was.