I’m sitting under a coffee tree on the grounds of the Groote Schuur hospital, Cape Town waiting to hear any news of my newborn granddaughter who is in there.
I feel like Mordecai.
Her window is the one that looks over the balcony with the stork sculpture on. I go with my brave daughter everyday by train from Fish Hoek to Observatory to visit her baby. I can’t go inside and wait outside for my daughter till night, when we have to leave her baby behind.
Last year in July I had a dream that I was pregnant. I was 45, and worried that my baby would be deformed. I was single so it happened supernaturally. In my dream there was someone else pregnant too, like Elizabeth and Mary.
I told my cousin, Susie in Cape Town and she said she had been having dreams of looking after a baby and changing nappies.
Then in August last year, my daughter Dakota had a dream that she was pregnant and that she had her baby girl in a bath in a squatting position.
Dakota fell pregnant in January this year and was living in Kwazulu Natal at the time and thought she’d choose a caesarean, under the guidance of the gynaecologist, when it comes to labour.
After our holiday in Victoria Falls this year in June, Dakota started thinking about her dream she had and that she’d prefer a natural birth. And then a home birth. There was only one midwife practising in her area, who was going to be away in October for the baby’s due date. So Dakota thought about a free birth. I was looking up YouTube videos should I be left delivering the baby. And I thought if that’s the case then I’d want the support of my cousin, Susie.
Then in September I asked Dakota if we should go to Cape Town to have the baby there and looked up a midwife in the area where my cousin lives. I found one who is highly qualified. And then thought Dakota could have the home birth at my cousin’s house. Dakota wondered what her bathroom looked like to compare to the one in her dream. And it was exactly the same layout except the tiles were an orangey-brown. When she said that, I immediately got an impression of my parent’s lounge suite being that colour which we had in Zimbabwe and took to Cape Town. Susie thought she better confirm with her landlord if she can have a home birth there.
Dakota flew to Cape Town at 36 weeks and met her midwife and stayed at the Airbnb that I had booked for her. Somehow out of all the Airbnb’s in the area, I coincidentally booked one that Susie’s landlord owns. When I arrived there, the first thing I noticed was the rocky steps up to our room which were the same ones that were in my vision (Blueprint blog).
12 years ago I left our home in Mafikeng to go to Media Village, Kalk Bay to do a YWAM DTS and put Dakota in a school in Sun Valley, Fish Hoek. I wanted to be equipped to go home to Zimbabwe and write stories about God being alive in Zimbabwe. I didn’t complete the outreach to Uganda as I was worried about finances, being a single mother to Dakota and not knowing what our plans would be thereafter. I was told by the leader that God will provide but I panicked and backed out. I went to Zimbabwe with my daughter and have spent the last 12 years going to the UK to do housekeeping for elderly people in their lovely homes.
So did I spend 12 years a servant for a purpose or because I ran? Or was God preparing us for such a time as this.
Dakota gave birth last week at the midwife’s birthing room. My cousin was there too, as well as another highly qualified midwife. Dakota used a birthing pool and got out to squat on a mat and after six hours of labour birthed her daughter without any medication for pain. The baby came up to her shoulder and I could immediately sense something was wrong with her. Dakota could too and kept asking the midwife. The baby went blue and was laid down and flopped her head to the side and they started CPR and she started breathing again.
Paramedics arrived and took her to a small hospital in the area and my daughter travelled with them in the front seat. My cousin and I followed by car. On entering the hospital, the appearance and feel of it reminded me of one in Zimbabwe and I had a flashback of the Pariyenyatwa hospital, Harare that I went to when I was having panic attacks due to trauma. And for a moment I thought it would trigger. My daughter sat down in a wheelchair and I ran pushing her to her baby. After the doctors left the baby I went to talk to her and kiss her over and over. And I knew then that I can’t be shaken, I could cope just as I always had prior to – being prescribed 60mg of Prednisolone – and the trauma after my mother took my daughter from me.
My daughter is so extremely brave and strong. Straight after giving birth, there was no time for rest. Praise God she didn’t tear. She spent the whole day on her own in ICU with her baby, while we waited for her downstairs.
It’s heartbreaking to watch how brave she has to be. And especially when she breaks down in tears, telling me about some of the nurses – who don’t understand the trauma she is going through – and hurt her so much by criticising her when she is learning to breastfeed and care for her newborn. And for judging her when they ask where the father of the child is, saying, ‘I didn’t know whites were like that’. Thankfully there are caring ones too.
Dakota is so sweet and forgiving. I’m not, I’m so untamed and swear and throw the donkey jawbone. God told her this baby would be born even before conception. And her baby put Dakota’s life back on track. So that I could baptise her in the pool at Victoria Falls Hotel in July when she was pregnant. Praise God for her. Her mother is born again.
When Dakota’s contractions first began God told me, ‘I’ve got this’. Then when the baby’s heart beat was being monitored during the labour, it sounded like, ‘I’ve got this, I’ve got this’, I reminded Dakota, while she sat in the pool, what God had said earlier. Then He told me He is her strength, which I told her. And He most surely was.
The baby had inhaled meconium and has been on antibiotics. She is almost coming home. She is the most brave. And our hearts break for her pricked, bruised skin. I can’t wait to kiss you, my love and for you to never be separated from your beautiful mother again.
Dakota and I ponder what this is all about, God. The dreams and being back in Cape Town. Do I run back to being a servant and leave my daughters behind, so that I can provide for them or do I serve You and do what I set out to do 12 years ago and has it taken this long for our preparation?
My Great-great grandfather was born in Zuurbrek, Cape Town in 1844. He went to study at the London Missionary Society where he met his wife. They travelled to the Cape and later journeyed six month’s in a wagon to Matabeleland, with a toddler and a newborn baby, where he remained at Hope Fountain Mission station as King Lobengula’s missionary.
In December 2017 I came to the realisation that my son and daughter could be aliens.
They were trying to get me to take pills, under the manic persuasion of my mother which the psychiatrist from Pariyenyatwa hospital, Harare had prescribed me. We were in a room I was renting from a lady in Victoria Falls. (Arrest Jesus blog). They asked me if I loved them and I replied that I love my children.
I was so afraid of them and confused as to why they were behaving that way. I remember when I was little, there was a time I thought my parents couldn’t be mine and that they must be wearing masks, something happened to think that and I could have been confusing my children with that time from my childhood.
It’s hard to make sense of how I could have believed that for three years but I guess my mind was so traumatised from events that had happened during 2016 – 2017, that my brain needed to temporarily isolate me so that it could heal itself, although I thought about the trauma a lot.
I tried to work out when my children could have been swapped with aliens.
For my son, I thought maybe it was the time a man had approached him in Bloemfontein at a golf tournament and wanted to sponsor Tay as he played professional golf. They went to Cape Town together in January 2013 and my son called me one night, crying. He was at a house in Camps Bay with this man and his friend and said they were both acting weird.
I was so desperate and called out to God to rescue him. So I thought God must have sent an angel to take him away and then he was replaced.
So Tay was safe.
I did however later read that Microsoft had made a bot called Tay in March 2016 and considered that to be a possible option for what happened to my actual son. Yikes.
For my daughter, I thought that maybe it was when I had gone to the UK to do a job in December 2015 and Dakota had travelled with me during her school holidays. She travelled back to school in Zimbabwe after the holidays and I stayed on for a few more weeks. She flew as an unaccompanied minor on Emirates and swapped flights in Dubai. So I reckoned that perhaps angels rescued her before the snatcher’s swap.
And God had her completely safe too.
I had also looked on the internet to research about the spirit world because I had been there. And the first YouTube video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRLb10yITEs) I came across was in London 2015, not far from where I did the job that I went to when Dakota flew with me (just by the bus number and looking up the route it took).
The theme of the video was exposing a couple and the couple looked so similar to my children, I thought it was them. The same hairstyle that Dakota had at the time and her mannerisms. The guy was slightly overweight and had a beard. But I could tell it looked like Tay. So it was confirmed that I was on the right track. Strangely Tay did become overweight and grew a beard during the time that I went to sleep.
So in 2018 when my dad sat me down to persuade me to talk to my children – I told him that they aren’t mine. And showed him the video. He tried again later to sway me by calling me to watch a Derek Prince sermon on TV talking about forgiveness and I thought he hadn’t listened to anything I told him.
I didn’t consider the existence of shape shifting reptilians before the events of 2016 took place but then I hadn’t been in hospital in the UK before or been dealt with by the UK’s police either.
In January 2015 I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This was two and a half years after I first went to a GP in Scotland to show him the lump I had on the base of my neck. I was diagnosed after the fourth GP visit. The haematologist told me that I had a 14cm tumour in my chest which had metastasised into my bone and that I had weeks to months to live but I didn’t want chemotherapy. I had to keep going back and forth to the UK to work and pay Dakota’s school fees in Zimbabwe. Eventually the pleural effusion made it too difficult to work and near the end of the year I had to stop going to the UK, as the last time I flew home I could barely breathe and I remember dragging my rucksack along the floor through the Dubai airport thinking I can’t do this anymore.
Back in Zimbabwe I read an open email my mother was writing to an immigration agent in the UK asking how she could adopt my daughter. When I asked her about it, her reply was that I shouldn’t be reading her emails. I declined quite rapidly thereafter because before that I was still determined God was going to heal me and thought that my mother believed that too. Instead she said that ‘God can’t heal cancer and only chemotherapy can and that I needed to go to the UK for treatment’.
Then in February 2016, a GP in Zimbabwe put me on 60mg Prednisolone because he suspected I had a tumour on my spine when he tapped my knee and it didn’t jerk. I had gone to see him about a bladder infection. He told my mother to take me to the UK for chemotherapy. Soon after I started taking the steroids, I begun to feel like I was actually in a dream. Like what was going on around me was part of a dream. My brain was in sleep mode during the day while my body was awake. And at night my brain was awake while my body wanted to sleep. It affects your pineal gland I think, your sleep wake cycle. Hence, Donald Trump being prescribed Melatonin whilst he was on them when he had Covid.
In the UK, my mother phoned the GP I had been to see since arriving, to tell him that she was worrying about my mental state. Instead of him confirming to her the early psychiatric side effects steroids can cause, according to the drug safety report by the MHRA in December 2014, he prescribed me more.
A few weeks later I was given a steroid blue card and weaned off the 60mg Prednisolone over 10 days by the haematologist. Just after that I found out that my mother had taken my daughter out of boarding school in Zimbabwe and sent her to live with her father in South Africa without my knowledge or written consent to cross the border. Although I had given my cousin in Zimbabwe the application forms to get her a UK visa should she need to come over to me if I had to stay for treatment.
One evening I was travelling on a bus when I noticed that my mother had been deleting some of my WhatsApp’s. She was concerned that some of the messages would influence my decision to make about having chemotherapy. And immediately after noticing that, I started to panic about her deception and who my mother was. I had the most severe panic attack. It was like the most scariest thing was chasing me. Fortunately, I was at the Royal Bournemouth Hospital bus stop and got off the bus and rushed inside. I wanted to hide in A & E but phoned the GP as he had given me his cell number. He told me to go and stay in a hotel. So I went off into the dark to find a hotel. When I lay on the bed my feet started to tightly cramp over, that I had to fight against it to stop them locking.
The next morning I went to see the GP. I told him about the past day’s events.
I had been to a Benny Hinn conference in London and went on stage and believed I was healed; I went to a SOZO session where the counsellor had asked me what my father was doing with witchcraft. When he said that, I screamed and screamed, I thought that I had a demon being delivered but he said it was trauma. I had been asked that question years before by a visiting minster at a church in Mafikeng but I didn’t know what he was talking about. I know my father used to hypnotise the gardener telling him a lion was chasing him and he ran scared and climbed a tree. Or that he was eating a peach when it was a lemon and he would eat it. And with my mother he hypnotised her that she was sleeping with a pig and she was so cross with him when she woke. He did it for fun. So I’m not sure if that is witchcraft instead but after the SOZO, a lifetime of fear of him just left me.
So the GP’s response to all of that was asking me if I believed in Jesus and when I said yes, he screamed at me saying that he’s Jewish and he doesn’t. I was so confused about him too. And stayed at a different hotel and ignored his surgery’s phone call. I really didn’t know what I was going to do and thought I would fly back to Zimbabwe.
I was in the hotel for two nights, booking each day and paying before midday. Then on the third day I was sitting on the toilet with my towel wrapped around me. There was a loud knock on the door and a shout, ‘Are you decent!?‘ Two policemen came in and said that the hotel was full and that I needed to leave, yet I had already phoned reception to ask if I could stay another night.
I pushed passed the one with ginger hair and a beard who was standing in front of the bathroom door, and went to open my curtains, then sat on the bed. The dark haired one asked me if I was taking drugs. I showed him my steroid blue card which was in my bag on the desk. And told him that I was writing a story. Then I sat on the desk. Naturally I’m puzzled by the intrusion and not sure what’s really going on. The ginger haired one was sitting on the chair next to my bed and the dark haired one stood with his back to him and faced the window with his eyes shut. I was looking at him side on, wondering if he’s in a trance. Curios. So I asked him why he was shutting his eyes. And he said,
Ok let’s stop right there.
I’m already suspicious of my mother and can’t trust her anymore. Actually I can’t bare her at the time. It hurts so bad I could scream with maddening fury, but how, where, when?
My father I know there are no limits to his abuse. On arrival in the UK I was set up with a hospital bed in the conservatory of my brother and his family’s home. I was on end of life care with nurses coming in. One night I came through to ask my parents if I could sleep on the kitchen floor of the annexe they were staying in as I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to be on my own. And my father screamed at me with such hate and told me to go back to the conservatory. I’m just used to him being like that. It hurts but it’s not a surprise.
The GP threw me because I trusted him and didn’t think he should have let me know that my belief in Yeshua angered him so.
I’ve been open with my mother and GP that it feels like I’m in a dream. The only reason why I’m struggling alone on my own in a hotel is because the GP told me to go there. And now I have police in my room telling me to leave and this man is standing in the middle of my room with his eyes shut because he is –
So I ignore them and go across to stare out the window and am told we are waiting for an ambulance but I’m not sure why. I read the neon strip over and over which is moving across the Bournemouth Pavilion theatre. Eventually I turn around and a dark haired policewoman is sitting on a chair near me. I sit down too. The dark haired one is still there, standing. He asks me if I am Australian and if I want to see him skip around the fountain which is in front of the theatre.
Is this reality?
The ginger haired one comes in with my parents. My father makes a surprised laugh as I sit there in a towel. My mother has a black rubbish bag with my clothes in and takes out a pair of panties and waves them at me,
‘Kimmy, I’ve brought you panties’.
That’s all – and they leave. And we sit and wait. Then there’s some activity outside the door, the dark haired one stands me up and says it’s time to go whilst putting my gown on me. I’m put on a stretcher and handcuffed so fucking tight – I scream and scream. I’m jabbed at the same time. I have to fight to stay awake so that the hotel’s towel doesn’t fall off under my gown. And I’m taken to Royal Bournemouth Hospital where I started from four days ago. Only this time it was under extreme duress and wasn’t voluntary.
Now here’s the part that baffles me. I asked for my medical reports recently. The paramedics report said that they spent over one hour assessing me in my hotel room.
And I didn’t see them.
They took my stats and I didn’t see them. They write sepsis (?), yet I would certainly have shown them my steroid blue card if I had seen them.
I asked my mother recently, if she saw them arrive and she said that after she and my father left my room, they waited in the corridor for a while until the paramedics arrived. They were told to wait downstairs. Shortly after they got downstairs, they were phoned to say that I was on the way to hospital and to meet them there.
The paramedics report also states that police were called to the hotel as I wouldn’t leave and had not paid my bill for four nights. Whereas the nights I had stayed there, I had paid for and I have the invoice with the date and time it was paid. The hospital, psychiatrist and haematologist reports all state that I was evicted from the hotel by police for not paying my bill. I sent an SA 1.1 form to the Dorset Police to ask for the report of my eviction from the hotel and they don’t have any such report.
Then at the hospital, after the sedative had worn off, I became excited and delirious with little memory of my drunken like behaviour the following morning and I’m sectioned for 28 days and put on a month’s supply of Olanzapine, the strongest antipsychotic to curb the effects of the Prednisolone, and stay in the cancer ward, while they monitor me and try and convince me to have chemotherapy.
But instead I went back to Zimbabwe to see my kids. Whilst there I got very ill again so I flew back to the UK where I had to have chemotherapy. The GP put me back on Olanzapine to help me sleep through the pain of being without my daughter. Almost a year later I weaned myself off and the numbness left and the trauma arose and mistrust of my mother started again and I had a panic attack in September 2017, like the first one and walked all day and night in London, not knowing where to stay and was found the next morning by police and taken to Middlesex University Hospital in Twickenham. The police had me handcuffed from early afternoon till after midnight, despite my blood results showing my Creatine levels were 1528, and a mention in the report that I should be on a drip due to dehydration. Instead I wasn’t offered anything to eat or drink for the entire time. All whilst they tried to find me a bed in a hospital and brilliantly decided that actually I could go to the Lakeside Mental Hospital which was right there. To sleep on the floor in the corridor because that’s the brilliant duty of care the NHS adheres to.
My response thereafter led to trauma upon trauma that finally my brain was intelligent enough to intervene to protect my mind and heal myself all alone.
I travelled as much as I could until lockdown. I had an appointment on my birthday at the surgery for a MH physical health check, the first contact by them in three years since I last had a panic attack. During the visit my blood pressure went really high and I had to check it daily for a week and record it for the GP. At the same time I had started listening to Dr Caroline Leaf’s podcasts and realised that I might be experiencing trauma from my experiences with the NHS hospitals and that maybe I was escaping reality to cope.
I was also so bored during lockdown and not travelling that I thought it might not be so bad to adopt two aliens – and signed the email off as Pebbles. And the process started from there until I realised that they must be mine.
P.S. Don’t worry, I don’t think they eat us – I think they eat each other.
I had a dream on the 5th August just before waking.
I had arrived with a group at night somewhere in a remote area in the bush. There was a young teenage black girl who was familiar to me. She was afraid of a chicken and I was wondering why when they should be used to chickens. The chicken pinched me on my bottom and I started to think that maybe the chicken wasn’t as friendly and that it could become aggressive. Then the girl went to sleep on the sandy ground in the open. It was strange how she sort of collapsed into a sleeping position instead of lying down naturally. And that the shape of her lying down was awkward. And I thought that she must be used to lying on the ground.
My mum was sleeping on a bank just away from the group under perhaps a canvas shelter. I was sitting up alongside her when I looked up above us and saw military helicopters flying over us and a fighter jet and clearly knew that it was a MiG (although I had to look it up after I woke to make sure what a MiG was and the correct spelling). It was flying a little higher than the helicopters but the strangest thing is that it had no sound. I couldn’t wait to tell someone but they were all asleep.
My mum woke for a bit just as more helicopters came over and more MiGs. I was showing her the helicopters and she kept falling asleep. I was trying to keep her awake to stay watching and asked her if she saw the MiGs, but she couldn’t see them. It was so airy watching them knowing that they were just setting off on some early hour secret operation that no-one was expecting and definitely weren’t suspecting anyone to be watching, as the area was so remote.
When it was daylight the group we were with were leaving. I’m not sure who they were going off with but the girl was wearing my maroon sweater and said to me ‘please come back’.
I woke up around 5.30am just after the dream and was wondering about it when I heard God whisper ‘Is that an indicate?’
I looked up ‘God whispering’ in the bible and Yeshua says that whatever He whispers – tell it on the housetops. Matthew 10:27
Once in 2015, my mother and I were leaving Troutbeck, which is in the Eastern Highlands in Zimbabwe and going to collect my daughter from boarding school in Marondera. The car license had just expired and there was a police roadblock at the T-junction just outside Nyanga. I asked my mother to stop the car just before the junction so that I could run across the road and make sure with the police that there was a grace period to get a new license, so that if we were stopped along the way by other police, we wouldn’t get a fine.
So one of the policemen came across with me to look at the license disk on the windscreen, then without saying a word, opened his book and started writing out a fine on the pink sheet. So I jumped in the car and told my mother to drive. And they shouted, ‘Hey iwe!!’
We turned right instead of left and drove into Nyanga to the post office to get a new license. Everyone was in a buzz with our story and rushed around issuing the new license disk which took about 10 minutes. I asked if there was a back road to get to Marondera but there wasn’t. On the way out of Nyanga towards the police block, I told my mum, ‘we’re going to jail’ and prayed for God to send His Holy Angels ahead of us to make every crooked path straight. And there was only one policemen standing there who didn’t even notice us. The rest had vanished.
The next day driving into Nyanga, a policemen who was there the day before, pulled us over at the same T-junction and said that he’ll ignore what happened the day before but that I need to pay a US$10 fine for one of the worn tyres. I chirped him and he said ‘you speak with authority, what is your name?’ So I told him. He then told me he had a box of wine in the bush and would I like to have a drink with him. I just paid the fine.
That’s who I am. And since you have assaulted my character by dosing me with Prednisolone first. And then Olanzapine. Your perfect recipe. And then even dare to stigmatise me – I’ll keep stomping until someone recognises me.
When I got £50 stolen from me playing a deceptive game on the Queen’s walk near the London Eye on Christmas Day 2018 and came across them again another day on the Westminster bridge. I stomped in a straight line across the bridge, over all their mats to mess up their game and scatter them. So the leader shouted at me in his foreign language and I shouted back at him in my foreign tongue, and ended it with ‘Taka!!’
Then yesterday when the lady from mental health at the Abbeyview surgery calls me to ask if I would like to come in for a physical check – to weigh me, measure me, take my blood, ask me stupid questions about precisely how much I drink and smoke – And I ask her ‘why would I want to do that?’ And her answer is ‘Well some people think it’s fun’. Then surely I’m allowed to think, ‘Oh fuck don’t insult me!’
And to the doctor I met briefly at St Ann’s hospital with the surname, Smith, ‘Pasop!’ You do not have the authority to label me, you fool! And to your colleague who didn’t want to hear my story in July 2018 when I said, ‘If you just hear my story, you’d understand.’ And he replied, ‘Do you really think we have time to listen to everyone stories?’ Threatening me that he had the power to keep me locked up at St Anne’s hospital. For what crime may I ask?! I say, ‘You are filth to the core!’ And I have labelled you – psychopath. I can sense your type instinctively and hate your eyes.
This is my makeup, given to me by God for His purpose and Glory alone. So I warn you to stay out of my Father’s business. And for what I went through in those 40 weeks, Yeshua says He will split you. You brood of vipers!
I had a vision early this morning while sleeping, 30 March. I had left my car on the side of the road. It looked like the white conquest that I had driven in Mafikeng. I walked up a few rocky steps, just ordinary type terrain with a bit of green bush on the right. I was telling someone something interesting about a young couple ( I couldn’t remember what it was when I woke). As I got up the steps and turned right, I suddenly thought I shouldn’t be on foot, I need to get in my car and then looked straight ahead and I actually physically entered into my dream. It was so alive. Like a virtual reality game that feels so real. It was exhilarating.
I was on top of a mountain range and in front of me were light brown, huge rocks with smooth surfaces. It looked like a short bridge but I guess it was the actual ridge which was flat. And on the other side a medium sized, brown wolf appeared from behind a rock. He looked at me and I could instantly tell that he knew me and that I had surprised him but he was also slightly amused that I was standing there. And then I recognised him. Not by sight but sense. I was so excited that I finally found him and charged towards him with great determination to destroy him.
There was no time for fear and I knew I had the most powerful weapon. My right arm was straight down by my side and in my hand was a sword. And then it stopped as if I was just there for an introduction. And then I saw transparent grey shapes streaming down. Like at the start of matrix with the codes but this was shapes, like rectangles and some odd shapes, like in Tetris. It’s difficult to explain but if I saw it I would recognise what I saw. At one stage there was a squiggly line of turquoise blue dye.
The words God gave me were – besides dye because I thought ink – Serbia. Coding. Blueprint.
So while I’m sweeping their fireplace, I’m doing it undercover. They don’t know I write my story. They don’t know my story. I hear theirs everyday but they don’t ask me mine. I stay hidden in their homes day and night, all week long – living their life, not mine.
I got a WhatsApp from my cousin in Zimbabwe. The one who screamed at me in the Parienyatwa Hospital, Harare (Arrest Jesus post) when I asked for my bag to get my makeup. I haven’t spoken to her since. She wished me happy birthday except it wasn’t mine. It was my son, Tay’s. She then sent me a voice note telling me her news that I didn’t ask for. How her kids are doing so well with being able to study in Australia. How her physio practice has expanded and how her husband – whose father prescribed me 60mg of Prednisolone – is so busy with his business as an architect that she hardly sees him. And I thought,
So I asked my GP to send me a list of all my hospital sections with the reasons for being detained and what diagnosis they have put for me on record. I ended the email with Freelance Journalist under my name. And got a phone call from Admin. The lady wasn’t sure what I meant by sections and then suggested I access my medical records on the NHS App, for which I had requested a while back but still wasn’t granted permission to. So she asked IT to follow up and now I can finally start asking questions.
Bournemouth Hospital. She was admitted on the 19 March 2016 after being evicted from a hotel where she had not paid her bill with acute psychosis and required detention under the Mental Health Act.
Conclusion – False report
Proof – bank statement, invoice from Premier Inn
Trump card – why was I charged three nights when I stayed two. And why is the third payment taken, not reflected on my invoice?
Further investigation – fill out form no. : SA1.1
I had a dream on the 19/2 that London was the capital, not of England more like a large hub. Then I saw in space, mostly rectangular shapes joined but in sections and then 3D lit lines extending from each section to London. I then saw Boris Johnson levitating, lying in the air on his back. And I saw the man who made him levitate and was surprised that it was possible for this man to have such power. When I woke I didn’t remember who I saw.
In December 2008 I left my home near Mafikeng, with my daughter to go to Media Village in Cape Town. I wanted to get equipped to write stories in Zimbabwe to show God was alive there as the people were suffering under the rule of Mugabe. I had to do a Disciple Training School first as a prerequisite to studying media. It was there that I learnt about human trafficking. I hadn’t even heard of it before that. We had to do campaign awareness in the community.
After the three months of school we had to do an outreach in Uganda. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to go on my own mission to Mozambique. My tutor, Kobus Mouton tried to convince me otherwise. He even personally drove me to the clinic to get the Yellow Fever vaccine. He was so fuming and driving so fast, I thought he was going to drive us off the cliff. And he sat right next to me to make sure I got it. And I still didn’t go to Uganda, I went to Mozambique with my daughter to drive John Wickes dilly instead.
I couldn’t continue with studying media as I hadn’t completed my course by not going to Uganda. So I stayed in Zimbabwe and just as I had begun my mission of showing the Jesus film in villages, I discovered I had a 14cm tumour on my thymus. I didn’t want chemotherapy which drove the haematologist, David Wrench crazy and I started taking Laetrile B17 tablets from a lady in the UK who was getting them from Mexico. As I started to detox, I noticed what looked like mercury or lead stuff in my mucus when I blew my nose. So now I’m wondering if that wasn’t from the adjuvant that they used in the vaccine which caused the autoimmune disease.
I think vaccines are the great signs the second beast performs causing ‘fire from heaven’ to deceive the nations. Revelation 13:13. I could get really angry about the trauma that vaccine caused me. I started therapy the other day with the sole purpose of telling my story to my therapist and then starting my own investigative journalism to find out why I was so badly treated when it wasn’t my fucking fault. After my first session I realised I’ve been looking at the outside story and not the inside story.
If I hadn’t had the vaccine, my childhood trauma would probably never have surfaced. So I began to think about my inside story being told around the first time I had a panic attack in March 2016. I think it’s so easy to be distracted by the events going on and not looking at the inside story unfolding.
In July 2017 I went to Victoria Falls for a holiday and then flew to the UK from Harare. My cousin drove me to the airport and on the way I reminded her of a vision I had in 2009 but she had forgotten. I think it was the first vision God had given me. It was a naked little black girl standing on a table in a warehouse and a Chinese man looking at her. I could feel exactly what she felt. Shy and innocent and afraid but trying to be brave. And as I told my cousin, I got a fright, like I wasn’t supposed to remember or mention it.
It’s amazing because in June 2020 I had a vision. I was about to travel and had to present my passport, I took it out but it wasn’t my passport. I opened it and clearly saw a woman’s passport photo, curly perhaps highlighted hair and clearly read her name which I would have remembered had I woken then. I closed the maroon passport and it had Peru written across in gold. So I thought that God wanted me to go to Peru.
At the time my client was knitting woollen hats for charity, to give to seafarers, but was getting bored of knitting and had thought she’d like to make small teddy bears, to sell at the market, to raise money for the Friends of the Stafford Children’s Centre in Jerusalem. So I started making pin cushion mice to raise money to help single mums on my expected ‘mission to Peru’. But because of lockdown and barring travel I gave up.
I posted two mice to South Africa, one to my cousin in Cape Town in September 2020 and one to my aunt in George, August 2020. My cousin’s mouse got sent to America instead and months later got returned back to me and my aunt’s mouse was unclaimed and sent back to customs and returned to me, a year and 4 months later. God is a brilliant storyteller. I guess she was tracked by His Holy Angels.
I’ve started tracking on my world map, all the countries that use the 4 main COVID jabs, using red stickers to mark them and then those countries that have mandates, have the red circle stickers with a green ¼ circle on them. And Europe is starting to look like a Christmas tree.
A few days ago, on the 19th December, God said, ‘blue fly’. Then the next morning just before waking I had a vision of a shiny blue vector drawing of an apple, like the Apple one except the bite was on the left. And there was a shiny blue bevelled star on top of the apple to the left. Then the next day God said again, ‘blue fly’. And later pathogens. And when I was wondering about the star, he said, ‘4 star’.
The beast (whose one head, Europe after WWI, was mortally wounded and healed) was given a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies, and given authority to continue for 42 months. Revelation 13 : 5,7. It was granted to him to make war with the saints and to overcome them. It started from barring the Jews from schools, cinemas, theatres, then making no enter zones and then transporting them to death camps. They were the brave ones, who were set apart and bear testimony to all of us when the marks are going to start. I can’t believe the Jews had to go through the most evil cruelty. How much worse will it be for those that are tattooed for hell. Day and night, never ending.
The image of the first beast spoken by the second beast is to act as the protector for the citizens. During Nero’s (666 in Hebrew) time, the Corona Civica was given to those who protected citizens. A country takes the mark of the beast by agreeing to be under it’s authority or even identifying and being of one mind with the beast. And then you can trade. It’s a cover of subtle control for the dragon who wants complete control. It’s a difficult balance because to gain complete control of citizens using a mask like a lamb at some stage you going to have to speak like a dragon. Dictators have ruined countries by sidestepping the beast and acting alone.
So if you go along with the narrative of using protection as a cover to have absolute control of your citizens, you’re being marked. One by one. You can’t see it when it’s put on you. Labelled for your father’s camp. And we have to be patient and watch this going on. While you’re selecting us by who wants your shot, who will have it anyway and who won’t, we’re just the waters (Revelation 17:15) to set you all up. This is the selection for all of you to get your marks. So who wants it? Who will have it anyway? And who will refuse? But can you hurry too so this will all be over. The more you move the goal posts for us, the further your goal posts move too. So choose how low you are prepared to go to receive your mark. Game over.
The dragon well knows his days are numbered and he’s leading you right to his doorstep. You can’t take the mark off, it’s there for eternity. It’s your trademark for your trade off. So whatever you’re planning for us, it’s for you, for eternity. What Haman planned for the Jews was turned on him. And he was hung on the very gallows he built for Mordecai. God is not mentioned in the book of Esther because He was right inside. The Jews were full of fear by hearing Haman’s plot. But when the king interceded, they then had victory over their enemies, who then feared them. God isn’t mentioned now either because He is right on the inside. At the tipping point our King will most certainly intercede for us. And I know this because the pandemic was announced on the 11th March 2020 when Purim was being celebrated in Jerusalem. I was there, it was my birthday.
For God has put it into their hearts to fulfil His purpose, to be of one mind, and to give their kingdom to the beast, until the words of God are fulfilled. Revelation 17 : 13. The economy (10 kings) has power for an hour with the beast and makes war with the Lamb, and the Lamb will overcome them, for He is the Lord of Lords and King of Kings. The economy will turn on the great city, making her naked and desolate. Financial currency (7 kings), 5 were 1 is, the symbol is an S with a stroke through. The 7 will come together with the 8 which is the beast, the symbol being a B with two strokes through. And will only be here for a short time.
So Haman take off your mask and reveal yourself so you can be taken downstairs to your father’s house.
On the 23 September 2021, I had a dream that I had opened the fridge and inside was a big piece of meat. When I stepped closer I saw that it had a cloth over it, so I lifted it and it was a sheep’s head with all the flesh exposed. There was a big chunk missing on the left side which was significant.
I was then outside a brick building, like a factory and my parents were sitting outside. I told my mother what I found in the fridge and she said something to my father and they both snickered. They both seemed different, I could sense they were like demons. Then my father spoke to me but I couldn’t understand except I felt like I was being hypnotised.
When all of a sudden I woke up and had a vision, I saw the sky outside my bedroom window lit up with lightning bolts flashing across the sky from the east and west. I felt exhilarated but knew for a lot of people it would be most terrifying. I was excited and relieved because I could sense Yeshua was fed up and He was coming to fight for me. I could feel the floor shaking and I could hear the earth rumbling. I could also hear explosions in the distance, like a battle going on.
A father left his children with a farmer and his wife until such time that He returned for war. The farm was in a lot of debt and the bank was threatening to take it, unless the farmer paid up. The children worked really hard to keep the farm going.
One day the bank manager came to speak to the farmer and told him about the image that would relieve him of all his stress. It went something like this,
‘Santa Clause is real and he has given me a vision, to join all the farms together and make them into one kingdom. He will come and live with us and bring his elves who will do all the work for us. But only the chosen farmers will be able to live in the palace and be rewarded with a pot of copper coins, for looking after the children so well. They would have the freedom of the kingdom and not have to worry about the children anymore, as they would be well cared for in one big house.’
Then a plague came and the bank manager said ‘this is the sign from Santa to get moving’. The farmer was told to stop working his farm and to keep the children indoors until the plague passed.
The farmer was anxious as his debts were accruing. And the plague was still around.
Then apples were offered at a price. The older children were to be offered two bites to protect them from the plague and then all would be well and they could leave the house again.
So the farm stood still while each one made up their minds who wanted it, who would have it anyway and who wouldn’t.
Whilst this was going on the bank manager sent word that the younger children needed to be offered the apple too as the plague hadn’t left.
And then the bank manager added that actually two bites is not enough, maybe start from the top again, offering a third. And then he changed it again and said postpone it and rather take out a loan to buy apples for the poorer farms first. And perhaps we need to offer the babies too.
Then the farmer got fed up and spoke to his wife about one of the children who wouldn’t take the bite. He threatened his wife that if she couldn’t force the child, he would abandon her and how would she survive.
So the wife rushed off to speak to the girl,
Wife : Bite this apple twice and you’ll be protected’.
Girl : ‘Sis! That’s not an apple’.
Wife: ‘Yes it is! ‘
Girl : It’s purple and it’s got a worm in it!’ ‘ Who grew it? It’s disgusting!’
Wife : ‘Just close your eyes and take a bite.’
Girl : ‘Sis!’ ‘If I catch the plague, why can’t I have a naartjie instead?’
Wife : ‘Naartjies don’t work’.
Girl : ‘Well Johnny’s brother gave him one when he was sick and he got better.’
Wife : ‘Well the farmer is not agreeing!’
Wife : ‘The farmer will buy you an ice cream.’
Wife : ‘Your brother bit it and he’s fine and he’s got the pass to go on a holiday with us but you’ll have to stay behind.’
Girl : ‘Well Lucy bit it and she had a heart attack!’
Wife: ‘Oh just ignore that!!’
Wife : ‘You know we’ve had to stop working the farm and the farmer has had to take a loan to keep us alive. Take a bite and this will all be over’.
Then the farmer came to speak to the girl alone, and shared the vision of Santa Clause coming to live with them, and the pot of copper coins he would be rewarded for protecting them so well from the plague. And they wouldn’t need to work the farm anymore because Santa’s elves would do it all for them. And bring presents to their doorstep.
Girl : ‘You’re kidding? Whose been feeding you all this crap!? So what do I do all day?’
Farmer : ‘You can watch movies all day and all night, do I care?’
Girl : ‘When the the sun comes out and the snowman melts, and your coins go ‘poof’, you’re left with a carrot and two sticks, hey.’
Farmer : ‘One of us is going to have to leave this farm because you’re going to give me a heart attack!!’
On your marks….
I had a vision on the 19/9, it was quick. I saw the side view of a naked woman in space, lying on her back. She had brown skin and dark wavy hair. And I knew she was the harlot spoken about in Revelation. And gravitating towards her were blocks each in a primary colour. Blue being the one that stood out the most.
In April I wasn’t allowed to go to a job because I hadn’t had the mRNA substance injected into me to trick my immune system to make the spike protein. The rejection made me feel like ‘I was the virus’. But since my parents both had their second dose of the Pfizer, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have been shielding from them, since I had all their symptoms for a day or two.
My mum then went into hospital for four days with heart problems although she’s never had any health problems before. She is now on prescribed drugs for the first time.
I’ve been working at a job I’ve been to regularly, even during the lockdown last year. And they’ve assured me that they are being careful so as not to catch the virus and infect me even though they’ve had the jab.
I’ve only known two people who’ve had the virus, both in SA. They felt unwell for a few days. I sympathise with those that can’t breathe. I’ve had pleural effusion where I struggled to breathe until I had three litres tapped off my lungs. And I’ve had anaphylaxis which is really scary too.
I just think the best way forward is not to coerce anyone who chooses to rely on their God given immunity; or force anyone to put their trust in pharmaceutical companies who think they are god, and that YHWH, the only God Almighty, forgot to include the ability for our cells to make shape shifters.
We should instead be able to travel exclusively. Separate departure lounges and private planes. And destinations. And if we get the virus, stay in bed and take worm muti. And if they don’t want us to shop together, then we could have separate shopping malls. And new workplaces for creative jobs. We could even swap countries, who cares as long as it’s fair. And as long as Yeshua plays the game too. Remember He said He wasn’t going to go to the market and then He showed up. ‘Chips-chips’.
When I went through the portal late 2017, to the ‘other side’, not by lying in a coffin for three days or anything, I just went. And flew to Victoria Falls from Nairobi. On disembarking, we walked across the tarmac and entered directly into immigration.
A white man, who I think was an angel, just from his type, came from behind me and went to the left through what looked like a metal detector archway and around. For some reason I sensed I was to follow him, but didn’t. I never watched to see the rest of his route. I stood behind a few Chinese tourists at the immigration desk when a black man in a white suit, who seemed like an angel too, came up to the officer and spoke to him. The officer then asked the people he was dealing with to step aside and let me come forward to stamp my passport and let me through.
I waited for my suitcase and then went through security and was the only passenger left in the airport. There were two black men working there and a few white men further away watching me. And there were no cars or buses or taxis. So one of the workers called one for me. And while waiting, a large group of immigration and other staff came marching out as if they were doing a ‘walk out’. They said something to me because they said my name. But when you go up the Far Away Tree through the cloud into some strange land, you just want to pretend you haven’t noticed. And Victoria Falls was so bleak and empty. I had been there twice that year when it was buzzing. This was just weird. And I didn’t know how to get out.
I decided the only option for me was to be shot by a sniper. Preferably an Israeli because they are the best shots. I came up with this idea after my mum arrived just after the coup and told me that Moyo’s bodyguard was sniped by an Israeli, although I couldn’t find any report on it. So when my mum insisted I should go with her to the UK and I was still in Never Never land, I continued with the sole purpose of getting taken out. I was in an area of farms and no life. Not a soul. But if a helicopter flew over, I would shoot it with my camera to show them I can see them, so shoot me.
One day I was standing on a stile, shooting a landscape when a man suddenly came up to me, calling me, ‘Abbey! Abbey!’. I sensed to ignore him and kept looking straight ahead. So he left. And to my right I heard an angel calmly say ‘well done.’ Yes angels speak! It’s amazing that God gave them that ability too. I turned around to leave and on the side of the road, was half a man on his knees, sort of manoeuvring and the front half looked like a Rottweiler. So I marched up the road and stood by another farm gate that looked over a field and the next minute a C-130 came flying low towards me. So I snapped away. But it passed on by.
I then walked passed a farm entrance and a short haired border collie came dashing out, so excited to see me. She was racing ahead of me, then turning around rushing back to me, playfully. I crossed over the road. And she stayed behind. I didn’t blame her because I also sensed that was a ‘witchy’ area.
On my return, a lady had stopped in her car and was holding the dog by it’s collar. She asked me if I knew whose dog it was, as it looked scared and was sitting on the side of the road shaking. I said I know where it lives and I’ll take it back. So off we went when another lady stopped her car, and said she’d seen a Rottweiler and Staffordshire and do I know whose they belong to! Perhaps I was in ‘the land of the witches’ and certainly didn’t let her know that I had seen a shapeshifting Rottweiler. I just said no and that I was taking this dog home.
As I was turning into the farm, the dog grabbed the bottom of my jeans and tugged me away. So I continued walking for quite a way when eventually it sat on the side of the road and let me continue alone. I’ve never seen her again. There is one there who I had seen prior but it’s different looking and unfriendly.
In mid April I had a dream/vision just before I woke up. I heard the words, ‘I ask the questions’ and then I clearly saw four numbers 6833. Each number was on its own rectangular strip. Either on a black strip or white strip. The black and white was significant and the tone of the voice wasn’t one I recognised. It could have been that it was spoken in authority.
Nine days later, just before waking up, I heard, ‘Ezekiel to ask questions’. And three days after that, again just before waking, I heard, ‘I still ask the questions’.
Now back in 2016 I was in a hotel in London and a message popped up on the television screen, ‘Tell us your pin, we need to know you’re with us’, the message then flashed off and four dashes were left. So I phoned reception and asked what my pin was. I was told I don’t need one and to just put in four 0’s. Which I did and it left the screen.
I lost a job yesterday. I’m not jabbed. It happened right after God came through for my daughter. Finding her a cute cottage to stay in which I had committed to pay monthly for. I could have paid her rent for six months after working two weeks in my job.
I also had my flight to Victoria Falls for near the end of May messed up due to flights being put on hold. I could change it but would have to pay a 50% fee to change my hotel.
I’m not being stubborn about the vaccine – I just have a drug intolerance. And since the vaccine is to protect a person from going to hospital very ill with the virus then why should anyone care whether I’m not protected. Surely a vaccinated person can get the virus and transmit it to another vaccinated person. Just like if you got the flu vaccine. When I kept refusing chemotherapy – the haematologist in London eventually told me to ‘go north of the river’. Well maybe now I could be sent south of the Zambezi.
And I could get a place to rent and gather my granny’s furniture which is spread around Victoria Falls. And then I’d work on my own as a Graphic Designer. Maybe have a magazine proclaiming ‘God is Alive in Zimbabwe’. And I’d change a village.
I had another dream/vision a few weeks ago. I first saw a fox, then a pheasant and then an all white eagle trying hard to take flight off the ground except as it was flapping it’s wings – it’s feathers were falling out.
I’ve started a Graphic Design course to promote YESHUA. I’m taking Him on as my client to be His publicist. As I realise He has had bad publicity in that He has been portrayed as a guy in a white robe who holds up three fingers. And has a tiara of stars above his head.
But I’ve seen Him. He was wearing a suit! So if you picture Him in a suit then just perhaps you would realise that He is alive and modern and with the times. So He must live somewhere to have a suit made for Him. Obviously! And since He is real and God, He must have more personality than anyone on this planet. Captivating! I promise you!
He has a greater army than any army on earth – Legions and legions of angels. Way, way more than there are people in this world. Therefore He rules. And since He is alive – He must eat food, drink liquids, sleep on a bed, breathe fresh air. Wash in a bath, shave, comb his hair – which is gorgeous by the way and He is the most handsome. He lived on earth and did all these things. He’s not a figurine, clearly. We are not more special, that we do all these things and He sits somewhere like a doll with no needs. Oh please! And He went home to be with His father. So He must be living somewhere which is way more magnificent than where we are. He has told us how beautiful His Kingdom is. Streets made of gold. He said He is coming back, so He isn’t ignorant of this world. He must have a purpose and agenda which He tends to ongoing. He knows exactly whose who and whose doing what. And what’s going to happen.
He is extremely powerful. He just needs to speak to smite. He is fiercely protective so He has a beautiful heart. He has a great sense of humour. And He is cunning. So He must have a mind. He is a warrior King – sovereign over all and if you don’t fear Him then you should tread lightly as on eggshells. These are the last days. Read Joel in the bible, it will make you aware to beware.
He gave me a vision the other day which was a bluish grey bird (He told me it was a miner) lying face down on the back of an envelope with it’s wings spread out. Except the envelope looked like calico material, I first thought it was a folded flag but not sure. The envelope had splattered blood on which was a pale red, like it had been absorbed. I think it looked dry but not certain.
God made the earth to plant His seeds which grew into wheat. Satan – the enemy planted his seeds in amongst them which grew into chaff. At the time of the harvest the angels will take out the chaff first and throw them into the fire. Then the wheat will remain until the farmer returns. Matthew 13 : 12 – 30
Satan is the deceiver – the father of lies. He came to steal – kill and destroy. Satan has deceived those who do his will. He is the opposite to God – he hates his children. His children are like him – they deceive the world. And steal – kill and destroy lives.
I’m not sure what Satan tells his children to make them steal – kill and destroy. It must have something to do with power and wealth. Maybe the ones who have profited the most think they will one day rule the whole world. But that can’t be since the chaff will be thrown into the fire before the Antichrist takes centre stage to try deceive the wheat and then the wheat will be harvested.
The mystery of lawlessness. Paul knew about it – it was the thorn in his flesh. It is the thorn in mine too. Yeshua knew about it too, He told His disciples that He still has many things to tell them but they cannot bear them now. But when the Spirit of Truth comes He will tell of what is yet to come. John 16 : 12 – 13
It really started in September 2017. One day I walked out of Dolce Crema, a coffee shop in Barnes and headed up White Hart Lane, when the power of the Holy Spirit came upon me. That made me step aside to let a man pass. I was intrigued why that happened so I followed him. Thinking he must be an angel except that he had bandy legs. He was striding along carrying a brief case and as he passed Annie’s restaurant he put out his hand to brush over the plants and looked up to the clouds. Which is just what I did every time! I became even more curious so I followed him across the road and just before the rail line he looked like he was going to turn left up the road but turned to see me then continued over the line. I lost sight of him but heard a door slam shut.
The next day I went with my client for his check up at a hospital. His daughter dropped us at the entrance and went to park the car and while we were waiting near the reception, he said he wonders if she’s lost and then looked at me, smiling and said ‘up the M25!’. I got a shock because I did that a few years back when I was driving Douglas Hurd except that I had never told my client the story. Then while I was waiting with him in the ward, a message flashed on my cellphone screen. I’d never seen that happen before and didn’t read it but when we were getting in the car a man walked passed me and said, ‘I know you saw the message Kim’.
My client’s son and step brother had come to stay, from France and Australia. I just knew something wasn’t right. The things they were saying and how they were acting. I packed my rucksack that night just incase. Late in the night I woke to hear a strange murmuring sound. The next morning I went into my client’s room and he sat up with dry blood which came from a scab on his head and down the side of his face. He was acting odd and smiling. His skin looked slightly grey like he was dead but alive. And then I heard a loud voice saying ‘You should see the other two’. And that was my call to get out.
I walked so fast towards White Hart Lane and just before the rail line a man was striding along ‘pushing a pram’ which reassured me and as I stepped over the rail line I felt safe but not enough to stop.
It was like I had entered into a mysterious world. The street was empty. I went to the Dolce Crema and sat down with a latte and facing me was a man sitting two tables down.
I didn’t know at the time but I was being led by the Lord. Most of the time I was following the wrong clues. I left the coffee shop but soon realised I was misled and turned around to see the man who was in the coffee shop turning up 2nd avenue. So I went to follow him but when I turned up the road he was gone. I could smell a strong scent of lavender which I took as a clue that I was on the right track. I turned right at the end of the road and stopped outside a house when a lady came out. She was short and elderly but looked different like a character from an Enid Blyton book. The house next door had a racing bike with a kryptonite lock on and a box of Naked wine outside the door. I went into the small gate and knocked. Not sure why I was led there or what I would say if anyone answered. I sat on the low wall. Reading Isaiah.
Eventually a couple with a little girl came out from the house to the left. They were so sweet to me. They had curly hair like angelic hippies. I asked them if they knew where he was and they said they don’t think he stayed last night but phone him. I sat on his doorstep and continued reading Isaiah.
A postman came to put his mail through the door. He looked gnome like. Then the family next door came out where I had first seen the elderly lady leave. An Asian couple with their son. They spoke a foreign language. They were suspicious of me. And the father seemed a bit nervous leaving his gate – looking right and left up the street before leaving. I opened a bottle of wine – took a swig and left.
I went passed Rick Stein’s restaurant which was buzzing with the chatter of smartly dressed men standing outside having drinks. And ended up back at the Dolce Crema for another latte. It was full this time and sitting at a table outside the door, was a tall man with dark hair, drinking a green vegetable juice, smoking and he had a border collie with him. He kept looking around at me. I stood up – and so did he. Except that I was standing to get another latte, so he sat down again. Then across the road – I saw a man on a bicycle with a few curly haired little girls running alongside him and a border collie. So I left thinking they were my next clue. He was now sitting on a bench outside the White Hart pub. I sat on the steps behind him. He had curly brown hair with a tattoo on his left bicep. His accent was more like South African but I can’t be sure. The little girls, again who looked angelic, walked up the steps to the pub terrace smiling sweetly at me. Their dog came running up to greet me. I went into the pub for lunch. During my meal I went upstairs to the loo. I was going to peep into a room but then saw a pair of legs sticking out. Scruffy black pants and black shoes and heard ‘Satan!’ I got such a fright and finished my lunch and left.
I walked over the bridge and kept walking not knowing where to go. A message flashed on my phone – Tell us what you like – So I typed in Intimacy – meaning with Yeshua. I caught a train – the gates were open at the station I got off at so I didn’t pay. It was dark and still looking for clues – I followed a guy with Titleist golf clubs – got on a bus but the driver said I had to pay. So I got off. Then a man – like an angel – I can tell them apart – gestured towards a cab by raising his right arm slightly sideways. So I got in but didn’t know where to say I needed to go and got out. Then caught another train. I followed another angelic hippie looking couple into an under cover parking and asked them where I could find a musician because I remembered a vision I had before. They said go and ask the lady who is standing by the ticket machine. So I asked a lady standing there and she told me where to go and gave me a £5 note.
I went into the pub and there was the most incredible voice singing – live – but I couldn’t see the musician. The stage was empty. A group welcomed me over and bought me a draught. I sat down and they were dancing next to the table.
I then went next door to McDonalds and had a coffee and while sitting there the postman who I saw in Barnes came in. So I left. And walked off into a quite suburb. It was so scary but God kept telling me ‘Do not fear’. I then came to a house with a tall black steel gate and sat outside on the pavement. It was late into the night but a newspaper man arrived and put one through the gate and told me it’s normally delivered in morning. I tried to read the headlines and left.
I was really worrying because I didn’t know where to sleep but the next thing I knew it was morning and I was in an Industrial site. Must have been like Philip in Acts 8 : 39 because I have no explanation for what happened in between. The power of the Holy Spirit came upon me and I opened my bible to Luke 9 : 23 – 27 and read – repeatedly while stepping onto a street – down the middle and crossed over onto a pavement. A white van pulled up and police jumped out and pushed me to the ground and handcuffed me. I immediately went into a state of disassociation from the shock – like an impala caught by a predator. They put me in the van and took me to hospital.
I was in a bed for a while and then taken to a holding room to sit on a couch handcuffed for hours. There was a male and female police officer with me. The male looked like the one in the pub who had bought me the draught. He was dancing like he did the night before.
A security guard came in with a few observers and pulled me briskly by my ankles onto the floor – so I kicked him. Then they put me back up on the sofa. Then a doctor came who looked like a psychopath and I was taken out in a wheelchair across a car park in the dark. (I’m not sure where they took me from there because I have no recollection – I think they injected me as the next day I was so drugged and had an electrode on my shoulder blade).
I arrived at midnight at the Lakeside mental health hospital. And spent the night on the floor outside reception. The first patient I saw during the night looked like a demon walking towards me. She was old but had a swollen tummy – like she was pregnant. And then another – just the same. And a third looked like a woman or a man – I couldn’t tell. I literally thought I was in hell. I fell asleep on the floor. I had to ask to ask for a bed the next night. And this is the NHS that people raise money and clap for. What was my crime? They had written in the report that they found me in a shopping centre – barefoot and disoriented! Why the lie?
The next day I went to get my blood taken. The nurse couldn’t get any out – this has been a struggle since having chemotherapy. And the support worker said – ‘You’re one of us, Kim’ and I looked away and there were NHS pamphlets in a display on the wall with a blue figure on and I thought ‘Oh flip – I’m an alien’. Fortunately a doctor came to take my blood. The mean support worker was there too trying to take my stats but reading them wrong. So I corrected her and the doctor whispered – ‘Shhh Kim, paradise awaits you’.
Angels came to my rescue soon after – I’ve written about it before. They’re even smoother than Mossad. The day I made an oil lamp at pottery was the day I was let out. Driven in a black Mercedes with health bars and snacks and flavoured water. Which reminded me of the time I was in hospital the year before due to the reaction I had to the neurotoxin – Prednisolone. I was staying in the cancer ward and one evening two nurses asked me if I needed anything. And I told them jokingly I would like a coke – Snicker and Salt and Vinegar chips. At about 1.30am I rang the bell for them to help me and they arrived with my snacks. I asked them where they got them from – they were quite shocked – and said they found them at the door.
The Mercedes took me to St Ann’s hospital in Poole which was like a hotel in comparison. And I wanted to stay. I told the psychiatrist my experience was like I was in something out of Divergent. He laughed and said everything is normal outside. I left after two days and it did seem like the real world again. But only for a week. Then while staying at The Royal Hotel in Bournemouth I went out to buy toiletries from Boots on the shopping parade – as I was leaving for Victoria Falls – and everything had changed again. There were few people around – airy and gloomy. And that was the theme for the 40 weeks of my encounter with the Spirit World. Either few people around or people walking in droves. And like people had to stay in zones except that I could go everywhere. And once I went into the Brass House in Bournemouth and whilst standing at the counter to order, I looked over at the television and it was the most brutal scene of police violence. It looked like London but I’m not sure – somewhere with steps and pillars. I can’t remember if they were using batons or shooting. But I was so shocked and looked away. But look today.
My experience might have been a combination of the model of the world’s system which isn’t biblical and therefore will never be versus the tribulation which is written. Yeshua went through it in the desert for 40 days. I could write a book about all my experiences which lasted 40 long weeks. From the day it started up until my birthday next year 2021 it will be exactly three and a half years.
In October I went back to Barnes to work. The Dolce Crema has changed. In April this year they moved the counter from the right side and built it on the left in front of the door. Annie’s restaurant is no longer there. It closed in August last year and is now a Thai restaurant.
I wonder a lot about the spirit world and in 2018 I was looking on the internet and found this almost straight away –
Ancient Greek for pharmacy means witch or witchcraft. The root meaning is poison.
Once upon a time a little girl was so badly traumatised. A spell was put over her mind to block the memory. The King from a faraway land heard what had been done to her and came to her in secret. He found her hiding behind a rock in the corner of her garden. When she saw Him approaching she ran to Him and He took her up in His arms and kissed her and her heart was set free from the fear.
The good witch couldn’t understand how the little girl continued to blossom. She spoke to the girl’s father which made him hate the little girl and keep her under submission. The good witch waited for her trauma to manifest to give the little girl the poisonous apple. But it never did.
The crocodile kept reminding the good witch that if the little girl doesn’t bite the apple the rock will be lifted and the witch’s true identity would be revealed. And the good witch worried that the little girl would remember what happened to her. So the good witch and her father continued with their craft. The worst was when they were mean to her two ponies whom she loved with all her heart. And eventually resentment grew inside the little girl and she became very ill. But she refused to take any poison for it.
The crocodile had had enough and tricked her to bite the apple by using a doctor to give her a sweet to make her better. The witch took her away to a foreign land and kept giving her the sweets. But it was poison and altered her brain. She couldn’t walk – or speak or think clearly. At the same time she found out that the witch secretly got rid of her ponies and her heart was broken too.
And then the crocodile came out from his den to snap at her. And she ran away and hid. A huntsman was sent to find her. She told him about the poisonous sweets she was given. But instead of protecting her the huntsman tied her hands together so tight that she screamed but he ignored her. And she was locked away and given poison that the big bad witch had made to keep her spellbound. But the little girl survived.
She was chased away from her land and into the secret woods. Where foreign folk are. She was afraid the crocodile would find her there so she ran in search of her King. The huntsmen found her walking along the path and threw her to the ground and tied her hands. She was taken prisoner once more and locked away. Her King sent in His men to rescue her.
Then she ran as far away that she could. And again she was locked away. The witch came to her. As well as her two ponies. But her ponies weren’t the same. They didn’t let her ride them or let her groom them.
The witch was furious to find out that the little girl was not taking the poison from the big bad witch and the ponies were blocking her until she did. So the witch called a doctor to inject her with poison. And she was locked away in her room.
After two days of being in lockdown the little girl said she would take the poison and was allowed to go out to play. But she became so ill that her body collapsed in shock. And she was taken back to her room to be locked away.
The witch took her back to the foreign land where the little girl kept getting caught by the huntsmen and locked away.
And she saw a few pony tricks along the way.
I think what the little girl was trying to say was this –
‘She doesn’t want your fucking poison!’
And when she screamed she was trying to say –
‘Your fucking handcuffs were too tight!’
You would think this was war.
Yeshua has told me to give you a message,
Micah 5 : 12 – 15
10-15 “The day is coming” —God’s Decree— “When there will be no more war. None. I’ll slaughter your war horses and demolish your chariots. I’ll dismantle military posts and level your fortifications. I’ll abolish your religious black markets, your underworld traffic in black magic. I will smash your carved and cast gods and chop down your phallic posts. No more taking control of the world, worshiping what you do or make. I’ll root out your sacred sex-and-power centers and destroy the God-defiant. In raging anger, I’ll make a clean sweep of godless nations who haven’t listened.”
Have you ever seen a bee hive disturbed. The working bees go in a frenzy stinging everything in sight.
The lion carcass is the system
The hive is the global economy
The queen bee is the deceiver
The drones are the secret societies
The working bees are the corrupt governments
The flowers are the citizens
The honey is money
And all this time the drones and working bees have been feeding a dead lion.
In the hope that they will have a new beautiful garden for their own one day with lots of pretty flowers all to themselves.
There is a fake lion about to be revealed. But all the drones, working bees and weeds who have received the third eye in their forehead or made an oath with their right hand to the queen bee won’t be here. They’ve already been deceived.
The Lion of Judah is coming soon to pick His wild flowers out from the garden and take them to His kingdom. The rest of the flowers that say they believe in His father will need to be tested first when the fake lion appears.
But right now the Lion of Judah is about to explode. You can’t contain His wrath. He’s seen how the drones and working bees have exploited His flowers. Stealing them, selling them, uprooting them to foreign soil, surrounding them with weeds to strangle them or keeping them locked indoors in pots. When they were meant to grow wild and free for His pleasure alone. For Himself to water and feed.
Now listen carefully your lion is dead – it’s a system. The queen bee is laughing at you. You’ve all been fooled. For the taste of honey – you’ve chosen to spend eternity with the queen bee who has none.
The Lion of Judah is alive. He has the authority and power over every king, ruler, judge and system on this planet.
I was lying on my bed in my hotel room in Tel Aviv on the 20th March contemplating the symptoms of the Corona virus. When I suddenly had a gut instinct that perhaps the reason the people are dying is because their body is producing histamine which causes inflammation which then narrows the airways.
And therefore the treatment should include an ANTIHISTAMINE. And in the case of anaphylaxis, EPINEPHRINE.
Just the same way as someone can get stung by a bee and only swell in that area but then another person gets stung and peptides dock onto the antibodies so the body releases histamine which causes inflammation which then blocks the airways.
When I had chemotherapy in 2016 at Bournemouth hospital I had an allergic reaction to the drug and couldn’t breathe and was given an antihistamine.
Anyway in Tel Aviv the next day I was tanning on the beach when I felt something on my back and reached behind to grab it off and squashed a bee between my fingers by it’s wings. It buzzed around on the sand for a bit with it’s insides covered in sand and then died.
So I thought perhaps this was a sign from Yeshua that I was on the right track.
You can’t own her
She’s been bought for a high price
By her King
You tried to break her
Locked her away to throw away the key
But she is free
She has a Redeemer
You left her penniless
But she is rich
She has a Provider
You can’t trick a mother
She knows her cubs intimately
They are like her
You taunted her on the other side with your ‘who are we’ 5G creatures
She’s smelt your groups of rotten lemons, dead rats, old person’s urine, cat’s wee and foul sweat. She’s seen you change from hu man to Rottweiler
Seen you appear from nowhere
Seen you shape shift to reptilian
Heard your Ravens
Heard you on TV
Must I go on
You seem desperate to be known
With your films and music
So there is ‘the other side’
And underneath your shell you are really ugly
Why keep it a secret
Or are you restrained by the One who has power over you
If Yeshua walked through Rome
Would He go to St Peters Square and hear the pope
Would He walk over St Angelo bridge and rejoice at the sight of the angels
Would He go along with the droves on a forced pilgrimage
Would He enter the temples
Would He stroll through the piazzas and marvel at the naked statues
And study the symbols
And wonder at the virgin idol
Would He visit the Vatican and view the art
Would He go to the ancient ruins knowing it’s cruel history
Would He look up at the obelisks and study the hieroglyphics
Or would He feel mocked
Of course not!
He can’t be mocked
Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will reap.
In November I flew with Kenya Airways to Nairobi from London.
The last time I flew this airline was in October 2017 from London to Victoria Falls via Nairobi. They didn’t serve drinks nor food on that flight. There were no movies to watch. Just slide shows of woman changing into panthers or whatever. I think they use scrapped planes on the other side.
This time I stayed in Kenya. I checked through immigration in Nairobi with an officer who thought I looked Kenyan. I told him I spoke Swahili.
I flew onto Mombasa and checked in early at the Voyager Hotel and whilst waiting for my room to be ready I went for a swim. And met Nixon on the beach who was selling day trips to snorkel and see dolphins. And eat seafood on an island. And Dida came up to me to offer me a massage at her beach shack. I told her I would like my toe nails to be painted instead.
The following day Nixon met me on the beach to escort me to have my pedicure. He is a Rastafarian but without the dreads. He later became known as my bodyguard. We walked along the beach and around the rocks with tiger crabs (which make you go deaf if you eat them). I met a man carving wood into key holders and asked him if he could make me one in the shape of Zimbabwe with my name in the middle.
Dida’s beach shack is made out of reeds from coconut palms. She was inside giving a massage. So Miriam laid wood on the sand and lit a fire to heat water in a pot to soak my feet. Nixon and I sat on tree trunks around a low table with a colourful mosaic tiled top which drooped in the middle. I stood up and hit my toe on the tree trunk and broke my baby toe. Nixon jumped up to assess it while I rested my foot carefully on the cracked table. Miriam left the fire to massage it with oil. So the fire went out and she had to light it again.
We waited some more and watched a hermit crab in a shell crawling over the frying pan which rested against the tree. Nixon joked that it wanted to be cooked. I sat smoking a cigar while we discussed where we go when we die. And Nixon told me about his Jewish friend he used to source charcoal for to export to Israel. And who would take him to the synagogue and who he learnt to speak Hebrew from. Until 2002 when terrorists blew up an Israeli-owned hotel in Mombasa and his friend left.
The water boiled and Miriam poured it into a large blue plastic dish on the sand. We moved to plastic chairs under the scooping reed porch held up by sticks. She held each of my feet over the sand – splashing the sand off before soaking them. Then removed my nail polish and scrubbed my toes with an old tooth brush. I sat quietly while she massaged my foot on her lap and watched the tooth brush swirling around in the plastic dish. Nixon asked me why I was quiet and I told him that I was relaxed. I gave Miriam my pink nail polish to paint my toes and she suggested I come back for a full body massage.
The following day Nixon was waiting to escort me for my afternoon massage but first I had to clear my case with the hotel duty manager as I got into trouble earlier by a man from the KWS for swimming in the sea with my snorkel and goggles. I was supposed to pay for seeing creatures in the sea. I told him there aren’t any and he told the pool attendant at the infinity pool that I was going to be arrested. It turned out that he was new and the marine park is two kilometres away.
The rectangular shack is just big enough for four beds at each corner. It’s open plan with no curtains and the floors are kept sand. Before I arrived I asked God to make sure my dignity was kept. There were two Dutch men being massaged on the two end beds which I was hesitantly brave about because I had my bikini on. Miriam poured oil on my leg and then briskly whipped up one side of my bikini bottom and walked off to close the bottom half of the stable door leaving my right cheek exposed.
My body was stiff as she massaged my leg and I was trying to imagine if there was any way the two Dutch men could see me. If they tilted their heads up the ladies giving them their massage would see. But if they moved their eye balls up they might. So I practised staring up and outside the stable door towards the sea and quickly pulled my bikini bottom down.
And relaxed for most of the next hour before I started calculating that if my pedicure was KS1 800 then I must have heard Miriam wrong when she told me the day before that it would be KS1 000 for a full body massage and that maybe it was KS10 000. And wished I had never come. I was so relieved that it was the equivalent of US$10 that I booked again for when I returned the next week from Masai Mara.
I caught a flight in a light aircraft from Mombasa to Masai Mara. For the first leg of the journey I was alone with the pilot. Who asked me if I was a billionaire from Zimbabwe. We landed at Ukunda airport to pick up six more passengers and then landed at Malindi airport to pick up an additional two. I got out the plane to find the pilot because I was hungry and hadn’t had breakfast. He walked across with me to the airport to buy chips and asked me if I would like to fly with him in the cockpit.
For the rest of the flight I flew in the cockpit as ‘Co-pilot’. I kept quiet the whole way not to distract him. Only occasionally offering him sweets. I sat staring at the instruments wondering how he sees where he is going as the dash is so high. And thinking he might be bored because he only has to keep the steering straight. I tried to work out all the instruments and hoped that my iPhone and iPad under my seat weren’t effecting them as they weren’t on flight mode. I took photos of clouds and Mount Kilimanjaro with a snow cap.
We landed at Olkiombo air strip and I had nobody to meet me. My camp got it mixed up. Four Americans were to arrive later as they missed their flight the day before and I got dropped off by their guide at a nearby camp to wait for a guide to collect me.
Chasing buffalo off the air strip
I stayed in a luxury tent on the Mara River. There was a thunderstorm on my first night, the first for the season. I lay in my four poster bed covered with a mosquito net listening to the thunder and lightning. I woke up to the sound of grunting hippo. Photos of my trip are on my Kenya – Masai Mara post.
Both times I went on a game drive I went alone with a Maasai guide in a jeep with open sides. We stopped alongside lion, cheetah and elephant which were only a few metres from us. We saw mating black rhino and my guide who had been in the area for 25 years had never seen that before and said I had brought him good luck. I think I caught the equivalent of the Nyami Nyami (the Zambezi river God) in the Mara River on my camera too.
I went on a hot air balloon with 10 others and a Russian pilot who wore goggles. I was late as my guide had to make a two hour detour as the river was flooded from the storm. After we landed and had a champagne breakfast in the bush, the pilot showed us photos on his laptop of our trip. I really wanted them but didn’t want to pay US$40 but then decided to although I didn’t have the cash on me. He said I could give the guide the money when he dropped me off.
I got the USB stick and put it into my camp’s computer in reception and found that most of the photos were distorted. I phoned the guide and told him not to give the pilot the money and to collect the stick. But at the same time I quickly downloaded a few and emailed them to myself. I felt a little bit naughty but I really wanted them.
On my last day I went to lie in the sun at the swimming pool. It is mostly surrounded by bush and I was alone. After a swim I sat dripping wet on a hot glitter stone step next to a bush of pampas grass. Lit a cigar and drank ginger beer. And watched an army of ants marching across the stones. And lizards basking in the sun. I felt giddy inside because for the first time in so flipping long I felt the most real I’ve felt for years. It was a familiar feeling like I would feel as a kid sitting with my cousin by the river on my gran’s farm or sitting outside with my kids when they were toddlers. That was the absolute highlight of my entire trip.
Then I remembered the vision I had in September 2017 when I thought I had landed in hell, God showed me a beach, a tent and a lion’s eyes and I felt safe. I got all three on this trip. Confirmation that God had my trip in my mind even during my darkest hour. He knew His plans for me. Restoration.
The world’s system is designed to control and destroy lives.
The Kingdom of God’s is a life of abundant joy and freedom.
When I returned back to Mombasa I went on the day tour with Nixon in a dhow from a port that arabs used to ship off slaves. We saw eight dolphins and snorkelled for two hours. Then had lunch on Wasini island and gave out pencils and sweets to the kids.
On my last day I went for my third full body massage in 10 days. Then had fish and sadza in a beach shack made out of simbi with sand floors and wooden benches with long thin tables. Nixon and I sat on the bench waiting for our fish to be cooked. I gave him my bible to have as Yeshua had asked me to and went for my last swim in the sea while he stayed behind. I whacked my foot on a whale’s rib bone which I kept.
Nixon poured water from a plastic bottle over my hands to wash and asked me to show him how Zimbabweans eat sadza, so I rolled some up in a ball in my hand and dipped it into the relish. I’ve been doing this since a toddler when I shared meals with the cook. We rushed back to the hotel as I had to leave for the airport. I stopped along the beach and asked Nixon if he believes in Yeshua – he does and he believes me that I’ve seen Him too. I asked if I could quickly baptise him in the sea although I had never done it before. He gave it a raincheck. I gave him my aqua blue snorkel and goggles and said goodbye.
I had a window seat booked on my flight back to London but asked God if he could please leave an empty seat next to me. When I got to my seat there was a girl sitting next to mine. I sulked a little until I realised that the air hostess was moving her to an aisle seat as she wasn’t feeling well. We flew over the snow capped Alps where I will be landing in a few weeks time in transit to Rome for Christmas.
Yeshua said in John 1:51 that we will see angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.
Hebrews 1:14 Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister for those who will inherit salvation?
Jesus said in Matthew 26:53 Do you not think that I cannot now pray to my father and He will provide me with more than twelve legions of angels?
Psalm 91:11 – 12 For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up lest you dash your foot against a stone.
In 1998 I was living on a farm outside Mafikeng. I had left the Arts Council to run my guest farm. My parents had left their property next door and rented it out. One night their house burnt down and my father then sold it to me which I tried to sell through an estate agent. Business was slow and my phone line had been cut. It was during this time that I started to pray every night for Yeshua to help me. I believed in Him although I never knew Him intimately.
After a few months the property still wasn’t sold so I started trying to sell it on my own. One day a black man came on foot to ask me if he could buy it. He had recently received a retrenchment package from the prison and quickly bought it.
It took months for the transfer to come through when eventually I received the call from my lawyer to say that the money had been paid into my account. I put on Alanais Morisette’s Thank You and sat under my desk crying. It’s the first time I really felt Yeshua showing me His power.
I drove to the bank and withdrew enough money to pay my phone bill. I was soaring when I walked into Telkom. There was a queue at the counter and standing at the back of the line was a blonde man who stood out. In all my life I had never seen such a man in person – in a magazine – or on screen. He was too good looking and dressed in a stylish suit.
Which could have resulted in me walking straight passed and through the – Staff Only – door and up to the first desk. I was too excited for them to chase me out. After they had sorted out my bill I looked up and the gorgeous man was standing inside with me a little away from the desk with his legs slightly apart and his arms folded – smiling at me. I left floating. This was the first time I had seen an angel.
In Mafikeng if there was a tent next to a police block I would drive over pavements to reroute. As they took your license and looked up on a computer if you had any outstanding fines which you had to pay on the spot or have your car impounded.
One day I was driving out of town along the open road back to the farm when I reached a roadblock with a tent. I was trapped and casually told my daughter I’m going to prison as I had at least six outstanding fines. Only to be met by a tall black man with an American accent – this was Mafikeng. The Tswana people are short and lighter skinned. He was very friendly which was unusual and he didn’t even take my license to be checked and let me go through.
Another time I was on the farm when a black man was calling me from outside my electric gate. My daughter was with me and I walked up to the gate praying. He told me that he had seen a child’s bicycle in the bush along the road. So I naively asked him if he could fetch it for me. I think he actually wanted me to go out with him. When he brought it back – it was my daughter’s bike. I took it and thanked him. But then his eyes changed – they became glossy – like when someone has smoked pot. He started to walk towards me – saying he wanted an Afrikaans wife. I told him I’m Zimbawean. And then he started to fumble off backwards into the thorn tree behind him – he looked in shock and then turned and ran away. I was perplexed but I am sure he saw an angel standing behind me.
One night I was alone with my daughter on the farm. I had two other cottages which I rented out and both tenants were away for the weekend. We were asleep in my bedroom which fortunately a year prior I had put in burglar bars and a security gate. The rest of the house had no security. Around 2am someone entered my home through the kitchen window and turned on all the lights. Knowing that we were all alone and no threat. He went through my rondawel making a huge racket. This was one of my fears and yet I had no fear.
Just as well cell phones were around then and I calmly phoned my daughter’s teacher who lived in town to call her brother who lived on the farm next door to me. Her cellphone was in the lounge but she had just got up to go to the kitchen to get water when she heard it and was able to phone her brother. Whose phone was on silent next to his bed but his Jack Russell was in the house as it had recently had surgery and needed to be let outside. He had been ignoring his dog’s prompts so it jumped onto his bed and bit him.
When he got up using his cell phone as a torch he noticed the call coming in and was able to respond. He drove up to my fence where he saw about seven black men standing by my car. And fired a shot which dispersed them and sent the one in my cottage back out my kitchen window.
My other two cottages had been broken into too. I got burglar bars and security gates fitted in my rondawel that day. And a few days later I was in my cottage and sensed that I was being watched from the bush. I locked all my doors. And that night the other two cottages were robbed again. Some of their stolen goods were found at a house in a nearby location which belonged to criminals who had recently gone to jail after raping and torturing a woman in Coligny. They were in prison in Coligny but had escaped and then murdered a farmer and raped his wife in Lichtenburg and stolen their bakkie.
A few days after the burglary I was walking with my daughter to the pit to throw away rubbish. When I faced my second worst fear. As I was approaching the pit I sensed danger – it was like a buzzing sound around me. When I came to the pit there lay a puff adder on the other side which then slowly slid away.
This all happened just after I had thought I could settle in Mafikeng since I was getting paid well and my daughter was in a good school. But God had other plans. For me to return to Zimabwe and then later on to come to the UK.
In 2016 one evening in the UK I was trying to get back to Verwood from Bournemouth but had missed the last bus. I was on steroids for cancer which my haematologist was weaning me off since they had made it difficult for me to concentrate and to talk without stuttering. The bus at the stop was showing X3 Salisbury. I asked a tall black man standing on the pavement if he knew how I could get back to Verwood – he smoothly glanced over to the bus and said that one is going to Verwood. The bus had changed from Salisbury to read Verwood. I rushed to the bus – a couple were in front of me and asked the driver for tickets to Salisbury. He was annoyed and said the bus isn’t going to Salisbury. And they said ‘you’re joking’. But he wasn’t – the route had changed.
About a week later I was taken to Bournemouth hospital because of my reaction to steroids (Psst blog). My first night in the cancer ward I saw a man standing at the reception desk. He stood out to me so I knew he was different. He had a lovely smile. A couple of days later I had a drip in my arm which suddenly became very sore – it felt like the needle was twisting in my vein. I was calling the nurses to take it out and just then my mother walked through the door – I screamed in fear. Then the man I had seen at the desk that night rushed in and sat down on the bed next to me and said,
‘Kim you’re scared of snakes – aren’t you?’ I was quite stunned that he was actually beside me but calmed down.
He then walked out and told my mother who was standing in the passage,
‘Don’t worry she’s just scared of snakes.’ And rushed off. My mother said he had the kindest eyes.
A day or two later when the Pulse staff were trying to force me to take medication – I told them we needed to compromise. I needed to tidy my room first. A nurse was helping me make my bed but that same man was standing in my room too and briefly tucked the sheets in at the end of my bed. I was too shy to look at him as I knew he was holy. When I was back in the same ward having chemotherapy I asked the nurses if they knew who he was and none of them knew who I could be referring to. Just as well my mother saw him otherwise I would have thought I made him up.
In 2017 when I was ‘down the rabbit’s hole’ and thrown into hospital I had phoned 999 because the black staff were banging on my bedroom door screaming at me. The next day I was sitting in my room when I heard some men outside my door. They were talking to one of the staff – a white guy who didn’t like me – telling him they had come to change my bedroom lock. He told them it wasn’t my lock but the room next door’s that needed to be changed. They insisted it was mine and knocked on the door – I was sitting reading ‘Becoming my Beloved’ and they looked into my room and said ‘Ah yes’.
I was asked by the staff in a jittery tone if I would be able to give these men time to change my lock – so I left my room. And when I walked passed with my head down one of them gently said ‘thank you’. I went to the toilet and heard him outside my door say ‘Don’t worry darling – we’re the only ones with the key’. Then they said to the staff that it was in fact the room next door that needed to be changed and proceeded to change that lock too. I was standing in the reception area reading the notices when they walked passed me to leave. And caught their reflections. They walk with holy authority – just the way you would imagine Yeshua doing. I soon left to accomplish my mission.
When I was at Royal Livingstone Hotel in Zambia I was sitting at the bar having lunch. Next to me was a lady and on her otherside was an American man. For some reason this man had been trying to get my attention days prior by telling me how rich we could be. I was ignoring him. He had said ‘Come on Kim – ‘Skinny’. Which was the name I had given my rabbit I had with me at Bournemouth Hospital.
Anyway this couple were annoying me – talking complete nonsense – they do ‘down the rabbit’s hole’. I had had days with this and eventually spoke up and said ‘Shut up!’. Immediately a group of men sitting in the bar lounge stood up and one said ‘Christian! That’s her favourite author – John Eldredge.’ As I had my laptop open on Ransomed Heart. I caught their reflection in the glass of the drinks cabinet. I turned to watch them leave and again they walk with holy authority and I wanted to go with them. I asked the waitress where they were going as I was trying to get out of the spirit world and she said they come back at 4pm.
One day in Stockbridge I had gone to the Co-op and there was a Chinese lady paying at the counter who said loudly ‘I smell fish’ when I walked passed. She had a strange toddler with her – a white girl with weird blue eyes who stood in my way and looked up at me. There are few children in the spirit world but when there are, they are very young and really strange looking. I told her to ‘scoot’ and walked out and turned onto the pavement. A man with hair just like mine came striding towards me. He was exciting because he was in jeans and a t-shirt but still in authority and as we walked passed eachother it felt like we were on the ‘same page’. He looked like he could have been my twin brother. Again he was not like anyone I had seen before. I thought it might be Yeshua and felt a bit shy that I was instead supposed to have been loving Him like a brother and not so love sick chasing Him to Africa and back.
But I was right because Yeshua did show up about a week later and He out of all the angels I have seen over all these years – is even more gorgeous (Lion Of Judah blog). He is masculine and the most handsome but yet He has an inviting mysteriousness which only a woman has but He is in no way feminine. It’s really hard to explain because I have never experienced that in a man before and it matches the very sensation I have in my spirit when I have that longing feeling.
As real as heaven and hell are – so is the spirit world. You can see into the spirit world with drugs or trauma. But you can also physically enter it – that’s the big ‘scientific secret’. I had The Holy Spirit leading me all the way through and I was surrounded by Holy angels to protect me throughout – so many times they stood in to get me through it. They have tremendous authority. My goal was to find Yeshua and it started with the sense of urgency that the rapture was imminent.
When we leave the Holy Spirit does too – He is the Restrainer. And then I can only imagine that the spirit world will meet with the real world during the tribulation. Institutions won’t have space to imprison those left behind on earth – who will be driven mad by what they experience – only camps will.
2 Kings 2:16 Do not be afraid for those who are with us are more than those who are with them
I arrived on an assignment in Westminster a few days before Boris Johnson announced to prorogue Parliament which brought out demonstrators in London.
I had left my camera at home and had to pay £144 for it to be couriered overnight. Instead of packing my charger, my dad put my external DVD player in the box and my battery was flat.
I paid the porter to take my battery to a camera shop in Victoria for them to charge for an hour before my break. Then had two hours to photograph a demonstration before rushing back to my job with The Baroness, an ex peer from the House of Lords.