Live, laugh, my jaaja
- ramona kirabo
- Oct 30, 2023
- 2 min read
My only experience with the supernatural involves my grandmother. Here goes;
So, when I was little, I was terrified of ghosts. So terrified that the day Michael Jackson died, I didn’t sleep— I was not up for that meeting.
I lost many nights like this; once, when I pointed out a tombstone to someone on the school bus who then assured me the owner would be paying me a visit that night. Cause how dare I point at the dead?!?
Don’t get me started on how my nights went any time I heard the song, ‘Omuzimu Nankya’ too close to my bedtime.
Anyway, on the fateful day, my grandma was left to babysit my brothers and I. We played with no inhibitions. We were clearly getting on her last nerve, but what was she going to do? Unlove us?
At some point, after dark, she stepped out of the house. With her gone, my brothers and I turned to the only other source of entertainment— TV.
At the time, the working switch to the sitting room lights was all the way across the room, so of course we nominated our nicest sibling to step into the expanse of darkness.
Attempt 1 ended quickly with us insisting he come back and take his shoes off.
Attempt 2 was also a failure— we called him back so we could say a quick prayer over him.
The third time, just as we saw his vague figure get close to the switch, this loud roar filled the room. Our small feet could not carry us fast enough!
We ran outta there and into the bedroom, flying onto a bed. We lay there waiting for that dark entity to follow us. While we waited, my brothers shouted,
‘Jesus! Jesus!’
‘Reginaaaa!!’
Regina was the house-help, asleep on the other end of the house.
The ‘dark entity’ turned out to be my grandma,
who appeared in the doorway shortly after, gasping for breath, laughing.
Comments