The contention is over the fact that Betty simply sought the Christian faith and turned her life around, this pushed a blogger to criticise her actions with the below open letter: (No time to translate now, but bref – it called betty a confused Christian, that her life is the consequence of her choices and not that of God, and finally she should stop confusing religion Vs spirituality.

« Confondre religion et spiritualité sont les erreurs de beaucoup. La religion est un chemin qui aide celui qui recherche dieu grâce à la spiritualité qui la voir par laquelle nous devons passer. Excuses ton cœur et ne rejettes pas la faute sur le divin. Vous êtes une génération qui ne voyez que la surface, obnubilé par la surface et malheureusement tu es comme beaucoup de jeunes filles de certaines de cette génération vous donnez votre cœur et votre corps à ceux qui ne vous respectent pas et au final vous rejetez la faute sur les hommes. Un bon cœur sonde ses actes et non Dieu pour ses fautes. L’épreuve que tu vis est la conséquence de tes choix et non d’un sort du divin. Retire-toi un moment et apprends sur la spiritualité et non la religion. Les livres ne sont qu’un ensemble de dogmes mais se nourrir spirituellement est une voie silencieuse… Tu as été emportée par l’émotion mais aujourd’hui laisse la réflexion être maître de tes émotions et non le contraire. »


Betty explains life before christ was a misery and even insinuates that that is one of the reasons why she had a child out of wedlock. Blogs have found her new found love for the scripture confusing and misrepresented.

What are your thoughts on this _ as for the hands typing this now ”judge not so thou shalt not be judged’ Betty enjoy life in Christ its a thing of joy hearing you confess and accept christ.






A woman walks the darkest village footpaths heading to the heart of the market Square – going to see mamalawoh as a Christian was not what she ever imagined herself indulging in or ever wanted. She was a staunch Christian and didn’t want anyone in her congregation to know that she went to any other consultations for her predicament. The powers of darkness had nothing to do with a child of God, daughter of Zion and a renowned CWA Christian – but her child was sick- very very sick… she needed an option because science, medicine and prayers had not yielded so far and the condition had visibly deteriorated.

It had taken her 6 years to finally bear a child in her late forties, after pleading with anything that had ears to hid to her plea… She was desperate – she slept at the alter in a pool of her tears and caressed the pews in a pitiful sight that even the most Piet of people would feel desperate for an instant miracle. No matter her effort to go unnoticed in the church for lingering hours after the service was over a few keen members remember her and will tell you the most devout Christian was this lady with a heart of pure cotton wool and hands that could sooth any misery in the church except her own… Which she wore the bravest face against.

Her answers to questions about the condition by other brethren’s was –
“the good lord in his own time will make everything beautiful again” or
“we are well and getting better by his grace” or the shortest one on days when her faith was tested to the brink – “his grace is sufficient”– there was never a time when she showed weakness in the face of her troubles – never until this day that took her legs to this path, shamelessly turning her back to God and her face from the light – her mind was made she was heading deeper and deeper into the abyss – the abyss of the mamalowoh for answers.

She delved deeper in the mat tents and palm fonts of the market sheds, dissapearing deeper into the darkness – the smell of rubbish at the back of the butchers abattoir – the stench of animal blood the number of cows which had been slaughtered and killed for their skin and their meat… hung thick in the air like a sacrifice of life reminding the earth of its own destruction.

This time of the night gave way for the earth to soaked the blood at the slaughter house, to cool and emit hot vaporised blood scented air that covered the market like a tainted invisible blanket at night time… She walked_ overhearing whispers of the men who hid in the corners of dark sheds planning their activities for the night… Lovers who could not afford a place for intimacy or hiding their disgraceful actions from the world used the venue as a rendezvous location to carry out the most bizarre of actions – she minded her business, rushing to her destination before dawn caught her like a masquerade, her pain and fear of losing the most precious thing she had, shoehorned her further into the darkness … without fear, dread or anything but the paramount uncertainty that was but certain to end in death and loss.