How my husband used our only son for Ritual because of Poverty – Depressed woman shares

 

My family’s story changed from grass to grace almost overnight. My husband and I were as poor as church rats but today, I can boast of a house worth more than a billion (including how much was used to acquire the land at Ikoyi).

A garage worth more than some people’s houses in choice areas on Lagos island.

I have a chain of businesses to my name and I’m the envy of every woman that knows me personally. Because I know what poverty is, I have become a cheerful giver. I have doled out more than 20 million to the less privileged and I don’t even own a foundation.

During our wedding, I rented my wedding gown and didn’t pay the balance until two months after. That is how poor we were. I was selling second hand clothes while my husband marketed expensive drugs for several companies.

One day,  my husband came home with 100 thousand dollars. I was scared and asked him where he got it. He said one white man where he works was relocating and gave him the money as goodwill.

This is the story we told family and the priests at church. He said he had to travel to do some business with the money and I agreed.

In a space of two months we had more money than I could ever imagine.

I didn’t question it, partly because I was more than happy to become rich.

We have two kids, two boys. Now, around this time, our first born, a perfectly normal and healthy boy started acting strange and violent. We have taken him abroad and local hospitals to no avail. We then took him to a Pastor who after 3 days prayer told me to ask my husband how he got his wealth.

That was how my problem began. I confronted my husband and he denied it and called the Pastor fake. He then travelled and for about 1 month he did not talk to me or ask of his son. One day I was told he just came home carried some stuffs and travelled abroad. As I speak now he is almost 6 months away and we can’t reach him. I had to move out of his house and deposited all his money in an orphanage then started doing petty business from my father’s house. I am glad that the boy is recovering his senses little by little. I have vowed that even he returns tomorrow I can’t marry a retualist.