MY MOTHER WAS UNALIVED BY PEOPLE USING THE TRICK OF A CRYING TOKOLOSHI AT NIGHT

MY MOTHER WAS UNALIVED BY PEOPLE USING THE TRICK OF A CRYING TOKOLOSHI AT NIGHT

When My Mother Answered a Cry in the Night

A mother’s love cost us our mother.

A few months ago, my father passed away. He was a police officer, a man who dedicated his life to protecting others. We buried him with dignity, surrounded by family. But what we didn’t know then was that with his death, the protection he gave our family was gone too.

My father was our protector, our safe haven. He was the only man in the house, and my little brother was only three years old. After he died, the house suddenly felt different. Vulnerable.

There had always been silent tension between my father’s family and my mother’s family. My father’s relatives believed my mother was responsible for his death, even though he died in a car accident far from home.

On the day of my father’s funeral, his entire family left that very same day. They didn’t stay to make sure we were okay. They packed their bags and disappeared from our lives just like that.

My mother’s family stayed behind with us for a while. But as the weeks passed, they slowly returned to their homes. By the third week after the funeral, everyone had left except my grandmother—my mother’s mother.

Then one night, everything changed.

At around 2 a.m., we were woken up by the heartbreaking cry of a toddler outside our house. The cry was so painful and desperate that it was impossible to ignore. It sounded like a child in terrible distress.

It broke our hearts.

We all woke up and met in the passage, trying to figure out what was happening. I even recorded the sound on my phone because I wanted to send it to my best friend. It honestly sounded like someone was hurting a child in our yard.

My mother called the police while we stood together in fear.

She was clearly scared and in shock, but she told us to stay inside the house and lock the door once she stepped outside. She said she needed to check if there really was a child out there who needed help.

Before leaving the house, she reported everything to the police. They told her they would come, but anyone who has lived in rural areas of South Africa knows how slow the response can be. They said they were still waiting for their state vehicle to return.

The crying outside was getting more desperate.

My mother couldn’t stand it anymore.

She stepped outside to help the crying child.

We followed her instructions. The moment she left, we locked the door but stayed right behind it so we could open quickly if she needed to run back inside.

Only a few seconds passed.

Then we heard her scream.

“Yoh… baloyi!”

And suddenly, the baby stopped crying.

Everything went silent.

An hour later, the police finally arrived while we were still hiding inside the house, crying and terrified because our mother hadn’t come back.

When we saw the blue lights outside, we rushed to unlock the door. I ran toward the gate to let the police in.

But before I even reached the gate, I saw my mother lying in the driveway.

She was in a pool of blood.

My body froze. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing or how it had happened.

The police had to jump the fence because I was too shocked to open the gate.

They secured the crime scene, and after a few minutes they confirmed what we already feared.

My mother was gone.

Parts of her body had been taken.

Later, the police told us that this was the fifth case reported in the province. They believed it was the work of a criminal syndicate—people who murder innocent victims and remove body parts for ritual practices meant to bring wealth.

Since that night, my life has never been the same.

My mother died because she had a good heart. Because she couldn’t ignore the cry of a child who needed help.

She died being exactly who she was: a mother.

Do not attend to the baby cries in your yards at night, it’s not a new trick. It’s been happening for sometime now. It’s not safe out there at night.