My Cousin Sold an Albino Child and Now She’s Paying With Her Mind
Sometimes life shows you a kind of darkness you never imagined you would witness in your own family. I grew up with my cousin. She was quiet, soft-spoken, and always helpful. Nobody could have predicted the kind of secret she was hiding behind her smile. Nobody knew the storm she was creating with her own hands.
The missing child didn’t even live far. She stayed just five houses away from our grandmother’s home. We all knew her. We saw her every day. That little girl used to play with other children in the street and greet elders like a little angel. So when she disappeared, the whole community went into panic. Searching day and night. Calling her name. Knocking on doors. Crying. Praying.
And my cousin—who already knew exactly where the child was—was right there with everyone. She searched. She held the mother when she cried. She even cooked for the search teams. She acted like she cared more than all of us. That is what still breaks my heart today. To help people look for someone you sold… that is a different level of evil.
We didn’t suspect her. Not even once. Until months later, when her mind suddenly broke.
She started talking to herself, staring at empty corners like she was seeing something the rest of us couldn’t. She wouldn't sleep. She paced around our grandmother’s yard the whole night. At first, we thought it was stress or maybe she was bewitched. But then things became clearer and darker. That’s when we learned the truth — she sold the albino child to a foreign sangoma who promised her riches and a better life.
But instead of wealth, she received madness.
The most painful part is her new routine. Every evening around 6pm, she walks to the missing girl’s house. She stands at the gate the entire night like a security guard, staring at the door, the windows, the yard… as if she’s waiting for the child to come back. At 6am, she walks back home, eats, sleeps the whole day, then wakes up again in the evening and returns to that same gate.
Every single day.
Rain or shine.
Like she’s trapped in a punishment she cannot escape.
We begged the child’s family to involve the police. We asked them to open a case, to let her be taken for help, or at least get her removed from their gate. But they refused. They told us they went to a sangoma and begged for justice, and the sangoma told them the person responsible for the child’s disappearance would never know rest. They said what she is going through now is the punishment: she will guard their home day and night and never sleep in peace.
The community hates us now. They blame our whole family for something we didn’t even know about. People whisper when we walk past. Some even point fingers. It's like we are carrying her sins on our backs.
The police tried. They took her to the hospital several times. But every time she gets discharged, she walks straight back to the gate as if something is pulling her there. Like something owns her.
Watching her like this hurts, but remembering what she did hurts even more. She destroyed a child’s life, destroyed a family, destroyed our reputation… and now she’s destroying herself slowly, piece by piece.
This situation taught me something terrifying:
When you harm an innocent soul, especially a child… the consequences don’t wait for the next life. They arrive right here, right now. Sometimes they come for your peace. Sometimes your sanity. Sometimes your whole destiny.
And in my cousin’s case, her punishment is to stand at that gate until the truth finally balances itself.
Social Plugin