The idea of macumba, witchcraft, and hidden powers has always accompanied the most fragile societies, especially in regions where poverty, lack of education, and superstition dominate daily life. In Africa, South America, and Asia, the same roles repeat themselves under different names — healers, shamans, pajés, ngangas, dukun, and many other local designations. The cultural mask changes, but the function is always the same: to trap populations in a constant fear of invisible forces.
The healer promises to cure diseases, ward off curses, bring wealth, or punish enemies. The shaman claims to communicate with spirits. The pajé conducts rituals to control nature. The nganga invokes ancestors. The dukun sells spells and quick fixes for every problem. But behind this diversity lies a simple logic: to turn ignorance into power and despair into profit.
These practices proliferate where the State fails, where there are no hospitals, schools, or effective justice. The healer emerges as a parallel authority, a guardian of the invisible whom everyone respects out of fear. Fear is the currency. And it is precisely in this void — in this vulnerability — that greater forces step in, exploiting not only popular faith but also psychologically manipulating entire communities.
What many believe to be “supernatural” is, in reality, a carefully staged theater designed to mentally imprison the poor and keep entire societies submissive to invisible terror.
Joaquim and Marta: The Search for the Healer
Joaquim and Marta lived in a provincial town, where life was reduced to the daily struggle for survival. Hearing stories passed from mouth to mouth, they believed there was a famous healer hidden in the bush, capable of transforming anyone’s fate. His reputation was both feared and respected: they said he cured incurable diseases, called down the rain, and made the poor wealthy—but everything came at a price.
Driven by ambition and desperation, they decided to look for him. The path was long and hostile. There were no roads for cars; only narrow dirt trails. They walked for miles under the scorching heat, crossed muddy streams, heard the roar of animals in the distance, and felt the tension of every step in the dense forest. The silence was broken only by the sound of their own footsteps and the buzzing of insects, as if the entire environment was watching them.
After hours of walking, they reached a clearing where a straw hut stood alone, surrounded by animal bones and symbols painted on tree trunks. There lived the healer, known as Nganga Muvumbi, an old, thin man with deep eyes that seemed to pierce the soul. Joaquim and Marta explained the reason for their visit: they wanted wealth, they wanted to escape misery, they wanted to live like the few powerful ones they knew.
The healer listened in silence, shaking his head, as if he already knew what they were going to ask. Then he spoke in a slow, grave voice: to achieve wealth was not only about wishing; it required giving something in return. The condition was clear and brutal: they had to take part in a ritual using a live python, sacrifice a chicken, and, above all, sell their own souls. The promise sounded both tempting and fatal — five years of abundant wealth, but in the end, the “devil” would come to collect.
Even with the warning, Joaquim and Marta accepted without hesitation. Ambition spoke louder than fear.
The Ritual
Night fell heavy over the clearing, as if the sky itself had closed its eyes. Joaquim and Marta stood before Nganga Muvumbi, who lit a bonfire in the center of the yard. The flames projected long shadows that danced on the trees like specters surrounding them. The smell of wet earth mixed with thick smoke, creating a heavy, suffocating air.
The healer began to chant deep tones in an ancient language, striking his staff against the ground. From inside the hut, he brought out a live python, coiled in a straw basket. He placed it beside the fire, and the serpent slid slowly, its thick body dragging across the sand, while the couple stepped back in fear. Nganga Muvumbi, however, approached it without hesitation and ran his hand over its scales as if caressing an ally.
Next, he produced a human skull, blackened by time, and placed it before Joaquim and Marta. He ordered them to kiss it as a sign of surrender. Hesitant but consumed by ambition, both pressed their lips against the cold bone, tasting the metallic flavor that seemed to come from death itself.
The ritual continued. The healer slit the throat of a black hen, letting the blood drip into a clay basin. He ordered Joaquim to bare his chest and Marta her belly. With that blood, he painted strange symbols on their skin while muttering incomprehensible words. Then he made them drink a sip of the hot, viscous liquid, declaring it was the “signature of the pact.” The couple swallowed, nausea rising, as if there was no turning back.
It was then that Muvumbi revealed what he had never told them before: the pact demanded more than they had imagined. He ordered them to strip completely and lie down on goat hides soaked in blood. There, under the gaze of the python and to the rhythm of drums, they had to unite sexually to seal the offering of their souls. The healer said the energy generated in that act would feed the spirits and finalize the exchange: fleeting pleasure in return for five years of abundance.
When silence returned, Muvumbi raised his arms to the sky and shouted that the pact was complete. The serpent was placed back into the basket, the blood spilled on the ground as an eternal mark, and the skull buried beneath the still-burning fire. The atmosphere was thick, almost unbearable, as if the air itself had been poisoned by something invisible.
Then the promise was spoken in definitive words: “Five years of wealth, five years of gold and plenty. But at the end of those five years, your souls will be harvested, and nothing will save you.”
Joaquim and Marta looked at each other in silence. Fear still lingered in their eyes, but greed had already won. The pact was sealed.
The Five Years of Wealth
The pact began to show its effects almost immediately. Joaquim and Marta, who had until then lived in poverty, saw their luck shift as if some invisible force had opened every door. First Joaquim won a small local lottery — enough money to buy land and move into a better house. Then, inexplicably, every business he touched turned to profit. The cattle multiplied, the crops flourished even during droughts, and strangers appeared with investment offers that seemed to fall from the sky.
Marta, in turn, was soon treated in the provincial town as a powerful woman. She wore dresses embroidered with golden threads, thick gold chains around her neck, and rings on every finger. She loved to flaunt herself at the markets, where other women stared at her with envy. Gold became her obsession: goblets, bracelets, even cutlery and glasses in the new house were plated in gold. The more she shone, the further she drifted from the simple life they had once known.
In time, the couple built a mansion deep in the bush, decorated with gleaming columns and metallic gates painted in golden tones. They hosted visitors, held feasts with music and an abundance of food, and were treated as examples of success. Joaquim bought expensive cars, each with chrome details that caught the sun like liquid fire. Marta ordered fine fabrics from far away and hired servants to maintain the house.
Their three children — Daniel, Samuel, and Elias — grew up in this world of excess. They had everything they wanted: expensive toys, new clothes, even a small swimming pool built in the mansion. The family dogs, Rex and Kito, guarded the estate and were treated like part of the family. Everything seemed perfect, as if the pact had been forgotten.
The people whispered: “They sold their souls.” But the couple smiled, pretending not to hear. The weight of the ritual faded into memory, as if it had been nothing but a strange night lost in time. They were too busy enjoying wealth, too captivated by the shine of gold.
Yet behind the abundance, one detail never left them: every time their eyes met, they remembered Nganga Muvumbi’s words. The deadline was set — five years. Still, greed smothered fear. They chose to live like royalty for that time, forgetting that every banquet, every laugh, and every new jewel was just one step closer to the final collection.
The Curse After Five Years
The fifth year arrived like a shadow that dragged itself slowly. At first, there were small signs: sleepless nights, strange premonitions, noises with no clear source. Then, everything began to fall apart.
The eldest son, Daniel, started hearing voices no one else could hear. They insulted him, mocked him, told him he was damned. At night, he heard heavy footsteps crossing the hallway, as if several people were walking around his room. But every time he got up to look, no one was there. The voices grew more grotesque: distorted sounds he believed were “demons” — not because he knew what they were, but because his own imagination tied them to what cinema and Hollywood had always portrayed as infernal.
Soon, he began seeing spectral figures, dead faces appearing in the dark corners of the house. Terror consumed him until, one morning, he was found hanging from a rope in his bedroom. The silence of his swaying body was the first blow of the pact.
Soon after, Samuel, the second son, while playing in the yard, was attacked by a black mamba that seemed to appear out of nowhere. The bite was swift, fatal, and even with the desperate rush to the hospital, the venom prevailed. The second son was lost.
Elias, the youngest, suddenly fell ill. High fevers, constant pain, and swelling spread through his body until his kidneys began to fail. Despite hospital visits and desperate attempts at treatment, the doctors confirmed the inevitable: renal failure. On a cold morning, Elias’s body gave out, and the last son was gone — taking with him any hope of redemption.
The couple was in shock: they had never offered their children’s souls in the ritual. They had believed the pact would only claim them, never their bloodline. But the price extracted was greater than they had imagined — the children became the first coins of payment.
Meanwhile, the dogs, Rex and Kito, went mad every night. They barked without pause, as if something invisible prowled around the mansion. In the mornings, lion tracks appeared at the gates, but there was never a trace of the beast itself. The couple heard distant roars, animal voices, and human screams echoing in the dark. Until, one by one, the dogs died suddenly, as if their hearts had burst.
Joaquim and Marta were left alone in the silence of the golden house. But the silence was only an illusion: they themselves began hearing voices inside the walls, seeing shadows slide through the corridors, feeling presences that laughed and watched them. Shapes traced themselves across the walls as if the cement itself were alive. Fear consumed them.
Joaquim lost his sanity. He wandered the streets shouting that he and Marta had made a pact with Nganga Muvumbi and that the deadline had come. Few believed him; some laughed, others moved away in silence. He ended up confined to a psychiatric hospital after being found naked, convinced that demons were pursuing him. But even there, the torment did not cease. One night he managed to escape, ran through the city like a madman, and climbed a telecommunications tower. He screamed that he was condemned and threw himself from the top. His body lay stretched out on the ground as the crowd watched in shock, never forgetting that scene.
Marta, alone in the golden mansion, withered away. The voices never let her sleep, the whispers of “demons” followed her every step. She moved quickly, always on edge, as if being hunted. Until one night, while going down the stairs in high heels, she stumbled and fell. The fall was fatal. She lay motionless on the cold floor of the house, eyes wide open, as if still listening to the voices that had tormented her.
The pact had been fulfilled. The five years of gold had ended, and the debt was collected brutally and without mercy. Nganga Muvumbi’s promise had come true — but in a way far crueler than the couple had ever imagined.
The Revelation of the Truth
The tragedy of Joaquim, Marta, their children, and even the dogs was not the result of macumba, spirits, or curses. What seemed supernatural was, in reality, the use of invisible technologies operated by intelligence organizations, strategically deployed to create a theater of terror. And these are not isolated cases: States are well aware of these methods, because they are part of a global system of control, applied in different regions of the world according to the interests of power.
The voices Daniel heard — of people, of the dead, or of “demons” — were the direct result of V2K (Voice to Skull) technology, capable of projecting sounds and speech into the mind, imitating human tones, animal cries, or grotesque whispers. The victim’s mind believes it is going insane or being haunted, when in fact it is being manipulated by targeted frequencies.
The visions of shadows, spectral figures, and the constant feeling of being hunted are effects of RNM (Remote Neural Monitoring), which makes it possible to map and interfere with brain processes, inducing hallucinations, fears, and suicidal impulses. The brain reacts as if it were real, even when nothing is there.
The sudden illnesses, like Elias’s kidney failure, and the pains that consumed their bodies are classic symptoms of prolonged exposure to Directed Energy Weapons (DEW) and Radio Frequency (RF) weapons. These technologies weaken the body, alter the immune system, and cause organ collapse without leaving clear evidence. Beyond that, they can induce any disease the intelligence operator chooses — from chronic conditions to sudden heart failure — shaping the victim’s fate as if it were a curse.
And they do not affect humans alone. These technologies can also manipulate animals, drawing them in or driving them away depending on the goal. Bees, flies, snakes, cats, owls, bats, and many others can be guided like pieces on an invisible chessboard, used to frighten or attack. Any animal nearby can be directed to the operator’s chosen location, as if obeying a silent command. That was how Samuel was attacked by a black mamba: the reptile was guided into the mansion’s yard as part of the staging — and for those who control the system, such things are nothing but “games.”
All of this is orchestrated in collusion with local figures — healers, shamans, pajés, ngangas, dukun. But here lies the most perverse detail: even these healers do not know they are serving as a technological front. They believe they invoke spirits, speak with ancestors, or manipulate mystical forces. In truth, they are being used as instruments, feeding superstition while the real forces operate unseen.
The result is total control: communities believe they live surrounded by curses and entities, when in fact it is all a mechanism of psychological and electronic engineering. Fear is manufactured, maintained, and recycled to guarantee submission. I recommend reading the article where I explain in detail the technologies V2K and RNM (Link).
The Objective of Control
The use of these technologies is not random. The calculated effect is the creation of local myths and legends, fabricated on top of people’s fear. When someone goes insane, falls ill, or dies under strange circumstances, the narrative quickly appears: it was witchcraft, it was spirits. That explanation is accepted because it is already rooted in culture.
Fear becomes an instrument of domination. People believe they are surrounded by supernatural forces against which they can do nothing. They stop questioning, stop searching for answers, stop confronting the system. They are paralyzed.
Populations are kept like cattle trapped in superstition, shaped by horror stories repeated from generation to generation. What should be seen as technological engineering is told as “macumba.” What should be recognized as electronic manipulation is lived as a “curse.” Ignorance guarantees total submission.
Conclusion
Macumba does not exist. What exists is an invisible arsenal of psychological and electronic weapons, operated by intelligence organizations on a global scale.
The real spell is technological, military, and psychological. Magic is only the curtain; engineering is the reality. Everything works through frequencies — sounds, signals, and waves that cannot be seen or heard, but that manipulate minds, bodies, and even animals.
Healers, shamans, and the like function as indirect agents of global control, without even knowing it. They serve as the façade for an invisible system that feeds fear and perpetuates mental slavery.
August 2025
This article is in English. Read the Portuguese version ⇒ Ler em português