He sacrificed his mother to become rich… Today, he buries his children one by one

PART1

He sacrificed his mother to become rich.  Today, his children are dying one by one.  Welcome to French African Folkal.  The sound of the engine was still rumbling in his ears.  His father André was working under a large truck that day .  Hands covered in grease, face drenched in sweat.  Then suddenly, the weight dropped.

  The truck crushed him.  Died on the spot.  In the courtyard, his wife Mado collapsed.  She screamed, but no one could bring André back. The little junior was only 2 years old. Too young to understand.  But it was on that day that he became fatherless .  Mado vowed never to remarry.  Everything for his son.

  She would get up at dawn, her basins of cassava on her head, shouting at the market to sell a few pieces.  She would come home exhausted in the evening, but Junior had to eat.  She deprived herself, she skipped meals, but her son always had a little food on his plate. The house was a small, poor hut with nothing.

  No comfort, no luxury.  Just a mother bleeding for her son and a child growing up in poverty.  Junior had grown up.  The time to go to school had arrived.  Mado had fought.  She had paid for the notebooks and the registration. even if it cost him his last savings.  But as soon as he entered the schoolyard, Junior understood that he was not like the others.

Children like Patrick or Michel arrived with clean, well-ironed uniforms.  Their shoes shone like mirrors.  Junior, on the other hand , was wearing a torn, patched uniform that he had been dragging around for years.  Her shoes were old, worn-out sandals, open, ready to fall apart at any moment.

  In class, he could feel the stares.  Some of my classmates were making fun of me .  He lowered his head, he endured it.  At home, it was the same routine.  Cassava, morning, noon, and night, nothing else.  One evening, Junior had exploded in front of his mother.  Mom, since Dad died, you’ve only taught me one verse.  Vanity of vanities.

All is vanity.  But why don’t I experience these vanities?  Why does Patrick always have clean clothes and I’ve been wearing the same torn uniform for 4 years?  Why are my shoes like this?  You are a bad mother.  You should have let me die with Dad.  Those words hit Maado like a knife.

  For the first time, she had cried in front of him.  Yet, she deprived herself so that he would have food.  She skipped meals to pay for his schooling.  But that night, her only son, the one for whom she had given everything, had cursed her.  That evening, Mado had prepared yam with a little red palm oil.  She had called her son softly.

  Junior, come and eat, it’s ready.  Junior has arrived.  He looked at the plate.  His eyes were full of anger.  Then, with a kick, he knocked the food over.  “You are cursed!”, he had shouted to his mother. Mado remained frozen.  Her eyes filled with tears.  She had never responded to her son with violence.  She was coping, but that day her heart was bleeding.

  Junior, barely 12 years old, was already starting to hang out with the boys in the neighborhood.  The bad ones, they smoked.  He laughed loudly with them.  He no longer came home like he used to. His mother’s word no longer mattered. Little by little, he became someone else. Junior was already 12 years old.  In the street, he was seen with the local thugs.

  Cigarette in mouth, nervous laugh, harsh gesture.  He was growing further and further away from his mother.  Mado saw him changing.  She was talking.  She pleaded: “My son, listen to me, you are going to lose yourself.”  But Junior wasn’t listening to him anymore. Her eyes no longer had the softness they once did .

  At 16, he was already a known thief in the village.  People were afraid of him.  Rumors were circulating. Madvenu’s son became a bandit.  Mad, she walked with her head down, ashamed, but she continued to pray in silence.  One evening, without warning, Junior disappeared.  Not a word, not a goodbye, just silence and an empty house.

  He had left the village, heading for the capital.  When Junior arrived in town, he had nothing, no money, no house.  The only thing he had was the street.  He quickly found his element: the highwaymen, those who lived by theft, robbery, and everything that was wrong.  Junior became one of them. Meanwhile, back in the village, Mado was worried.

  She hadn’t heard from him again .  Those nights were filled with tears.  She prayed: “My womb, my son, I hope you are still breathing.” When telephones began circulating even in the village, Madvait made the effort to buy one.  She just wanted to hear her son’s voice, and the day he called, she cried tears of joy.  She shouted, “Hello Junior, is that you? Are you alive?” But even on the phone, Junior remained tough.

  Mom, if I’ve become like this , it’s because of you.  Poor mom, you did nothing for me. Each call, instead of comforting me, hurt me even more.  She remained silent, but her heart broke with every word.  One evening, Junior and two of his friends, Capo and Fabrice, were sitting and drinking.  The discussion took a turn.  They were talking about their life as bandits.

PART2

risks from the police who hunted them down every day.  Capo said, “This job is too risky; you can end up dead for nothing. We need to look for real wealth.” Fabrice added: “You see, there are ministers, great men. They dabbled in fetishes and today they are rich. We can do it too.”  Junior looked around.

  Her eyes shone with envy.  It was decided. They found an old witch doctor, Papa Morau.  When they arrived at his house, the man stared at them for a long time before speaking.  Nothing here is free.  You want wealth, but you have to give something in return.  Capo said calmly: “I am giving up my son, that is my sacrifice.

” Fabrice said, “I don’t need children. I give away my offspring.” Then Papa Mokili turned to Junior. “And you, what do you give ?” Junior lowered his head, clenched his teeth, and then said harshly, “I give away my mother.” When Junior said he was offering his mother, the old witch doctor Papa Morau stared at him for a long time.

 Then he smiled, a chilling smile. “Your wealth will come, but there is one condition. You must go back to see your mother. You must make her happy for just one day, only one day. You must cook for her, bring her joy. After that, your sacrifice will be complete.” Junior nodded without hesitation. For him, it was just a formality. He gathered his things.

He called his friends Capo and Fabrice to come with him . The plan was clear. Return to the village, find his mother, give her what he had never given.  Then they performed the ritual. They took the bus. The journey was long, but Junior was smiling. In his mind, he already saw himself rich, respected, dressed like the grown-ups.

 When the bus arrived in the village, everyone saw Junior get off. Sunglasses on his face, designer shoes, Abigucci. He shone from head to toe. The young people in the neighborhood whispered: “It’s Junior, Mad’s son, the one who disappeared.” His mother, Madise, in front of her house.  She looked up and her heart almost stopped.

  She recognized her son.  She got up and ran, tears in her eyes.  Junior, it’s you.  He, for the first time in years, smiled gently.  Yes Mom, it’s me.  I became somebody.  Today, vanity of vanities, even poverty will pass away.  Mado held her tightly against her.  The neighbors were watching.  He couldn’t believe it.

  The lost son had returned, dressed like a king.  Junior had pulled out a large wad of money. In front of the neighbors, he counted nearly $3,000.  He put it in his mother’s hands.  Mom, all of this is for you, you won’t cry anymore. The people around had their eyes wide open.  Some were whispering: “Mou and Malikunya, that’s a lot of money.

” Junior had also brought out a brand new loincloth, a super wax print.  Mom, this is for you.  You’re going to dress like a queen.  Today, your son came to wipe away your tears.  Then he added: “Mom, today I’m the one cooking for you.”  He bought a goat, some condiments, and cooked everything himself.

  In the evening, he served Mado’s meal.  “Mom, eat. Your son prepared this today.” Mado smiled.  She ate with joy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt such happiness.  When night fell, Junior got up.  Mom, tonight I’m sleeping in a hotel.  I’ll be back tomorrow morning . Mado looked at him, her heart filled with peace.  Go my son, may God bless you.

The next day, the sun had already risen.  From 10am to 2pm, the door to Mado’s house remained closed.  Not a sound, not a sign.  The neighbors were starting to murmur.  She hasn’t gone out since last night.   What’s going on ?  There was a knock at the door.  Nothing.  Silence.  A heavy sense of unease was setting in.

  Everyone remembered the previous day.  Junior had returned.  He had given money.  He had cooked, he had partied.  Her mother was laughing like never before, and this morning, nothing.  The door remained closed as if yesterday’s happiness had swallowed the entire house.  The neighbors were starting to get worried.  We knocked gently.

Mom Mad and mom opens. No response, so we hit harder. Mama Mado, you’re still asleep. The silence was oppressive.  The people of the neighborhood have gathered together.  One person said, “No, that’s not normal. Yesterday she was fine. She was laughing with her son. We ca n’t leave her like this.”  So, two men made the decision.

  They used their shoulders to push each other around .  Boom!  The door gave way.  Inside, the smell was heavy.  Madado was found lying on his bed.  She didn’t move. Eyes closed, body cold.  She was dead.  The women in the neighborhood started screaming.  The children were crying outside.  The rumor spread quickly. Mother Mad has left.  While the neighborhood was grieving, Junior was at the hotel.  He was laughing with his friends.

  A glass in his hand, sunglasses on his nose.  The music played, the bottles lined up.  A young man from the village arrived running, out of breath.  He shouted Junior, Junior! Junior turned around calmly.  What else?  The boy looked him straight in the eyes.  Your mom.  Your mom, Mad, is dead. A silence fell over the terrace.

  Everyone was staring at Junior.  We expected him to get up , to cry, to shout.  But he took a drag on his cigarette and replied coldly.  I heard. The messenger insisted, shocked.  Junior, are you listening to me?  We’re talking about your mother.  She is dead. Junior raised his hand.  He repeated calmly.  I heard. He took a sip from his glass as if the news didn’t affect him.

  The next day, the whole neighborhood was talking about it.  Mado’s funeral didn’t resemble a mourning ceremony, but a celebration.  Junior had taken out the money.  Musicians were playing, the women were almost there, their clothes were dazzling.  People were saying he really did bury his mother like a queen.

  The coffin was richly decorated.  People watched, their reactions ranging from admiration to unease. Some were murmuring.  He’s doing too much.  It seems as if he is rejoicing in his mother’s death.  When evening came, when everyone had gone home, Junior returned to the cemetery alone. a bottle in hand.  He sat down in front of the tomb.  He drank.

  He spat on the still-fresh earth.  For once, you were useful to me.  Thanks to you, I have everything today. After that, he got up to go home.  As he left the cemetery, he heard a whisper behind him, like a voice calling him from the dark.  He turned around suddenly. No one, just the wind.  He shrugged and left without looking back.

Back in Kinshasa, the party began. The money was flowing.  Junior brought out the luxury cars, the designer clothes. He controlled the weather. Over time, he chose a wife. A beautiful woman with generous curves, a woman to his liking.  With her, he had four children, one daughter and three sons.

  Outside, everything seemed perfect.  A wealthy couple, an enviable family.  But at night, everything changes. Junior began to dream about his mother. She would appear and repeat the same verse she used to tell him when he was little.  Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. He woke up with a start, sweating.

  He was thinking to himself, “What kind of dream is this after all these years?”   In the days that followed, it was no longer just dreams.  Sometimes, while sleeping, he would feel breathing near his bed.  He opened his eyes.  He saw figures outside the window, strange laughter coming from the house.  He asked his wife, “Can’t you see? Can’t you hear?”  She answered calmly.

  “I can’t see anything.”  Junior was beginning to get troubled. The wealth was there, but his mind was beginning to waver.  One night, Junior was sleeping next to his wife.  Around three in the morning, he sensed a presence. When he opened his eyes, his heart froze.  His mother, Madbout, was in the corner of the room.

  She stared at him , without moving, with that same reproachful look.  Junior jumped.  He shouted.  But what is this ?  His wife woke up, panicked. What ?  What is it?  Can’t you see ?  Look over there. She turned around, nothing.  The corner of the room was empty.  Junior was trembling, sweat was running down his face.

  His wife, confused, said softly to him: “I ca n’t see anything.”  The next day, Junior went to see his friends, those with whom he had made the pact.  First, Capo, the one who had given up his son.  Capo had a tired, troubled face.  He told her, “I see my child too. He comes looking for me at night. He laughs, he calls to me, I no longer have peace.

”  Then Junior went to Fabrice’s house, the one who had sacrificed his offspring. Fabrice looked at him calmly.  I can’t see anything.  Since I donated, I sleep peacefully. Junior went home even more troubled.  At Capo’s, it was already the beginning of the madness.  At Fabrice’s house, total silence.

  And at his house, it was his mother who came back every night.  The days passed.  Junior was receiving more and more news about the hood.  His friend was no longer the same.  He was talking to himself. He sometimes shouted in the street.  The neighbors said, “Capo’s son comes at night. We hear him crying. We hear him shouting in his house.” One evening, Junior went to visit him.

 Capo was sitting on the floor, his eyes red, his body trembling. He whispered, “He’s here, he’s here, my son, he’s watching me.” A few weeks later, Capo completely lost his mind. His madness led him to the hospital, and then he died. Junior was scared. His heart was racing. He thought, “If it starts like this for me too, I’m doomed.” So he started looking for solutions, witch doctors everywhere.

Every address he was given, he went to. Finally, an old witch doctor told him, “Your problem is your mother’s grave.”  You must return to the village.  You need to hold a ceremony. Chain the grave, otherwise it will always come out to haunt you.  Junior went back to the village.  With rituals, incantations, symbolic chains.

  They sealed Madu’s tomb .  The fetish priest gave him amulets, gris-gris charms to wear. Junior came home reassured.  He believed that this time peace would return to his home. Junior had returned with his amulets, necklaces, and charms that he wore day and night.  He had also hung them on the windows and doors. The witch doctor had said, “Your mother will never go out again.

”  But it continued at night .  Junior woke up with a start, drenched in sweat.  His mother appeared in his dreams, always repeating the same verse.  “Vanity of vanities”.  All is vanity.  He could hear footsteps in the corridor, muffled laughter.  Sometimes he felt a warm breath next to his ear.  His wife, worried, said to him: “Junior, what’s wrong with you? I’m sleeping soundly, I don’t see anything.

”  Junior couldn’t take it anymore .  His heart was on fire, his head was tormented.  So, he decided to travel.  “Honey, we’re leaving. Let’s go to France, let’s get away from it all. I can’t find peace anymore.” He packed his suitcases. The whole family followed: his wife, his daughter, his three sons. Destination: France.

 There, he wanted to celebrate his eldest son’s 18th birthday. He hoped that far from home, far from the graves, the spirits would stay behind, but he was wrong. In France, the party was in full swing. Everyone was laughing, the tables were full, the music was playing. Junior’s eldest son was blowing out his 18 candles.

 But at the back of the room, Junior saw a figure. A woman, motionless, her hand resting on her cheek. His heart sank, he stared. The more he looked, the more he recognized her. It was his mother. Junior stood up abruptly, his voice trembling. “Do you see? Look over there, that’s my mother.” The guests turned their heads, but no one saw this that he saw.

Embarrassed glances fell upon him. Some murmured. He’s delirious. His wife pulled him by the arm, shame etched on her face. “Stop, Junior. Are you trying to humiliate us? I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well. If this continues, I’m leaving you.” Junior trembled. He swore he had seen it, but for the others, there was nothing there.

 The next day, Junior and his family were gathered in the living room. They were eating, laughing, everything seemed normal. His eldest son, 18, had locked himself in his room. A few minutes later, a piercing scream rang out . “Ah! Come quickly!” Everyone ran. They found the boy lying on the floor. His body was convulsing, his mouth full of foam.

Junior was shouting his name, shaking it. But his eyes had already rolled back. His breath had stopped. Panic, screams erupted in the house. The mother collapsed, The brothers were crying. Junior, however, remained frozen. His son had just fallen like that, without warning. A few days later, the body was brought back for the funeral.

 The entire family was plunged into mourning. The news spread everywhere. Junior’s eldest son had died suddenly. And in the neighbors’ whispers, one phrase kept recurring: “His mother’s curse continues.” The house hadn’t even reached the 40th day of mourning for the eldest son. Everyone was still crying. The mourning clothes were still on their shoulders.

 But the curse had n’t run its course. One night, the little girl, Junior’s only daughter, went to bed as usual. In the morning, she never woke up. When the mother entered the room, she cried out: “No, not again, not my child.” The neighbors rushed over, and the little girl was found lifeless. A silent death without explanation.

 In the house, the weeping intensified. Women beat their chests, men shook their heads. People were saying, “This is too much, this isn’t normal.”  “A family that buries two children one after the other , it’s a curse that strikes.” And Junior, he was inconsolable. He no longer spoke. His eyes remained vacant.

 After the little girl’s death, the house was nothing but a place of screams and heavy silence. Junior watched the coffins pile up one after another. His wife observed everything: her husband’s nightmares, his nighttime vigils, his cries, the manifestations he claimed to see. One evening, she sat on the bed, her eyes swollen with fatigue.

 She said calmly, but with firm resolve: “I can’t go on like this anymore.”  I promised children but look, he’s dwarfing. I’m leaving.  Don’t call me anymore.  I don’t want you and your stories.  She packed her things, put her clothes in a suitcase, and took the children who were staying with her.  Then she left the house without looking back.

  Junior remained there, seated, unable to move.  He could still hear her voice echoing.  I’m leaving, don’t call me anymore.   That was the end of their marriage.  In all this chaos, a truth emerged. Junior had a child with another woman.  No one talked much about that child, but he was the only one who seemed to be spared.

  No illness, no nightmares, no sudden death. People were murmuring.  Look closely, these children from the official home fall to one. But the one on the outside, he’s alive. As if the curse had chosen its target.   The weakened Junior saw it as an irony of fate.  The divorce was finalized shortly afterwards.

  His wife was no longer there.  The paperwork was clear: every man for himself. Rumors spread quickly in the city.  A beautiful woman, when she leaves a marriage, you’ll find her married somewhere else within 6 months.   That’s exactly what happened. Junior’s ex-wife remarried a rich, well-known, and respected man.  While Junior was falling apart, she was smiling in her new home.

  The impact was too much for Junior.  One morning, he collapsed, a stroke, one side of his body paralyzed.  From that point on, he was no longer in control.  He soiled himself , unable to get up on his own, unable to wash himself.  The servants who worked for him began to leave one by one.

  The friends, too, were drifting away .  Junior, the man who made the city tremble with his money, had become dependent, reduced to a weak body.  He remained lying down, his head still conscious, but the rest of him destroyed.  In his fall, Junior had lost everything.  His wife, his children, his workers, his friends, all had drifted away.  All except one.

  He was his friend from the pact, the one who had given his offspring. He had decided to take care of his brothers’ and sisters’ children as if they were his own .  He was the only one still loyal, the only one who would come and sit next to Junior, talk to him, listen to him, even in his condition.  Junior saw him as his last support.

  One day, Junior received a message.  She was his ex-wife.  The words pierced his heart like a knife.   Are you happy?  Two years later, you see where we are.  Our third child also died.  Junior cried out, tears in his eyes.  I don’t want to lose all my children.  His body was trembling.  Her weak hands couldn’t even hold her phone.  The pain was too much.

So Junior begged his friend, “Take me back to the village. I have to ask my mother for forgiveness. I can’t live like this anymore.” They set off. Junior, sitting in a wheelchair, looked at his phone. His eyes fell on a photo posted by his ex-wife. She was posing with their youngest child and another man.

 Junior lowered his head weakly. Tears flowed freely . Arriving at the cemetery, they pushed Junior’s wheelchair to Madado’s grave, in front of the cold headstone. His body trembled, his eyes filled with tears. He raised his hand weakly, then whispered, “Mom, forgive me.”  I spoke ill of you. I dared to curse you.  I even had the courage to sacrifice you.

  Look at what I’ve become today.  I have nothing left .  I lost my children.  My wife has left.  I’m like a living dead man.  “Mom, forgive me.” He leaned forward. Tears flowed unabated. His voice broke. Today, I understand the vanity of vanities. All is vanity. The wind blew around him. His friend, standing behind him, bowed his head, unable to hold back his own tears.

Junior beat his chest with his weak hand, repeating again, “Mom, forgive me!” Still sitting before his mother’s grave, Junior wept, his head bowed, his hands trembling. His friend tried to pull him up. “Come on, get up, that’s enough!” But Junior had no strength left. His breath stopped there before the grave.

His head fell sideways. Silence! His friend cried, “Help!”  Help! But it was too late.  Junior had died in front of the woman who had disowned him, in front of his own mother’s grave.  He was buried right next to her.  Two graves side by side, the mother and the son. The only child left of Junior was Chiza’s, but as he grew up, he too had taken his father’s path: weapons, the street, violence.

  People in the neighborhood were saying, he became a bandit like his father.  The curse had not finished its work.  This story shows that a life without respect for one’s parents is a doomed life.  Junior had everything. Money, clothes, cars, a beautiful wife, children.  But it all started because he had dared to sacrifice the one he had brought into the world.

  We often forget that a mother’s blessing is worth more than gold, and her curse can destroy even the greatest wealth.  And you, if you were in Junior’s place, would you have chosen wealth with sacrifice or poverty with peace?  Team, if this story touched you, don’t forget to subscribe, share and leave a comment.

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