One day, these men performed their rituals, and what followed was nothing short of shocking. My mother’s voice changed, her appearance transformed, her eyes bulged out, and she alternated between laughter and sobbing. I was utterly terrified. My heart raced; I felt like I was witnessing something supernatural.
The healers addressed the entity, demanding its name, but it wouldn’t answer. Eventually, it spoke, and other things followed. One of the healers slapped my mother during the process, which broke my heart. To me, she was still my mother, not this “entity.” The experience was so intense and convincing that anyone in that room would have believed it was real.
The next day, my mother acted as though she had no memory of the incident. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I just felt like I fell asleep and woke up exhausted.”
For months, we believed a demon had appeared, been exorcised, and spoken through her. Then, one day, she dropped a bombshell:
“Do you remember that episode?” she asked. “I faked it all.”
I was stunned. None of it was real? That revelation crushed me. How could she fake something so convincing? When I asked why she did it, her response was even more painful.
“I had to protect you,” she claimed. “Those people were saying you were possessed too. I did it all for you.”
Her words twisted the narrative, making herself out to be a martyr who sacrificed her image for my sake. As a child, I believed her. I thought she had endured humiliation to shield me from harm. But now, I see it for what it was—a manipulative stunt designed to garner attention and control.
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