Back in the 1980s, it was compulsory to do
military service, and at age seventeen I went to 8 SAI Infantry in Upington. I
won’t mention any names, but the South African military had quite a few
high-level Satanists and Satanic priests within its ranks. Whilst in the army,
I met up with other guys who were with the dark side, guys from Hillbrow, one
of the hot spots for drugs in South Africa.

One of the guys I met (who was about nineteen
or so) befriended me. He was quite intelligent, and we had long conversations
about some dark stuff, like how to control people, and how to perform various
rituals and curses. He could control his own heartbeat, much to the amusement
of the medics.

In the military, I realised that I could read people very well. I could pick up
on different personality types, and how to control them and curse them. It was
sort of a “Satanic Gift”, and it helped me to manipulate others in certain

I was eventually transferred from 8 SAI to Voortrekkerhoogte. It was there we
things really started to escalate.

In the spiritual realm, demons are aware of every move you make. I was immediately
spotted by the Satanic covens when I entered this base because Satan had
revealed my presence to them.

Then one day, I completely lost control as my personalities switched. I still
can’t remember what happened that day, but I can clearly remember the aftermath.


I remember waking up in Ward 24, the army’s
Psychiatric Ward. In front of my room were two Military Police officers (MPs),
and I had to face many Psychiatrists and Psychologists.

During my stay at Ward 24, the psychologist who had evaluated me asked some in-depth questions on Satanism in the military.

Funnily enough, his cousin was admitted to the ward, and the first person the psychologist’s cousin made contact with was me. I instantly knew that this guy was a Satanic priest. He had been admitted to Ward 24 for one reason only – and that reason was me. I was told this by a medic who had overheard a conversation between this guy and his psychologist cousin.

The psychologist’s cousin (let’s call him Mervin; not his real name) started working my case to join him, and he became demonically furious because I knew that he was planting a trap for me. I was placed in a room and Mervin in an open ward. His bed was (quite conveniently) placed opposite my room.

There was a window in my room, quite high and heavy, that could only be closed from the inside with a hook. It wasn’t possible for anyone to close it from the outside, as it was so high. Sometimes this window would close with a loud crash, then open again. When this happened, Mervin would look at me, grinning.

In the early morning hours, Mervin would leave the ward, returning only when the shift changed. One of the medics decided to follow Mervin, only to return white as a sheet. He was completely shaken as he told me that Mervin had gone to the old morgue and that several people joined him there. The medic soon realised that they had been performing Satanic rituals.

Mervin approached me a few days later and told me to keep quiet about Satanism in the military, or else he’d show me what they’d do to me. This was no idle threat. He disappeared soon afterward, and no one knew where he went.

I completely underestimated their power and didn’t keep quiet, telling the Psychiatric panel what I experience under their hands. Within a few days, I was certified by the Military and sent to Weskoppies, a Psychiatric Institution in South Africa.

I soon discovered what it really meant to be certified: You lose all control of your life. You can’t leave, and you’re completely stripped of your freedom. You essentially become a prisoner.

I was taken to Weskoppies in a military ambulance, escorted by MPs. The main road to Weskoppies is small and crosses a railroad line. I could see over the stickers on the window patients who were just walking around. It seemed pretty normal at first, but as we approached Ward 10 (where I was kept), the MPs became restless and just wanted to get rid of me.

When we arrived at Ward 10, I looked over at the building and saw this guy who was bald and had cut marks all over him. From an early age, I used to have this dream where I saw a guy with a shaven head in pajamas, looking awfully similar to Aleister Crowley (Crowley was an Occultist/Satanist, who believed himself to be the antichrist and was responsible for many child sacrifices during his time.)

Well, there was the guy from my dreams, just standing there and clapping. It might sound funny, but in my dream, I was always afraid of this situation, and here I was, seeing the guy from my dreams.

The ambulance door was opened and I was escorted to the doorway of Ward 10, waiting on the nursing staff to come and fetch me. The staff opened the door (it looked like a cage door); the MPs signed me over and hastily left. I wished that I was one of them, able to leave this place.

I was escorted to my room, which was basically a cell. It had a toilet and a mattress, and a hole in the door through which I received my food. They locked me up, and I was left all alone. I remember there being a Gideon Bible in that room, but I wasn’t interested in reading it at all. I knew who Jesus was, but at that time He was the same as all the other people in my life who had turned against me. The first few weeks I spent there, I wasn’t allowed out of my room except for a specially allotted amount of time in the courtyard.

I lost all freedom; I had only the clothes on my back and very little else, which was safeguarded when I was signed in. They even took my belt and shoelaces, as a precaution in case I would attempt to commit suicide. I’m glad they took it from me, as I would’ve ended my life right there, given the opportunity.

The only human interaction I got was when my meals were given to me, at about five P.M. The most wonderful sound to me was the sound of my food arriving because that was the only time I would see a human face that day. They gave me bread and tea, with lots of milk in it – I hate tea with milk to
this day.

I completely broke down that night, crying because there wasn’t any hope anymore.

My parents had started praying for me, and my extended family was informed of my admission to the institution. People avoided me, although I did get visits from time to time.

At night, I would hear the other patients screaming in terror as the demons fought them. This just resulted in the doctors injecting them with medication. At Weskoppies, you were constantly given medication, and you had no choice but to take it. Every few days, the staff would take blood tests to make sure that the patients had taken their pills. During the week I would be brought to the medical panel, which consisted of a professor and a few psychologists. They often had Psychiatry students present who observed these meetings, so I was part of their training.

The panel asked me whether I knew why I was at Weskoppies. I told them that I was having problems with demons. They then proceeded to ask me whether they ever talked to me, and I said yes. They then asked me whether I heard voices, and I again said yes, adding that I not only heard them, but I saw them too. They smirked condescendingly at me.

The Professor, the chief in charge of Weskoppies, didn’t believe in or understand the spiritual realm and as such, I was made fun of.

The panel informed me that I would be
attending quite a few such sessions as they tried to determine what was wrong
with me. Once, I asked them how long they planned on keeping me in there, and
one of them replied and told me that I would be there for many, many years.

They later diagnosed me as a Schizophrenic with 20 different personalities. Back in 1989, D.I.D was virtually unknown and very misunderstood, so they misdiagnosed me.

I met many young men in Weskoppies, a lot of broken people crying out for help, but unseen by the traditionalist and conservative nation of the time. I made quite a few enemies there, but because of my association with the dark side and through intimidation tactics, I could manipulate situations in such a way that I gained complete control.

I eventually got to know the crazy bald guy with the cut marks. I was walking down the hallway one day when I saw him. I kept on walking, and he saw me, saying to me; “Yah, yah, you’re that guy from the army!” I replied and said yes, I was. He then informed me that he’d been there for fifteen years already. But he laughed it off like it was nothing.

Strangely enough, I became friends with this man, and as I got to know him and saw that he was a real person under that peculiar façade, I no longer feared him.

I had a meeting with the medical board, where I decided to put spells on the young and arrogant psychiatrists there. I want to tell you that even if your faith in Jesus is very strong, you are not immune to an attack from the enemy. A Satanic curse is very strong, and being a child of our Heavenly Father doesn’t suddenly negate all influence from the dark side. A living relationship with Jesus Christ, and listening to the voice of the Holy Spirit, will warn you against such curses, you need to rebuke this in Jesus’ Mighty Name!!

It’s hard to imagine how I left Weskoppies but for a miracle, and that’s exactly what happened. My parents and their friends had been praying for me, and a few of them were fasting as well. My parents had refused to leave me in Weskoppies and had been communicating with the head psychiatrist until he decided to discharge me. He eventually signed the release form, and I was free to go.

I packed the few things I owned, and my parents took me to their house. Satan had another plan set in motion for me there…

Part 3 coming on the 18th of October 2019