In the quiet village of Uka, hidden deep within the rural stretches of South Africa’s Eastern Cape, a story has emerged that has shaken both residents and outsiders to their core.
What began as whispers about unexplained deaths has now unfolded into one of the most chilling accounts of alleged ritual killings in the region.
At the center of it all stands a man named Mohau Nkota, who today claims he was forced into silence by a force that few can comprehend.

For years, Uka appeared like any other remote settlement, where life moved slowly, elders watched over their families, and the land carried stories older than memory.
But behind its tranquil surface, women were dying in ways that defied reason.
Their deaths came suddenly, quietly, and with little evidence left behind. 

The first case recorded by the village council was in 2017, when a young woman named Zinhle was found lifeless near the river.
Her body carried no obvious wounds, yet witnesses said her face was frozen in terror.
“She looked as if something had squeezed the breath out of her,” one elder recalled.
The community was baffled, but with no clear cause of death, the matter was buried with her.

Over the next three years, four more women died in similar circumstances.
Each was found in or near her home, each without signs of struggle.
Rumors spread that a curse had descended upon Uka.
Others whispered that an unseen predator walked among them.
Still, no one dared to speak openly.

It was only in 2021 that a clearer picture began to emerge.
A respected local healer, who asked not to be named, claimed she had been approached by Mohau Nkota in secret.
According to her, Nkota confessed that he carried something inside him—something he could not control.
“He said he had been chosen against his will,” she explained.
“He said a snake lived within him, and that snake demanded women.”

The words sound impossible to modern ears, but in Uka, belief in spiritual possession is not unusual.
What made the claim disturbing was not only its nature, but the fear with which Nkota delivered it.
“He told me, ‘They said I mustn’t speak, or it’s gone.’”
The healer believes “they” referred not to humans, but to the entity he believed lived inside him.

The deaths continued.
By 2022, the body count had reached seven.
Each woman was between the ages of 18 and 32.
Each appeared healthy prior to her sudden death.
And each showed subtle but chilling similarities.
There were faint bruises along the neck.
In one case, a villager swore he saw what looked like bite marks shaped like fangs, though the skin bore no puncture.

At this stage, panic gripped the village.
Some families fled Uka entirely.
Others took to guarding their daughters day and night.
The local chief, Obie Mthembu, was forced to address the situation publicly.
“We cannot hide from what is happening here,” he said at a gathering.
“Women are dying, and our people are living in fear.
Whether this is a spirit, a curse, or a crime, we must face it.”

The police did make appearances in Uka, though official reports listed the deaths as “undetermined” or “natural causes.”
Without evidence of assault, the law offered no path forward.
This only deepened the villagers’ belief that something supernatural was at play.
“The law cannot catch a snake that lives in a man’s belly,” one old man remarked bitterly.

Everything shifted when an outsider named Adanna, a traveling oracle from the north, arrived in Uka late last year.
Her presence was controversial from the beginning.
Some elders rejected her, calling her an opportunist.
Others begged her to intervene, desperate for an answer.
Adanna listened to the testimonies, spoke privately with Nkota, and made a startling declaration: “The killings will not stop until the snake is named and removed.”

Her words echoed through the community.
For the first time, Nkota himself was confronted directly in front of his people.
According to witnesses, he trembled, shook violently, and then collapsed, crying out: “It’s not me, it’s inside!”
Those present claim his voice changed, deepening unnaturally, before he fell unconscious.
When he awoke hours later, he reportedly whispered, “It’s gone.”

Whether one believes this story depends on one’s view of the supernatural.
Skeptics argue that Nkota may have been a serial killer, strangling women in a way that left little physical evidence.
The “snake” could have been a metaphor for urges he could not resist.
From this perspective, the villagers’ belief in spirits may have offered him a convenient disguise.

But believers insist otherwise.
They say Nkota was never the same after the ritual.
He appeared gaunt, drained, yet free.
And most importantly, since that night, there have been no new deaths in Uka.
Not one.

The contrast is difficult to ignore.
Seven women died in five years.
Then came the ritual, and the killings ceased.
To the villagers, this is proof enough.
“The oracle saved us,” said Thandiwe, whose sister was among the victims.
“I don’t care what outsiders say.
We saw the snake leave him.
We saw the deaths stop.”

The story of Uka has since spread beyond the village, sparking fierce debate across South Africa.
Some media outlets have treated it as folklore, a rural legend meant to explain tragedy.
Others have reported it as evidence of the enduring power of traditional belief systems.
For the families who lost daughters, however, it is neither legend nor metaphor.
It is pain, grief, and survival.

One of the most haunting questions that remains is whether Nkota himself was victim or perpetrator.
Did he knowingly kill, hiding behind the claim of possession?
Or was he, as some insist, truly an unwilling host for something far beyond human understanding?
The answer may never be known.

Chief Mthembu, in his final statement on the matter, urged reconciliation rather than vengeance.
“We have lost many, and we cannot bring them back.
But we have faced the darkness.
We will not let silence rule us again.”

As for Nkota, he has since left Uka.
No one knows exactly where he is now.
Some say he returned to his mother’s home in the Free State.
Others whisper that he wanders from village to village, carrying a shadow that may never fully leave him.
Attempts by journalists to locate him have so far failed.

The absence of closure has left many uneasy.
Could the snake return?
Could another host be chosen?
Or was it all, in the end, the work of a deeply troubled man hiding his crimes behind superstition?

What cannot be denied is the silence that now hangs over Uka.
The deaths have stopped, but the memory has not faded.
Every woman who walks alone after dark does so with the memory of those who never came home.
Every child who hears the tale will grow up with the shadow of fear.
And every villager carries the weight of knowing that for years, a killer—or a curse—walked among them.

“They told me not to speak,” Nkota once confessed.
“They said if I spoke, it would be gone.”
Now that he has spoken, the killings have ended.
But the truth of what lived inside him—whether snake, spirit, or sin—remains locked in the shadows of Uka.