A
BRAZILIAN WOMAN SNATCHED FROM THE DEPTHS OF WITCHCRAFT BY THE LORD JESUS
PART
1
My name is Vilma
Laudelino de Souza. I was born in the city of Rio de Janeiro, one of
the most beautiful cities in the world, known as the capital of
carnival. In my country, everyone practices or seeks some form of
spirituality. This has been happening since the time of colonization,
when slaves were taken from Africa, along with their cults and tribal
gods. My grandmother, daughter of Angola, and the mother of my father is one of the descendants of
slaves. My mother is of European origin.
Nowadays, there is a
strong craze for the occult through literature, TV series, and films
in which very subtle or overt forms of occultism are displayed.
For several years, I
lived in the reality of what this meant. I share my testimony with
you so that you will know the unique power of the one being who
truly loves us, JESUS CHRIST.
The indoctrination
that I underwent, during 22 years of a life devoted to the spirits,
to the sects that characterize my country, Brazil, Umbanda,
Candomblé. Then I reached the top in the sect of Quimbanda, that is
to say, an offshoot black magic. At some point in these practices, I
had an experience that showed me that something was wrong. At best I
can say I did not seek, but I was sought by God, JESUS CHRIST.
From the moment of
my birth, my grandmother, a witch, consecrated me to spirits who
lived in her body, since she knew that the time of her death was
approaching. As soon as I arrived on Earth, I was dedicated to Satan.
September 30, 1969
It was 11,30 pm when I finished writing this last letter to the people I valued the
most. It would be my last night. In the morning I had planned to jump
on a railroad track when a train was passing. So as not to escape
it, I set the wake-up time on the clock, but I was too depressed
to fall asleep. I stayed all night cloistered in the room. I needed
to do a retrospective of my life.
I was 22 yet I felt
like an old woman. I had no future and I had no reason to hope. I had
gone through so many difficult and bitter experiences. When I was 15
I had already attempted suicide by taking pills. A few years later, I
cut my wrists, yet death still eluded me. Maybe I was too bad for
even death to want me. This time I had put all the chances on my side
to die.
What good is life
for me?! Isn't man born only to die? Doesn't he come back to
Earth through reincarnation in other forms? I wanted to die and not
to come back at all. I no longer wanted to suffer or cause pain.
Life, existence, all for me was pain and emptiness
Very early in life,
I had known evil. I was born into a family where parents had
difficulty feeding their 6 children. Affection? No one had that time.
My older sister took
care of us as best she could while my mother worked. She washed, week
after week, the clothes of several large families. We lived in a
wealthy neighborhood in the city of Rio, but in a proletarian park
(the domestic workers corner).
Social, racial and
cultural inequalities caused conflicts between us, and other
children, the vast majority of whom were children of influential
families in society. I studied catechism, where I learned the notion
of God. This God was very far from my daily reality. They just told
me that God punished the wicked and He rewarded the good. This
simplistic definition did not satisfy even my childish mind, for if
God rewarded the good, I did not understand why my comrades had
smooth hair, fair skin, lived in luxurious houses and were loved by
their parents. These people made donations and alms in the
neighborhoods. We on the other hand had no money to participate in
anything.
For me and in
relation to what I learned in the catechism, the privileges of others
were the result of their kindness and their generosity towards the
community. Very quickly, I concluded that the lack of divine help was
the result of my wickedness. This led me to no longer want to have a
connection with God. He didn't matter with my life, I didn't want to
deal with Him. In a last-ditch effort to understand, I asked my
father about God.
Very angry, he
replied, "The money we have in our pocket, that is god!"
My father was an
atheist, but I was hoping for an answer that would neutralize my
thinking about God. This statement made me realize that God does not
exist. If He existed, then He wanted nothing to do with me, a poor
black child.
Over time I became a
lonely and bitter person. Life accentuated social inequalities. My
father found himself unemployed and I experienced famine. I went to
the streets and begged. My family
suffered from some illnesses which forced us to isolate ourselves. It
made my disgust worse.
Bitterness was
taking shape inside me. I wanted to understand why we were the target
of so much disgrace. In addition, night terrors and nightmares
dominated me every night. I heard noises, footsteps, the voices of
dead people flying past me.
When I was lying
down I could feel people pulling my hair, the blankets pulling
themselves off over me. My body levitated then was thrown to the
ground in the middle of the night, my bed rocked violently. A man,
more like a shadow whose face I couldn't see, came to my room every
night. I was scared, very scared. But by dint of seeing him, one day
I had the courage to ask him who he was. He answered me with a man's
voice, that he was the Devil. I fainted.
I told each of these
facts to my mom, who listened to me in fright with her eyes wide
open. Yet I had the impression that she didn't really believe me. I
was only 4 years old when my mother was taken to the emergency room
one night because of her illness. To console me my sister told me
that my mother would be back soon. I believed it, so I waited, awake,
my eyes fixed on the front door, waiting for mom to come back.
Suddenly the door opened, mom entered.
“Mom, mom, I'm
glad you came home.”
Approaching her to
kiss her I touched a cold body, I immediately cried, “Mom, you're
not mom!”
This creature leaned
towards me and invaded my rigid body. I passed out.
The next day I woke
up with a strange feeling. When I asked my sister where mom was, she
lied to me again. I walked to the veranda, there was a black dog.
Suddenly the dog said to me, "Your mom is in the hospital!”
I ran to my sister and asked her if mom was still in the hospital. Puzzled, she answers,
"How do you know?"
A little confused, I
replied that it was the dog who revealed it to me. She was amazed,
she didn't believe me. Yet a lot of things happened when no one was
looking at me. Sometimes when I played with my dolls they would dance
and laugh.
I swung them away
from me screaming. All these events marked me a lot, and for me, it
was the beginning of my difficult career. My mother was in the
hospital for several days because of bleeding from a miscarriage.
After her recovery, she took me to a "Blesser" who asked
that I be taken to a brotherhood of wizards because she had detected
in me a cradle medium.
My mother confirmed
it. I was born just after a tornado. My grandmother interpreted this
as a sign of succession from the entities. I had been designated at
my birth to succeed my grandmother. My grandmother then lifted me up
and consecrated me to the orishas (spirits) the day I was born.
Between the ages of
9 and 10, paranormal phenomena were occurring in school. I was
quietly studying, a spirit entered me, which is not normal. A
practitioner of Umbanda knows that normally he cannot receive a
scientific spirit, but to me, it happened. A spirit other than those
which we could receive at this level entered me and I psychographed
(automatic writing). I had no consciousness, I was not in control, my
fingers moving and writing alone.
Once the teacher overheard one of
these scenes, she tore off the notebook. I was desperate, I wanted to
tell her in case she read, "It was not me who wrote! It is not
me!"
But it was my
notebook and my handwriting and there was a drawing. The figure of a man
and a signature below. The figure was that of Satan. They took me to
church, to do an exorcism on me. Things got much worse. There, they
spoke to me again about God, about a God who only loves good people.
Even though I was a
child under 10 years old, I already had significant experience in the
occult. While they were talking in the church, I was doing a portrait
of my life. I am the 4th child in a family of 6. From a mother of
European origin and a black father descended from slaves. I am the
only child in the family to have inherited all of his African
characteristics. No one believed that I was my mother's daughter. I
suffered due to the color of my skin, the shock of races. Sometimes
people would ask me if I was the right one. My brothers and sisters
jokingly told me, “We found you outside the door, you're not really
from the family.”
It created in me a
feeling of smallness, of rejection. I felt out of step. I was made to
feel so bad that I took a turn for the worse, and I ended up
believing that I was worse. I wondered why I was different. In church, they said that God created everyone equally. No, I was different.
Almost no one wanted me. I was surrounded by white people in the
neighborhood and at home, I was rejected.
As soon as I was 7,
my mother took me to initiation rites. We hoped that this would
weaken the strength of the entities that dominated my body and put an
end to the nightmares and supernatural manifestations that disturbed
me. After that, I spent years on pilgrimages to spiritualist sects in
Rio.
I remember one
night when I was given the white clothes. I was confirmed as my
grandmother's successor. People were dancing and singing in the midst
of sacrifices. They told me that I was predestinated to be a
priestess.
I started my
internship with them by participating assiduously in the "works" of
orders.
I started out in
Umbanda, a Brazilian branch of spiritualism. We contact the spirits
of the forest, the sea, the air, etc. All of these entities started to rule over my body.
For a while, my
learning greatly reduced the activity of these forces on me. However,
as time passed, everything came back with more intensity. Sometimes I
was torn from my own body to be taken to cemeteries in the middle of
the night. I walked between the graves, followed by black shadows
with the eyes of embers.
At the age of 13, I
was sent to a second sect which predominates in Brazil, the
Candomblé. Candomblé is known the world over. These are psychic
realms, the power of the mind, even with messages from extraterrestrial
beings. We work with character control, personality control, intimate
control, affective control, political control, financial control.
When I got there, I
found a huge temple there. When the priest saw me, he took a napkin
and curtsied. I lost consciousness. When I came to my senses, a whole
night had passed. My mother looked at me in admiration, she asked me
if I had felt anything, I said no. Then she said to me, "My
daughter, a Prince has entered your body! He drank two liters of
brandy, he smoked several cigars.”
I was only 13 years
old.
My mother was a
spiritualist, as was my grandmother. Even though like I said, my
father didn't believe in anything, he was an atheist.
With the candomblé,
other entities took possession of my body. No one is born a wizard,
we all have a trajectory. But in addition, when we have been offered
to the spirits before birth, these spirits gradually come to seek
their due. In my case, they scared me into doing my witch education.
So my mom and I thought that if I was given back to whom I belonged
to, things would work out. I believed that they were going to become
docile with me and that I would work with them for justice. But when
I was initiated into the candomblé, I began to encounter moral
problems. I hung out with people of the worst kind, bandits, etc.
I started to revolt,
I wanted to attack society, fake white magic, everyone. Something
made me think that with all the powers in my body, I could destroy
whoever I wanted. Which led me to do what I did. I think deep down I
was looking for answers.
I was persecuted by
spirits to the point where I was discouraged as night approached. I
told myself that in a few moments, everything would start again. A
few times I tried to call for help, but no voice came out. I saw
people like my brothers trying to hold me up, but an incredible force
held me in bed.
I wished so much
that they would touch me and that they would not let me sleep, since
sleep led me to have gruesome experiences.
I could see myself
in a coffin, covered in worms or stung by millions of ants. I could
see myself falling into an endless abyss or traveling on a train
where I was the only passenger. I could still see myself fighting an
all-black man, who was trying to kill me. Powerless, without
strength, I could only bite him, so the pieces of his body grew in my
mouth without my being able to spit them out.
For years and years,
spirits struggled for control of my personality. Yet I resisted,
deep down, I was only looking for peace, true and lasting.
Spirits urged me to
become evil. I have known pleasures that led me to vice and lust.
I entered into an accelerated process of moral degradation. I was a
rebel, I was the girlfriend of a big gangster. My bad reputation was
so notorious that my parents cursed the day I was born. My brothers
were begging me not to say that we were from the same family. All
this accentuated my rebellion.
At the age of 21, I
married someone perverted like me. The marriage lasted 5 months. I
was pregnant, I gave this child to Yemanja, (goddess of water) who
had told me that she would be my protector. At that time the
candomblé was no longer enough for me.
My life was
threatened on both sides by people because of the life I was leading
and what I was doing to people. So I needed more protection. And as
usual, I came across people who told me, "Over there in such and
such a place, such and such a person is the only solution for you."
I went there,
willing to find this solution and truly believing I would find it. I,
who was a priestess and who had been consulted by important people in
this country, I needed help.
