When my mom died, my elder sister and I used to visit the mortuary before her burial. In our place, families are usually given specific visiting days to check if the body is being properly taken care of and to tip the attendants.
One Wednesday, one of my aunties told me something strange.
She said I should speak to my mom and hold her big toe while talking to her.
I was terrified.
There was no way I could bring myself to touch her body, so I just stood beside her and spoke from a distance instead. The mortuary attendants were sitting nearby drinking alcohol, completely unbothered by everything happening around them. One of them even offered us schnapps to pour while talking to my mom.
I refused immediately. I was already scared enough.
At first, I tried to stay strong while speaking to her. I wasn’t crying. I even told her to go and fight whoever was responsible for her death because she suffered so much before she passed away.
But before I could finish talking, I suddenly broke down in tears.
And that was when something happened that I still can’t fully explain.
The same attendants who had been laughing and drinking moments earlier suddenly became serious. They quickly told me to stop crying, saying:
“Tears and spirits don’t go together.”
One of them even said my mom had been standing there listening while I spoke, but the moment I started crying, she moved away immediately.
That statement stayed with me.
Then something even stranger happened during our second visit.
Someone had privately advised me to take a native egg to the mortuary and break it at the entrance, saying it would “open doors” for us spiritually.
I didn’t tell anyone about it.
The first egg broke before we even got there.
We bought another one.
That one broke too.
At that point, it started feeling unsettling, but we still decided to try one last time. We bought a third egg and guarded it carefully until we finally reached the mortuary. This time, it survived. We quietly broke it at the entrance exactly as instructed.
Nobody saw us do it.
Or at least, that’s what we believed.
Later, one of the mortuary attendants walked up to us and warned us never to try “that thing” there again.
What shocked me was that nobody had told them anything.
Nobody.
Till today, I still don’t know how they found out.
That whole experience changed the way I see certain things in life. So when people say every strange story is fake or impossible, I usually just keep quiet.
Because some experiences are difficult to explain unless you were the one who lived through them.
