Testimonials

The room was large and spacious, featuring wooden structures and a high wooden ceiling that evoked imagery of the Victorian era, reminiscent of the plantations of the southern United States during slavery. It had an en-suite bathroom, a large bed in the center with fresh white sheets, a bucket on the side, and a basket full of toilet paper. After changing into my white linen dress, we began the ceremony. At the altar, the shaman smudged me, and we set an intention. My intention was to free myself from the need to hide my brilliance and to fully embrace my leadership abilities, without second-guessing or feeling the need to apologize. That's when I honored my ancestors and guides, as well as myself, the most high, and I drank the concoction. Now, I don't even know how I managed this, but as I began to enter the experience, I heard buzzing. It was my phone. My son had made contact because the power was out in Ghana, and the caretaker's phone wasn’t charged, leaving him unable to communicate with the landlord, who was on a whole other continent. I was in a state between this world and the next, yet I had to text. I informed him of my condition. He asked for my son's number. I reluctantly gave it to him, knowing it was the best option so he could speak with the caretaker, who was outside the property but could communicate through the windows on loudspeaker. The last thing I remember was messaging my son, updating him, and at that point, I had left my body, so I don’t know HOW I was typing anything. I closed the message with, “All is well, everything will be fixed, and the ancestors are with you. Love you!” I put my phone on silent and tossed it away. And just like that, I entered the first realm. It was a beautiful dimension, full of patterns and ancient coding, all in the atmosphere. That’s when I saw her; I knew it was another version of me. She had short hair, a tall, thin waist, big breasts, and a full backside. She was a goddess. Her hands were constantly close to my face, waving a finger in a "no, no, no" gesture. She would come from different angles and spectrums, always with that movement. At first, it seemed that she was gesturing "No. No. No," but in actuality, she was shooing away any debris to clear the path for me before entering stage two. Just then, a male figure appeared quickly but tried to hide, mimicking the goddess's shooing. However, his gesture was more of a finger-pointing action, as he constantly attempted to conceal himself in the shadows. Next, I physically got up and headed to the bathroom. I was on my period, too. I sat on the toilet and immediately began experiencing diarrhea. After cleaning up, I put on my pad and panties and returned to my bed, although instinctively, I felt the bathroom was more receptive to my energy. I was right, because as soon as I returned to the room, my stomach churned, and it burned as if I were in labor, in pain from something that needed to be pushed out and released. It felt instinctive! So, I spun back to the bathroom, trying to keep my underwear and pad in order. It was so uncomfortable. That's when a voice whispered, "Don’t you realize that you’re in ceremony? Remove that!" So I ripped them off from my ankles, widened my legs, and purged and purged. It just flowed out of me. That's when I entered the gutter, the basement, the land of the forgotten, the insidious, the covert—the place nobody speaks about. Visually, it appeared as around five extremely dirty bathrooms. These bathrooms were filthy, dull, and grimy—like those you might find in a drug den or an abandoned fuel station. Each bathroom held a darkness that needed to be confronted. Each bathroom had a story to tell—one that was very painful. They were stacked on top of one another, forming a circle, each in its own dimension yet so close together. That's when Mister "Hiding in the Shadows" emerged again. I could sense his disdain toward me; it was obvious that he felt threatened by my presence. I gave him the space and opportunity to be acknowledged, inviting him to reveal himself. Just then, a little boy around nine years of age appeared, lying on his side in a drawer. He was curled up in a fetal position, his trousers and underwear pulled down past his knees, revealing himself in a very suggestive manner. This boy was deeply sacred, evidently traumatized, yet trained to be someone’s sex slave. I tried to summon him out of the drawer, but he wouldn’t move from that position. I spoke gently at first, then more confidently, trying to earn his trust. But he remained unresponsive. He couldn’t move. That's when I began to sing. It was a beautiful, angelic frequency—so soothing and maternal. As I sang, he began to relax. The more I sang about freedom and revelations, the more he softened. Still, he hesitated to come out completely, fearing the same rejection he had faced when he confided in the matriarch about what was being done to him in the dark. I continued to sing, and with each expression of my feelings, changes began to unfold. Each bathroom transformed into a magical, vibrant garden filled with rainbows, butterflies, fairies, and other magical beings. I could feel the presence of ancestors, and the Goddess Frida Kahlo appeared, assisting me with the transition, as these were heavy transits. After that initial transformation, it suddenly hit me—this is what they’re doing to the children. I was nearly breathless as the realization struck me, hitting me like a ton of bricks. I blurted out, “So this is what they’re doing to the children? This is what they’re doing to the little boys?” That realization ignited my anger. I was furious. Images began flooding my mind, and the little boy started to spill everything. I was overwhelmed by clear visuals of large houses and prominent men abusing little boys. These were children—none older than nine, eleven at most! All of this was happening while I was still purging. Blood and fluids were pouring from me, and I empathically experienced the physical and emotional symptoms these precious victims were experiencing. It wasn't a pretty thing. Blood and excrement pouring out of me as I remained sat on the toilet. I can feel the sweat trickling down my back, the fabric of my dress clinging to me like a second skin. My thigh-length locs, pulled into a single ponytail, have become heavy, resting on my shoulders while I hold them up with one hand. I catch a glimpse of my own eyes, glistening and salty, through the dim reflection on the white bathroom tiles. The toilet bowl is nearly overflowing, reminding me that I’ll need to flush again soon. There’s so much happening, yet amidst the chaos, a new energy is gathering clarity, even as my body feels weighed down. It’s as if I'm poised on the brink of a journey that spans several lifetimes, having traversed uncharted territories barefoot. As I stand here, I can sense the rhythm of my existence resonating in languages I don’t even recognize, but the main chant echoes loudly in my mind: "EVERYTHING must reveal!" It's a powerful call to action. I feel myself slipping between the embrace of masculine and divine feminine energies, and the theme becomes clear—life is highlighting the roots of toxic masculinity and the secrets woven deeply into the fabric of society. These men, once shadows of themselves, are crying out in their own brutal ways. Yes, their actions are unforgivable, but ignoring their struggles only pushes them deeper into darkness. What lies beneath the surface begs to be uncovered. One man stands out vividly in my mind—he sports thick "Tom Ford" black-rimmed glasses and a bald head, his quiet demeanor cloaking a turbulent soul. Dressed in a conservative navy blue long jacket, he carries a briefcase, but I can almost see the secrets swirling around him. I see that once he returns home, a darkness unfolds. He is drawn to a hidden chamber in his family house, a place where he harbors an innocent child, kept in an oppressive silence. The weight of this man's reality is almost surreal, as he unknowingly masquerades around a home harboring such sinister truths, all while his family remains blissfully unaware. I can feel the urgency ramping up around me—ancestors' voices rising in a powerful chorus. "No hair shall be left on your heads if you don't reveal it all today. Everything must REVEAL!" They insist, a palpable determination in their energy. With each passing moment, more souls seem to emerge from the shadows, ready to unveil their painful truths, and I know I need to draw the line. I realize that, until now, I have been unknowingly carrying the burdens of both known and unknown souls. Their energy has attached itself to my empathetic nature, and now, as I stand on the cusp of transformation, I understand it’s time to release them. As I set boundaries and lovingly release these burdens, I affirm my own strength—my path is clear. "I weave a new cloth of protection, health, and wealth after breaking this cycle. My bloodline is free; we embrace abundance and joy." With each powerful affirmation, I wrap my ponytail higher and higher, feeling the burdens fade away as my hairstyle transforms into a light, airy cone shape. For the first time, there’s no weight on my head with this hairstyle, a direct reflection of the spiritual metamorphosis taking place within me. Just then, the focus shifts, and a new energy envelops me. "Now that we’ve addressed everything else, it’s time to look at YOU," a voice says, cutting through the haze with a precise tone that lingers in the air. "Why do you shy away from embracing your power as a Madam? You insist on mingling with those less than you, the unequally yolked, the users and abusers, all in the name of" Saving my people" Well, no more, they screamed. Some of these people are only poor and needy when they see you coming. You must accept yourself! The moment I accepted my role in life as the disrupter of corruption and the catalyst for awakening to the true Christ consciousness within, I was immediately transported to a raw and energetic part of myself. "YESSSS Heaven, you've arrived. You know yourself now. You remember who you are!" I exclaimed sassily. "You are THAT BITCH! The true definition of the 'IT GIRL.' You're IT!... Yeah, I know that's right! You've arrived, MADAM JOSEPHINE! The one and only. If they hated you before, boy, do we feel sorry for them now because, baby, YOU HAVE ARRIVED!" A part of me felt shame for speaking so grandiosely about myself, but I immediately rebuked that imposter. I flicked my imaginary hair, since obviously my hair was all wrapped up, and I continued to look at myself in the tiles. I created a ritual by gathering my hands from the ground to my crown, proclaiming, "We create our own reality!" and then turned my arms forward, declaring, "And I always continue forward." No matter what, we ALWAYS continue forward. Forward doesn't always mean moving in a straight line; it can go up, down, sideways—it can be messy even. But through it all, we must continue forward. Just as my heart rate began to slow to a steady rhythm, I could feel myself returning to this earthly realm. The water started flowing again. Oh, I forgot to mention that whenever the power goes out here in Ghana, the water pressure is nonexistent. This was so symbolic of what was happening now: no more stagnant energy, just pure flow! I was immediately drawn to the window, and my guides—three magpies—were flying in a circle, akin to a dance of completion. They were so calm and peaceful, as if a new world had begun and nothing from the past remained. I laughed hysterically, like a little child. That's when I jumped in the shower and washed off, the whole time speaking to myself in a very childlike manner. Throughout this experience, the shaman Auntie Akua knew exactly when to assist me with soothing forest frequencies, a shaker, and her presence. Although she was on the other side of the wall, she was VERY present. She intuitively knew when I needed guidance through the uncertainty and when I didn't need hand-holding. I couldn’t imagine experiencing all of these dimensions and timelines without her excellent support as a mother, sister, observer, and cheerleader all in one! At the end of my journey, the children were all free and laughing. They were no longer hiding, and no longer had their pants and underwear pulled down. No! They were outspoken, mischievous, confident, courageous, and vibrant. They knew how to speak up for themselves, and I was amongst them. I accepted my position as Madam. I AM a madam. I am a leader, and my shine is extremely bright, unapologetically. I set the tone of being boundaried yet still free-spirited and kind. As I left the bathroom, wrapping the towel Auntie Akua had kindly left hanging on the door for me, I was welcomed by the children's voices. At first, I was unsure if I was hearing them in this realm or even in the house, but they were so loud, present, and bold that I followed the voices and discovered two beautiful children, around five years old—one boy and one girl. They stopped jumping around when they saw me. I jovially said, "Play around, yes! Make basa basa! You're children; you should be seen and heard. Don't stop because of me!" I began to compliment the little boy, who was about four, and the little girl gave me a look that demanded her affirmations of praise. "Oh, don't worry, Ohenema, I am coming to you next," I said playfully as her parents giggled in gratitude for the precious moment we were all sharing together. I advised her to always listen to her body and how she felt, explaining that our heads can deceive us to keep us safe and our hearts can lie because of love, but our bodies would never deceive us. "If you feel relaxed, you're in a safe environment. If you feel nervous or too excited, be aware." She nodded, as if an ancient part of her understood something that had been stored for the future and would come in handy at the right moment. It was such a revelation to know that children were asleep in the temple throughout my entire experience and woke up once I broke through the walls of fear. I couldn't have asked for better confirmation that the work was done. One masculine, one feminine? Wow! Serendipitous or WHAT! After they left, Auntie Akua and I had a consultation with fruit, during which I shared my experience with her. I was given homework to ensure that I utilized this medicine for a long time, not just as a fleeting moment. It’s 1:44 AM as I have completed this powerful testimony. 144. I am chosen because I CHOSE MYSELF! ASHE ASHE ASHE ASHE!