21/06/2025
THOSE ATTENDING FUNERALS THIS WEEKEND OR IN THE FUTURE, PLEASE READ THIS AND DONT REPEAT MY MISTAKE.
PLEASE POST ANONYMOUSLY. I THINK DEATH IS WAITING FOR ME.
I donāt know how to start thisā¦ my hands are shaking. I havenāt slept properly in weeks. My house smells like sickness, death, and fear. I can feel something moving around us, and I know it all started with meābecause I was greedy. Please, donāt judge me. Just hear me out.
Last month, I was helping cook at a funeral in Venda. It was a big funeralāpeople came from all over, and we cooked the whole night before the burial. There were huge pots of beef stew, pap, chakalaka, and even sour porridge with spices. People brought expensive ingredientsāreal meat, the good aromat, special braai spice, garlic, onions, even boxed juice for the family. You could see this family went all out to bury their own.
Chrisā¦ when the funeral was almost over, and people were distracted with speeches and goodbyes, I stole.
I took:
Two big packets of meat (some cooked, some raw)
Spices (a whole bottle of Robertsonās spice mix, aromat, and something called āfuneral masalaā)
A 2L bottle of orange juice
Three containers of sour pap and gravy
And even leftover bones meant to be thrown out
I packed them in a black plastic bag and pretended I was throwing rubbish out. I didnāt even flinch. I got home and celebrated like I won the Lotto. We feasted, Chris. My kids, my husband, even our dogāwe all ate.
But now we are cursed.
Since that day, nobody in my house has been able to go to the toilet. Not even to fart. Itās like our stomachs are locked with invisible chains. We feel full, bloated, dying slowly from the inside. Itās been over a month now, Chris. My husband is grey in the face. My kids cry all day and all night, holding their stomachs. Weāve all lost weight, but the bloating is worse every day.
Weāve tried everything. I bought every single thing people recommended:
Laxatives
Senna tea
Castor oil
Epsom salt
Aloe juice
Holy water
Even Khubalo from a prophet
NOTHING is working. We even tried steaming with mhlonyane and drinking vinegar water. Still nothing. The worst part? The dog that ate the bones is dead. It died screaming like a baby, twisting, crying, until its tongue turned black and its eyes went white.
Now the fridge smells like burnt blood. The frozen meat I stole has turned black and itās leaking thick red water. I clean it every day but the smell comes back.
We hear noises in the kitchen at nightāpots falling, footsteps, and a wet breathing sound. I wake up to find footprints on the floorābare feet, but muddy and red, as if someone walked in from a river. Last night, my child started sleep-talking, whispering, "Ma, why is that gogo watching us from the corner?ā But no one was there.
Iāve gone and bought back everything I stole. Every spice, every piece of meat, every bottle of juiceāI even bought extra, hoping it would undo what I did. Itās all packed in a clean box, wrapped and ready. But Iām terrified to go and face the family I stole from. How do I tell them, āIām the one who disrespected your funeralā? What if they beat me? What if they curse me even more?
But Chrisā¦ if I donāt go soon, we might all die in this house. My husband is vomiting yellow water. My children are starting to shake in their sleep. I donāt even recognise myself anymore. I feel like something has entered my bodyāsomething rotten, ancient, and unforgiving.
I need help. I need prayers. I need a prophet or a powerful sangoma to tell me what to do before we all become ghosts in this house.
Please, Chrisā¦ I didnāt mean to steal from the dead. But now Iām being haunted by them.
ā The Woman Who Stole Funeral Food šš„
(Venda)
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