by Michael Lamptey
In my part of the world, Ghana, we do not celebrate Halloween, but I thought it fitting to share an exciting and true story with my American friends, and whoever cares to know in commemoration of the day. It may not be the scariest ghost story you have heard, but it proves the doubters wrong. So, do ghosts exist? This question has been nagging me since my dear mother told me this story.
Many years ago, a three-year-old toddler (let’s call him John) who had just started walking steadily and mumbling a few words in his native language, was left by his mother in the care of an older cousin (James). The mother was off to attend the funeral of her auntie who, for this story, we will call Auntie Jane. John, at that age, was oblivious of any major event around him.
The previous day, he had learned that Auntie Jane had “traveled” when he’d run towards her door to seek solace from his menacing mom for refusing to eat dinner. They lived in an apartment within a large compound, in which every tenant was a relative, and that included Auntie Jane. This large compound had several cubicles of single bedroom apartments—a typical African family house setting. Theirs was a large extended family, and the entire household was obliged to attend the funeral of a ‘departed relative,’ so the house was empty, save the little toddler and his young cousin James. The house had two entrances which also served as exits.
The funeral took place in a funeral house about 1000 meters away. John happened to be the favourite of Auntie Jane who would usually pick him up, sing him lullabies, swing him in her arms, and even feed him most times, on days when his mother left him in the care of the extended family to attend work. A few hours after the burial of Auntie Jane, the mother returned from the funeral with other members of the household to a shocking story by her little son. When they came in through the western gate, they found John standing alone in the compound weeping loudly, whilst James took a shower in a bathhouse stationed in a far corner of the house. Immediately, his mother picked him up, and this dialogue ensued.
Mother: John come to mom, where’s James, and why are you crying?
John: Auntie Jane came here.
Mother: What???! How? When?
John: She just left (pointing to the eastern gate of the house).
John: When I run to her, she stopped me and told me not to come near her.
Mother: And what happened???
John: She went into her room, came out again, and had just left.
As can be deciphered from the dialogue, Auntie Jane entered her room (which was unlocked), came out within a few minutes, left through the Eastern gate, and just then the little boy’s mother and the other relatives arrived from Auntie Jane’s funeral through the western gate. John was not weeping because he had been left alone in the compound by James, but because Auntie Jane, his favourite Auntie, had refused to pick him up and swing him in her arms, something that was very unusual.
Yes, you guessed right! This little toddler was me, and this is a true story, a story my dear mother and some aunties who were on hand when this happened keep reminding me of, anytime I attempt to challenge anything akin to the paranormal. How many would believe such a story if it had happened to an adult? I must say that, in my adult life, I have never personally experienced any such thing. However, I have heard first-hand mystery ghost stories from some friends and relatives. I have also recently watched in amazement a scientific approach employed by ‘ghost hunters’ to capture images and voices of ghosts, when I chanced upon an episode of the American talk show, Trisha. I honestly do not know what to believe, but if you have had any experiences that prove or disprove otherwise, it would be kind of you to share.
About the author:
Michael Lamptey is a social/collaboration entrepreneur, internet marketing guide, web developer and freelance blogger.
Feature photo credit: A NeONBRAND thewitch