It was already morning. I lay awake in bed. A funny thing happened only the previous day. I have heard a lot of ghost stories and ghost encounters from other people. As is common, if you have not experienced it, it’s easy to dismiss it. And this may apply to all the things you hear without first hand experience, you easily brush it away.
Maybe it was a ghost, maybe it was a witch, it was all the same to me. As I came from work the day before, I took a short cut that ran past an old cemetery. I had used the footpath on countless times before.
Funny thing is for the first time, I noticed many willow trees around which magnified the graveyard as a place of sorrow and sadness and invariably a place of redemption or eternal damnation in the after life. I have resisted the use of the word purgatory for obvious reasons.
At the time, there was a small drizzle, the kind that comes with a cold breeze.
I heard sounds like the footsteps of a person. When I looked around me, there was no one else. Really? Were my ears playing truant with me? Maybe it was something else, maybe a stray dog, but dogs don’t make that kind of sound. I cocked my ears to hear clearly, but all I could hear were my own footsteps.
I watched my shadow. Something was amiss. There was another shadow besides my own. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. My eyes were not playing tricks. There was another shadow moving effortlessly and in tune besides my own, only that this one was more elongated. I suddenly had goosebumps all over my body and my hair stood on end. To whom did the shadow belong to? I was the only person within a radius of one hundred metres. I was petrified.
I only remember running for dear life and at the same time, the person-less shadow disappeared and I heard footsteps pattering away in the opposite direction. There was no one else around.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached Section C and I could see the first houses at the end of the street and other people moving about their own business.
This happened only yesterday. Should I tell Mai VaMaidei? Would She believe me? I was afraid of getting sick. When I was young, my grandmother, VaMasarura, once told me that if you see a ghost or witch, you will get sick afterwards. Some things are not meant to be seen. You can’t unseen them.
At that moment, Mai VaMaidei brought maize meal porridge and that ended my thoughts. The porridge was too whitish, a sign of too much carbohydrates.
“There is no peanut butter,” she said before I could even say anything. I involuntarily scowled.
She went outside. I heard her calling the children who were playing to come and eat. There was someone else outside because I could hear their voices. Likely, lt was Mai Bhobho, our neighbour. She was too vocal, with all the trappings of a true gossiper. One must always fear a gossiper. She was well known from one end of the street to the other and beyond.
When Mai VaMaidei came back, she said,” Mai Bhobho was asking about them,” she said, pointing her head in the direction of Uncle Hwidza’s room. These were the other tenants whom we were now sharing the house with.
I sighed. Mai Bhobho would never let go. Since the couple had moved in , I had only seen Uncle Hwidza a few times. He left at dawn and came back well into the night. Of the few times I saw him, he was too polite for his own good and was trying too hard to please and ingratiate himself to me.
“She is always indoors, she rarely comes out,” said Mai VaMaidei, pointing at the other room. If Mai Hwidza kept herself indoors, it was her business.
“Mai Bhobho is sure she knows Mai Hwidza from somewhere,” said Mai VaMaidei
There was always trouble around Mai Bhobho. I did not want trouble. Too much snooping around other people’s business.
“Stay away from Mai Bhobho,” I said. Even as I said it, I could see that Mai VaMaidei did not take my warning seriously.
Whether we liked it or not we had to respect Uncle Hwidza and his wife, we had to respect their privacy. I am trying my best to adjust to sharing the house with them, perfect strangers, but we had to respect their privacy in as much as they had to respect us and our personal space.
The potential threat to live in harmony came from Mai Bhobho.
About that time, there was a knock at the door. It was about time too. It was Baba VaTata. There was a big match, Manchester United was clashing against Arsenal.
The only place we could watch the match uninterrupted was at Zororo Bar on the big screen. As I left the house with Baba VaTata, Mai VaMaidei called out, “make sure you come back home early.”
There was no telling, coming home early depended on whether my team won or lost.
*Onie Ndoro X@Onie90396982