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True Story: "A Beggar Refused The R500 I Gave to Him in Johannesburg" - Something Strange Happened

True Story: "A Beggar Refused The R500 I Gave to Him in Johannesburg" - Something Strange Happened

My name is Owusu Agyampong, and I am well-known. In Johannesburg, I shared a small studio apartment with a long-time acquaintance. We dropped out of primary school in 2004, me and Essien, because our master of the cm2 had hit us so hard that we couldn't stay together any longer.

On days that we have math lessons with him on the multiplication tables, he's ready to "kill us," so we still rush out of bed and into the classroom; on an unfortunate morning, he murdered one of our neighbors.

In any case, it was difficult for us to get into a primary school where the professor just wanted to morter on us all of the time, and our parents could not afford to send us to school.

We soon took over our small shoe shine company and continued to do so for the next ten years.

We wanted the job because we didn't have enough resources to live comfortably, and we couldn't read or write, so computer keyboards were foreign to us. We were all labeled "grazers with my parents" in 2014.

Essien instructed me one morning to go downstairs to a lady in the BC rooms, who would assist us in becoming wealthy. I was terrified, but when we arrived at the lady's entrance, I refused to enter the lady's black home.

He emerged 30 minutes later with a piece of dangling from his back. My friend approached him on his own. I asked him what he meant when he said, "It's a little sore djo, let's go."

When the piece of loin was removed, a portion of Essien's little finger was missing, and Essien suddenly began to have capital, and after a week, his wound was completely healed. The lady had given him a small leather sac with no key, which he had opened by reciting two or three sentences.

He relocated us to Johannesburg City, where we lived in a lovely apartment, where he bought new clothes every week, and where we lived with the girls of our choosing, leading to a very happy life, free of the frustrations of our past.

I approached a beggar one day while walking through Johannesburg, and he looked at me and said, "Take care, little one."

"Take your money away from here, I don't need the money from human ritual," Essien said, as he wanted to place a note of 500 Ghc on his plate as well. This is how the gentlemen expressed himself.

As a result, he, like Essien, is really ashamed of us. Despite the fact that I have no idea who he is or where the beggar came from, I felt bad that people around me were listening to the old man's words. I understand that what my friend did was wrong, and that his money is not pure.

Should I keep my friendship with him? Please provide me with advice and assistance.

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