I didn’t have the money, but I was so determined to do my master’s that I took a loan from the office. I already had a loan on my salary that I was being deducted for, so at the end of the month, I had almost nothing to spend. Life was very hard for me, but I felt that after my master’s, I would be promoted or get a better job with a good salary, and then life would return to normal.

I was then dating Abby. She was a very understanding girlfriend. She didn’t ask for money from me, and even when she did and I told her I didn’t have it, she didn’t fight or throw tantrums. She found another way to get the money.

When I started school and life got harder, I relied heavily on Abby. I would take small amounts from her as loans. I would eat at her place and sometimes take some of the meals home.

One day, my mom fell sick, and they needed money to take her to the hospital. I called all my siblings to send their contributions, but I didn’t have the money to add. As usual, I went to Abby for a loan, and she said she didn’t have it. I sent the money I had collected from my siblings to my mom without my contribution. I made her a promise that mine was coming later.

That very week, I met Abby in town. She picked her purse from her bag, and a white envelope followed. She said, “Eiii, I have to send this money to the bank before I misplace it ooo.”

She was talking about that white envelope. There was money in it.

Two days later, I was on a trotro with her when I spotted the same envelope in her bag. Before we alighted from the trotro, I stole the envelope from her bag.

She didn’t realise it had been stolen until days later. She called me.

“Fred, I’m dead. Someone stole my money. It’s not even mine. I’m dead.”

I asked how much. I asked where she had placed the money. I mentioned names and asked if she had asked them about it.

“Or you’ve misplaced it in your room somewhere?” I asked.

I went to her place after work that day and started searching with her. We left no place unturned in her room. She believed someone in her office might have stolen the money.

“It’s been in my bag. I didn’t check on it, so I don’t know when it got stolen. Someone in the office stole it. That’s the only place I leave my bag unattended.”

I suggested she speak to all of them and find out who stole the money. She went to the office and caused a scene there, and her colleagues got angry that she was calling them thieves.

She came back very angry. She told me, “Whoever stole that money will never know peace. I will ensure that. They don’t know what I can do.”

She said the money was GHC 5,000, but it wasn’t up to that. It was GHC 200 short. I counted it when I picked it up.

Two days later, she was still talking about the money and how she was going to curse the person. I begged her to let it go. I told her, “Aren’t you a Christian again? And you want to curse? Leave that miserable thief to God, and God will deal with them for you.”

She retorted, “Leave them to God? That will take too long. I’ve already spoken to someone who knows a fetish priest. She’s handling it for me. That person will know no peace until they return my money.”

My knees got wobbly. I wanted to confess, but I also believed she couldn’t do it. I would go to bed and pray. I would wake up at dawn and pray again, telling God to change her mind.

“I will pay her someday when I get the money. Please don’t let her do it.”

Slowly, she stopped talking about the money. Nothing happened to me as the days went by, so I believed God had listened to my prayers.

A few months later, I intentionally brought it up again and asked if she actually did it. She said, “Yeah, the person assured me she had done it, but I didn’t see any results. Maybe it didn’t work.”

Eight years later, everything happening in my life makes me feel that the curses might have worked after all. I’ve never known peace. My mom died. If my siblings hadn’t contributed money and sent it to me as transport fare, I wouldn’t have been able to attend my mom’s funeral.

Yet, I have a master’s degree and currently have no job.

I would go for an interview and ace it. They would be excited and even promise me they were going to call very soon. Soon never came. I would follow up for several weeks until I gave up.

I’ve prayed about it. I’ve seen men of God who poured anointing oil on me and shouted at the storms of my life to calm down, but the next storm always got bigger than the previous one.

Abby is married now and has kids. She’s doing very well in life too.

I had no option but to call and confess, hoping that would set me free. When I told her I stole the money, she was shocked. I told her it wasn’t up to GHC 5,000, and she laughed.

I begged her to call her friend and ask her to reverse the curses. She told me, “I don’t believe my friend even did anything. She lied to me so I would let it go.”

I retorted, “She did. It’s the only explanation for what I’m going through now. I’m a master’s degree holder, but I don’t have a home. After my mother’s funeral, I couldn’t go back to anything. I’m stuck here. Is this normal? Please speak to her.”

She came back to tell me she had spoken to her friend, and the friend confessed that, indeed, she hadn’t even attempted to do what they had agreed to do. Whatever was happening to me was sheer coincidence and had nothing to do with them.

Abby sent me money. She said she wasn’t angry because she knew what I was going through. Her only concern was why I watched her go through what she went through, knowing very well that I stole the money.

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And then she said something that almost made me shed tears.

She said, “If whatever you’re going through is because of what I said or attempted to do, I hope my forgiveness will reset the scale and bring everything back to normal. You will no longer suffer because you’ve been forgiven.”

I’ve prayed over her words. I feel lighter now, as if something has been lifted off my back. Maybe that’s the first sign that my burden has been lifted.

Economically, life is still the same. Abby sent something. She said I should call when I’m in need. I’m always in need, but I’m hoping a miracle happens to me soon.

—Fred

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