Confessions of an Old Magician

Written by: Ibrahim Al-Zaydi

My name is Mohsen, I am now twenty-nine years old, and I am from the city of Al Hoceima. My brother was adopted, but I was raised by a woman and her husband: my mother, Saadia, and my father, Mohammed. They were the first people I ever knew. I never asked about my parents other than them. They had a daughter older than me, their biological daughter, but they never had any more children after that.

The story begins in 2004, when we went to the desert, specifically to my mother's relatives in Al-Sa'diya. I was nine years old at the time. That year, an earthquake struck, claiming many lives. Since then, I began to discover truths about myself: that I am not a normal person. I was the type who loved solitude and going out into nature and the sea.

On our second night in the desert, I went for a walk and strayed far from the house. On my way back, I came across a dilapidated house that looked as if it were about to collapse, as if it were haunted. I still don't know what prompted me to enter it. The door was made of sheet metal. As soon as I stepped inside, I saw that the walls were covered with strange symbols and talismans. What shocked me was not the symbols themselves, but the fact that I knew their meaning and how they were used, even though I was young and had no knowledge of this world.

I began to hear many voices whispering in my ear. After a minute, my vision darkened and I felt very dizzy, then those symbols disappeared from the wall as if they had never been there. I ran away, which is a natural reaction for anyone who sees something like that. I returned home and told my mother that I had heard voices coming from inside that place, but I did not tell her that I had gone inside. My cousin told me that the house had been abandoned for a long time, and some people say it is haunted.

That night, after dinner, I went to bed. I felt as if someone was pressing down on my head. I opened my eyes and saw an old woman holding a black rope and pulling it across my forehead and the back of my head. Her eyebrows were thick, her eyes were half-closed, and she had no visible mouth. My cousins were sleeping beside me. I kept screaming, but it was as if they couldn't hear me. Suddenly, the woman put something in my mouth, and I lost consciousness until morning. When I woke up, I couldn't speak, as if my throat was closed. When I sat down with my family for lunch, I had a nervous breakdown, fell to the ground, and they didn't know what to do. When I came to, I couldn't remember anything from the night before. One of our relatives said that I might have swallowed something, so she brought some herbs and ground them up. As soon as I smelled them, I vomited, and a silver ring belonging to a little girl who lived there came out of my throat. It had a large stone in it, and that was what had been stuck in my throat.

That day passed and I went out as usual, but I refrained from approaching that house. At night, as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I saw a five-pointed star appearing and disappearing on the ceiling, and next to it words in Hebrew that resembled names. I lost myself and began to read those words without meaning to. As I said, I understood them without having learned them. Suddenly, my cousin started screaming, as if someone were restraining him and preventing him from moving. His mother said it was just a nightmare. When I looked at his face, I saw that it was abnormally long, and then the scene disappeared. My aunt said to him, "Read the Qur'an and recite the Shahada before you go to sleep."

The next day, as we were preparing to return to the city, my aunt carried a large wooden box and gave it to my mother, Saadia. It was an old box, beautiful on the outside, but I disliked it for no reason. I tried to help them carry it, but I felt my hand almost break from its weight, so I let go and it fell. I screamed that my hand was broken. My father, Muhammad, turned my arm over and said, "It's nothing, just a bruise." They carried the box and put it in my older sister's house. Since then, problems began in the house.

My mother, Saadia, became very irritable over the smallest things. Once, she was arguing with my brother, so she picked up a pressure cooker from the stove and threw it out the window. Thank God no one was hurt. She wasn't like that before; she used to be calm. One day, my parents went to the market and left me at home. I started hearing noises in my sister's room. I went to check but found nothing. As I was returning to my seat, a broad-shouldered man appeared in front of me, with long black hair and red eyes that looked as if they were filled with blood. The scene lasted only a few seconds, then he disappeared. My sister Sumaya came in and found me trembling and unable to stand. She asked me, "What's wrong?" and I fell into her arms. I woke up in the hospital. The doctor said my blood pressure had risen very high and I was close to death.

I returned home and began to smell a foul odour that no one else could smell. I could no longer bear to sit in Sumaya's room for more than a few minutes before my head began to ache and I felt nauseous. Three days later, we heard screams coming from her room. She said she woke up to find a woman pulling her hair and saying, "Turn off the light, my head hurts." Sumaya had left a dim light on for decoration at night. Then the woman disappeared. My mother, Al-Sa'diya, said, "It's a demon. You were dreaming!" She turned off the light, but throughout the night she could hear the sound of a woman combing her hair until dawn.

Our lives were disrupted. My father Muhammad and my mother Al-Sa'diya began to argue constantly and no longer slept in the same room. My mother began to drop things from her hands involuntarily, as if some force were pulling them out of her grasp and breaking them. As for me, this was just the beginning of a world that lasted for nearly twelve years: I began to see talismans on the walls, written in Arabic letters in an unfamiliar way, and I heard a voice in my ear reading to me what was written. I didn't dare tell anyone, lest they say I was crazy or imagining things. Without realising it, I began to prefer food without salt and asked my mother to cook for me alone. If I ate anything salty, I would vomit. My sleep became disturbed, and at school I would see the talismans on the blackboard and be amazed. The teacher would scold me and hit me so hard that his fingerprints remained on my face.

That evening, I got angry and fell asleep before dinner. I saw a dark-skinned man dressed in black carrying a huge sword. He laughed and said to me, "The one who hurt you will see what will happen to him," and mentioned the teacher's name. My mother woke me up. The next day, the teacher was absent, and then he was absent for a month with a medical certificate. I heard the teachers say that he had been in a building under construction, fell, and broke his hip. I remembered the words of the man I saw in my dream. I kept saying to myself, "Maybe it's just a dream."

As for my sister Sumaya, she deteriorated. Once, my mother was talking to her, but it was as if she couldn't hear. Suddenly, she got up and went to the kitchen in a strange manner, saying in a harsh voice, "Don't shout, it hurts my head." The next morning, she lost her voice for ten days and developed a sore throat, then it returned after she took some honey and herbal medicine. Later that night, we heard the sound of slaughter in the kitchen and something falling and hitting the floor. We rushed to find her holding a large knife, the kind used to slaughter sacrificial animals. We turned on the light and saw that she had cut herself and there was blood on her clothes, but she did not feel it. My father, Muhammad, approached to take the knife away, but she raised the knife to his neck and said, "I will not leave it to you." She pressed the knife back and forth on her neck as if she had no limits. Thank God she survived, but my father beat her and locked her in a small windowless room. We watched her through a small opening until she fell asleep. My mother said, "Tomorrow we will look for a healer to treat her, for my daughter is possessed." We went to a nearby healer, but as soon as I entered, I recoiled from him and said to my father, "This will not help us." My father sent me home, and when I arrived, I found my mother, Sa'diya, lying on the floor and Samia was gone. She had left on her own, as if compelled by some force. We heard screams in the alley: she had thrown herself from the neighbours' second-floor balcony. We took her to the hospital, where she underwent surgery on her head. She was nearly paralysed and died, but God saved her. She broke her legs and shoulder. The exorcist said he would not lay his hands on her until she had recovered a little, because her condition could worsen.

Everyone knew that she was no longer normal. Once, my mother's grandmother, Al-Sa'diya, came to visit, and Sumaya stared at her and said, "You are the reason for Mas'uda's death. You bewitched her until the magic dog ate her and she died." Masouda was my mother's first aunt. She married young, but her husband's family did not want her, so my mother's grandmother bewitched her, and she fell ill and died. Sumaya had a severe seizure and was taken to hospital. My brothers blamed my father and mother, saying, "Treat your daughter, she is possessed." The doctor said, "Take care of her and don't upset her, for she is old and cannot tolerate stress." Our grandmother said to my mother, Sa'diya, "If you want my approval, expel your daughter from the house, for she is not normal!" She suggested that they lock her up somewhere. Imagine that she asked for her granddaughter to be expelled for fear of scandal, which means that there was something significant behind it.

During Ramadan, my mother woke up at night to prepare suhoor, and when she looked at the kitchen window, she saw the reflection of an ugly woman in the glass, as if her mouth had fallen off and her face had been beaten. She dropped a pot on her foot and burned herself. As for me, my story with this world actually began on the first Ramadan I was required to observe. I was determined to pray, but as soon as I stood up to pray, I felt suffocated and unable to finish. When the teacher spoke about religion, I heard laughter in my ears. I resisted praying, but I didn't attribute it to jinn; I thought it was an illness. Nevertheless, it continued throughout Ramadan, despite what is said about demons being chained up.

I was praying Taraweeh near the loudspeaker when suddenly my hearing was cut off27 during the night, and the Qur'an sounded like static in my ears until I could no longer hear anything. I finished the prayer with difficulty. We returned home, had suhoor, and went to sleep. I saw a black bird with black eyes standing above me, then it disappeared. I said, "Perhaps I am imagining things." As for Sumayya, she did not fast during Ramadan, as she suffered from frequent bleeding and severe anaemia.

Later, some neighbours told my mother that a respectable woman with a horse (i.e. a woman of influence) had come to visit her relatives, perhaps to treat Sumaya. The woman came, but instead of treating her, she took out a deck of cards to read her fortune, and began asking about her life and mentioning the names of her children with strange details, which surprised us. She said, "This girl will either become a fortune teller like us or she will be struck by misfortune." We knew that our sister was in danger, and the woman insisted on taking her with her, but my mother refused after some people warned her that she exploited girls like Sumaya.

I was fifteen, obsessed with this world, searching for books and experiences, and distancing myself from the devout who called me to the Qur'an. A friend of mine who had memorised forty chapters advised me a lot, but I would forget what I had memorised the next day, and prayer was a burden to me. If I prayed, obscene images would invade my mind and destroy my reverence. In a frightening situation, I almost hurt that friend by the sea for no reason, as if something inside me wanted to kill him, so he cut off his relationship with me.

After that, I tried some drugs, and not just cigarettes. I met a young man a little older than me who had an old book of spells belonging to his uncle, a sorcerer in Taroudant. He wanted to try the incantations, and we needed a black candle and our blood. We drew the incantations. He cut his hand and raised the candle, but nothing happened. As soon as I cut my hand, before I even raised the candle, it went out on its own, and we heard a dragging sound and a noise at the door. We ran away and left everything behind. That night, I saw a strange creature dragging me with a chain into a deep hole and saying, "This is your grave. I prepared it for you." I woke up and my face was black as coal, returning to normal and then turning black again.

A distinguished man from Oujda arrived. As soon as he entered, Sumaya came out of her room as if driven by some force and attacked him. He recited a spell over her and tied her tongue, saying, "I am Al-Kahla, and I entered this house through magic." He asked her where it was, and she said: in her bedroom. We searched but did not find it. Then he turned to me, and I felt a heaviness in my hands as if they were bound in chains, and I threatened him. He said that a jinn had made a blood pact with me and would not leave except with sacrifices slaughtered in unclean places, which is shirk, so he refused. He recited until the jinn came out of my right ear. I have not been able to hear out of it since that day. After that, I hated ruqyah.

I lived with bad company, moving between them, tasting illicit money, selling and using drugs, and going astray. My face grew darker and thinner. After about three or four years of wandering, one night in the wilderness, we saw a spark of fire in the distance. Some thought it was a sorcerer, but I went to him alone. He was indeed a sorcerer, and he invited me to his house outside the city. I found him living in squalor, but he had many books, many of which were genuine. He asked for a picture of my sister, looked at it and said: "There is magic in the house, put it in something wooden that came with you." The box came to mind. He said: "Your sister's condition is not serious, I will send someone to remove the spell, but you must remove the magic yourself." Then he shocked me by saying: "This is not your sister of your blood."

I asked him about my suffering, and he said: You made a blood covenant, and the nobleman did not fulfil his promise, and the covenant will be inherited by his sons. Then he said: You are not alone, but there are many of the lower ones, and I see them. The story of the talismans that you have seen since childhood is a legacy from your sorcerer ancestors, and your real father is a sorcerer. He offered me two choices: either to follow in the footsteps of my father and ancestors with the jinn, or to leave and never return. I left at dawn and returned to Sumayya's house, where I found the magic in the box. It was made by my mother's mother, Al-Sa'diya (my grandmother), for my aunt's husband to leave her. When the box reached us, the curse was transferred to us. After that, my father brought a sorcerer and broke the spell, and Sumaya was fine again, but years of her life were lost.

I sat with my mother, Al-Sa'diya, as she told me my origins. She said that the midwife took me and handed me over to her because my real mother was afraid that my father, the sorcerer, would inherit me. My real parents were from a line of sorcerers, and in order to conceive a child with certain characteristics, they would copulate on the night of the full moon after three days of rituals. My mother refused this, so when I was born, the midwife conspired to take me. There is no news of her today.

I decided to stay with the sorcerer Al-Abdi. He told me, "If you want to go far, kill this," pointing to his heart, meaning kill mercy and conscience. He was cruel and took revenge on his family, saying that he had run away from a wealthy family and tormented them. He stipulated that I should not enter his workroom. He had lower demons with him who showed no mercy to those who opposed them. I used to help him with the unclean sacrifices, and I was amazed at people's requests: a woman bewitching her husband, a brother bewitching his brother, and a son bewitching his father. He used to lure some customers and show no mercy to anyone. I wanted to be like him.

I entered the preparatory sessions. His body was swollen, his veins were visible, his eyes were rolling, and his belly looked like he was pregnant. He told me: There is a jinn in your right ear. He told me that the jinn appears to you in order to break down the barrier of fear, and that this is not its true form. He taught me how to communicate with my ancestors' legacy, then advised me not to step into what I could not handle. But my ambition drove me to surpass him. I sneaked into his room and learned the names of powerful jinn, and I began to summon one of them with seven days of seclusion, impurity, and writing talismans on the skin of a recently deceased human. I contacted the morgue worker, obtained the skin, secluded myself in a remote place, and saw a terrifying old man with a beard that reached the ground, three teeth, and sunken eyes. I read the covenants and cut my hand on a candle bearing his name, and the covenant was sealed. A pit appeared before me, containing talismans, servants, and their names.

I returned elated. The slave had been on a failed retreat because the devil had demanded the sacrifice of a child with syphilis, which he refused to do. The slave began to physically deteriorate until he died three months later, his skin turning blue and emitting a foul odour. We washed him and buried him.

I travelled to eastern Morocco, near Berkane. I tried to live an upright life, but secretly practised magic. They prevented me from doing any good: even if I wanted to feed a stray cat, it would run away, or a dog would bite me. I deliberately entered the mosque on my side. My illicit relationships increased, especially with married women who came for treatment. I hated exorcists and scholars. A novice exorcist came to me to start a relationship with me, but he suddenly choked and ran away sick. A woman came to me wanting a job, so I asked for a black goat no more than two years old. I put a servant on it until it stood on two legs, then brought it close to the fire, but it was not afraid. Her faith in me increased, and she paid more.

But my path of regret began when I saw our neighbour's daughter, with her beautiful features, whom I loved like my own daughter. She was later kidnapped, and they searched for her in vain. I summoned two servants and let them lead me to her, and I found her in a hut with a man, with the consent of her stepfather, who pretended to be searching for her. They wanted to extract a treasure from her near Marrakesh. I rescued her and brought her back, and people began to trust me more and come from far away. But all my deeds are base, and if I try to do good, they spoil it. When I did good for the child, two servants rose up against me and burned my feet as punishment, so I decided to disobey the sacrifices. My life was ruined: fires broke out in my house, lamps exploded, I heard people cursing my name, and whenever I prostrated myself, I felt a grip on my head, and a black dog attacked me in my sleep. My condition deteriorated, I was kicked out of the house, I slept near the shrines, I was beaten for no reason, I lost my money, and I began to imagine a goat talking to me, asking me to slaughter it as a sacrifice. I cried to my father Muhammad and my mother Sa'diya, and they insisted that I return. But I was bound to this path.

I decided to renew my covenant with the devils by praying on impurity, facing away from the qibla, and reading verses backwards. I returned to practising dirty magic. I met a wealthy woman in the Emirates (I will call her Queen). She took me on as a driver on the surface and a magician in secret, wanting her lover to take control of her husband's money. I performed acts of separation and hatred in a broken mirror, and we buried it in the cemetery. The man divorced his wife, his eldest son was ruined by alcohol and problems until he was imprisoned, and the younger son was alienated from his father. The man wrote Queen a house and cars, and I started earning millions. Terrifying incidents multiplied in their palace: a Filipino maid saw a face like a dog's and twisted her arm, the middleman saw a girl with long hair jumping out of the window, and the father saw a body hanging from the ceiling. I was afraid that they would bring a magician and turn the magic against us. I drowned in debauchery with Malika and her friends. I tried to marry the daughter of a preacher who appeared on television, but all my efforts failed because their house was protected by spells and fortifications.

I was twenty-four years old and owned a house, a car, and a business, but I felt empty inside. During the coronavirus pandemic, I dreamt of my happy mother crying, and then I received news of her death. I cried a lot, as she was the closest person to me, and I distanced myself from her for fear of hurting her with my wrongdoing. After COVID, I met a girl from Europe and we got married. She was into witchcraft, so I made her even more attached to me with a love spell until she cut ties with her family. I emigrated to be with her and we had a son and a daughter. When I decided to leave her spell, she hated me and kicked me out. I left in anger, fell on the road, and was taken to hospital: my kidneys had failed and I needed dialysis and a transplant. I spent all my money on the operation. I tried to visit my children, but they kicked me out, so I became homeless. Malika contacted me and offered me my return, money, and houses, as a trap to get me back. But I was exhausted. I feel like they are sucking my blood every day, and my right ear hurts as if something wants to come out.

Some irregular migrants rescued me and took me in, but my presence caused discord among them, so I left them out of fear for their safety. What really made me back down were my children and the death of my mother, Saadia, which shook me to the core. I stayed on the street for two months until I met a young man in his thirties from a Sufi family. His father was Sudanese and his mother was from the country, Zahri Slimani. As soon as he saw me, he said, "Stay with me." He asked me to pray with him, and he led the prayer, and I fell to the ground behind him. I realised that certainty in God is what makes the difference. He recited the Qur'an to me, and I was so deep in a coma that I didn't understand anything, then I woke up. He said, "You will stay here until you are healed." He recited to me every day and taught my heart to pray and read the Qur'an. Before, when I opened the Qur'an, I saw it upside down or with blank pages. After a month and a half, he said, "Now go, for the jinn and all the servants have been removed from you, even what you inherited from your ancestors. Your hearing will return to normal." And by God, I regained hearing in my right ear after years of damage. I knew that what had happened to me was because of them, and that nothing can change the way of God.

I returned to my wife without charm, and we lived together for two years before separating permanently. I spent a little time with my children during their childhood, then their mother took them away. I returned to Morocco and consoled my father Muhammad and my sister Sumayya on the death of my mother Al-Sa'diya. I cried a lot in every corner of the house. Sumaya married that man I didn't like, but he turned out to be a good person, and the problem was with me. Today, I live in Europe, working and living with a Moroccan friend. I cut off contact with Malika. I don't want to get married now; I live for my children. I heard that the person who treated me moved to another country, and his debt will remain on my neck for as long as I live. I am now 29 years old, completely different from the young Mohsen; even what I inherited is no longer close to me, and when I see them in my dreams, I see them as distant. I maintain my prayers, my recitation of the Qur'an, and my remembrance of God before bed. I felt that I had lived beyond my years, and I decided to rest and get away from it all, and live what remains of my life with a peaceful mind.

This is my story in brief. I have mentioned the important points concerning me and left out many details. Thank you for listening, and I ask for your prayers. My advice to everyone is: do not take this path, for it leads only to misfortune. I ask Allah for repentance and forgiveness for us and for you. Peace be upon you and the mercy and blessings of Allah.