I am a fish and chips outlet owner now but I made bad human sacrifices at Bosman train station and now I'm paying the price

I am a fish and chips outlet owner now but I made bad human sacrifices at Bosman train station and now I'm paying the price

I want to open my heart today. I want to speak about something I have carried alone for many years. People see me now and they think I am a successful businessman. They think I worked hard and pushed through poverty until I made it. They do not know the real truth behind my success. They do not know the darkness that follows me even in broad daylight.

Back in the early 2000s, I used to sell fat cakes—amagwinya—at Bosman train station. It was not an easy life. I woke up at 4am every day to start cooking. I would take a taxi to town with a bucket full of warm fat cakes and stand at the busy station. People came rushing to buy. Some were going to work, others to school. Some were street kids who begged for coins just to get one amagwinya. I used to smile at them like I was a simple vendor trying to survive.

But I knew I was not innocent.

Before I started selling, I had gone to a sangoma because I was tired of being poor. I was tired of watching other people move forward while my life stood still. The sangoma gave me something that changed my whole life—a money snake. He told me that if I obeyed everything, I would become rich. I would own businesses. I would never struggle again.

But there was a price.

Every year, one person had to die. Not just anyone. The snake would choose. It would choose someone who bought from me at the station. Someone who placed their trust in me—even for a simple fat cake. After the snake chose them, they would lose control of their mind. Something would pull them. And sooner or later, they would jump in front of the moving train.

People around thought it was depression, stress, or problems at home. But I knew the truth. I knew those deaths were not accidents. I knew the blood on the tracks was feeding my wealth.

The first time it happened, I cried at home. I told myself I would stop. I said I would return the snake. But when the money started coming in, when life became easier, my heart became blind. Every year, someone died, and every year, my business grew. Slowly I moved from selling amagwinya to owning a small takeaway. Then another. Then a fish and chips outlet. Today I have a few restaurants in different areas. People call me “boss.” They say I inspire them. They praise my hard work.

But inside, I am dying.

The spirits of the people I sacrificed have never forgotten me. They come for me every night. When people sleep peacefully, that is when my suffering begins. I cannot switch off the lights in my bedroom. I cannot sleep on my back because I feel hands touching me. I hear footsteps in my passage even when I am alone. Sometimes I feel someone sitting on my bed. I feel cold breath on my neck.

The worst nights are the ones when they beat me. They slap me, pinch me, pull my blankets. Other nights they enter my body with a tree branch. A sharp pain that feels like fire burning inside me. I scream, but no sound comes out. I try to pray, but my tongue freezes. I try to run, but my body refuses to move.

And when morning comes, I pretend like everything is normal. I open my shop. I smile at customers. I talk to my workers. No one knows that I didn’t sleep. No one knows I am standing there with bruises and fear inside my heart.

People think money solves everything. People think success is the final dream. But what is the use of money when you fear the night? What is the use of cars and restaurants when you are not free inside?

I confess today because I am tired of carrying this alone. I am wealthy, but I am empty. I have everything, but I enjoy nothing. I laugh during the day, but I cry at night. My soul is never at peace. My success is built on the souls of innocent people who bought amagwinya from me with clean hearts.

I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if my soul can ever be clean again. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe this is the true price of the wealth I chased so blindly.

I am alive, but I am not living.I am successful, but I am not free.And every night, the spirits of Bosman remind me of who I truly am.