I have heard many scary ghost stories in my lifetime, and one of them happened to be the personal experience of a chum. It happened just before the war when he was still a schoolboy. As a matter of fact, it took place in his school. He was not the only one who witnessed it, for several classmates and even their teacher were also there. Of course, he would not like to be mentioned here by name, so let us just call him Abu, and let us call the school Kampung Raya Primary School. Kampung Raya, the village, lay in a valley between two hills, Bukit Ria in the east and Bukit Raya in the west. Running through the middle of the village was a stream, its source being somewhere up in Bukit Ria. A meandering, half a metre deep water course most times of the year, the stream turned into a torrent during the monsoons, often overflowing its banks and flooding the area.
Among the fifteen boys in Abu's class at Kampung Raya Primary School was a ten year old called Dollah, by far the biggest trouble maker of them all. He lived alone with his widowed mother at the edge of the village. His father died when he was a baby, leaving his mother to raise him all by herself. But she had to spend so much time earning a living by farming and washing clothes that Dollah was left practically on his own. No wonder the boy grew into the ruffian he was. Dollah was seldom to be found at home after school. In fact, unless his mother Mak Dara summoned him back, home would be the last place he would be thinking of. Instead, he would be roaming the village, always up to some tricks or other, right till dusk. There was no durian, mango, guava or even coconut tree that he had not raided. There was no fruit tree he had not turned into setting of his favourite 'Tarzan' stunt, in which he swung from branch to branch. Though he often landed ungracefully on the hard ground instead of making it across like his hero always does, and though he often got hurt very badly in the process, he was never detered.
According to my friend Abu, Dollah had one of these very rough landings one day, when a branch broke as he tried to execute a tarzan swing in a sapodilla tree in the school grounds. he seemed to have only sprained his right arm though, and after a vigorous liniment rub and a bandage, he was back in action. One day, a big downpour caused the stream to overflow and flood the village. As the storm abated and the flood waters receded, the village became abuzz with the news that Mak Dara had lost her son. A search was mounted, but Dollah could not be found. It was two days later when his body was recovered among the debris under a road culvert about two miles downstream. And it was then that some of his buddies reported having seen him swimming during the downpour in the torrent that the stream had become. He was buried in the village cemetery.
One afternoon three months after the incident, Abu and his classmates were having soccer training under their teacher, Cikgu Juraimi, in the school field. 'Cikgu Juraimi told me to fetch a ball from a cupboard in our classroom,' said Abu as he began his story. 'The school was a large two storey building, originally built by the government as the residence of a British District Officer. When he was posted elsewhere, the building was left vacant for several years before it was finally turned into a school. My classroom was at the rear, facing away from the field. Cikgu Juraimi gave me the keys to the main door, the classrom and the cupboard. I opened the main door and went into the school hall. That's where the staircase was, you see. 'It was a very different atmosphere in the hall then. I mean, every morning the place would be jam packed with noisy kids, assembled to listen to some speech or instructions from the headmaster before filing into their classrooms. But when I was there that afternoon, the hall was silent and still. All I heard were my footsteps on the concrete floor. All the windows were shut, so it looked rather gloomy even though the sun was shining outside. Once in a while I could hear my pals in the school field breaking into laughter.
'I was climbing the staircase when for no apparent reason an eerie feeling came over me. It was so sudden, I simply could not explain what was happening. Then when I was almost at the top landing, whoosh! came a gust of wind from behind me. Very swift. I told myself it must have blown in through the open main door, through the hall and up the staircase. But the eeriness grew and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I paused and turned around, but could see nothing unusual.' 'I went up and followed the corridor to the classroom. The door was locked, of course, and with trembling hands I inserted the key, turned it, and gently pushed the door open.' Swallowing his saliva, Abu continued, 'The classroom was gloomy too, as all the windows were shut. As I strode to the corner where the cupboard stood, I caught a movement in the corner of my eye. It was somewhere on my left, at the back of the room, in between the rows of chairs and desk. i could feel the blood going to my feet. I turned around, and what a great shock I had! For there was Dollah, watching me!
'The face was drawn and pale. His cheekbones bulged under the fleshless skin and his mouth was stretched into a grin that revealed his teeth in a frightening way. His eyes were fixed at me without so much as a blink. 'I simply stooped in my tracks. I could not move. My legs felt like jelly. There was only my breathing, going up and down rapidly. We stared at each other for several moments before he finally vanished. 'Somehow then, I regained my wits and dashed out of the room. I ran down the staircase and sped out of the hall. Cikgu Juraimi and my classmates at the field were alarmed to see me sprinting wildly towards them. Breathless not just from the sprint but also from shock, I told them what happened.
'Cikgu Juraimi's immediate reaction was to twist my ear like he always did whenever he caught one of us misbehaving. Angrily, he chided, 'What nonsense is this? Are you delirious or something?' 'I swear, Sir,' I replied. 'I did see Dollah's ghost, Sir. He was sitting in the classroom, staring at me.' Seeing hoe earnest I was, Cikgu Juraimi fell silent, though it took a while before his hand let go of my ear. 'Atan, Manaf, go to the classroom and check if what Abu said is true,' Cikgu Juraimi instructed. But the two boys just froze. 'Hurry up!' snapped Cikgu Juraimi. They rose and dragged their feet to the main door. They soon disappeared from view, and we remained in the field, waiting, not a word spoken between us. 'Five minutes later, Atan and Manaf were speeding out of the school building towards us. There were wide eyed in apparent horror, their faces seemingly drained in blood. They were shouting, 'He's right, Sir. The ghost still sitting in the classroom.' This time, Cikgu made faces to show his disbelief. 'If you don't believe us , why don't you go and see for yourself, Sir?' Atan suggested.
'Why don't we all go,' said Cikgu Juraimi, rising. 'All of you, come with me, including you, Abu, Atan and Manaf. Just be careful, in case we do meet Dollah or his ghost. Alright?' And so, with Cikgu leading the way, we trooped warily into the school building and up to the classroom. Cikgu was the first to step inside, while Atan, Manaf and I were right at the back of the group, just outside the door. Suddenly, Cikgu Juraimi stopped in his tracks and we heard him saying Astaghfirullah, God forgive me! We peeked inside through the door, and saw Dollah on a chair, gazing at us! 'Leaning against the wall near him was his coffin, evidently rotten. Dollah's eyes were fixed on us. We stood like statues at the door, petrified like we'd been put under a spell. Then slowly Dollah got up and we saw that he was swathed from waist down in a tattered and mud stained piece of withe cloth. The shroud, obviously. He looked unusually tall when he stood up. Then, without taking his eyes away from us, he took his coffin off the wall where it had been leaning, and with both hands swung it above his head. And with a blood curdling cry, he hurled it at us.
We were so stunned, we could not move and simply watched as the coffin flew murderously in our direction. It seemed to land on us, but all we felt was a rush of freezing cold wind that enveloped us momentarily. In the confusion, we heard Cikgu Juraimi shouting at us to flee. 'We all ran, helter skelter, down the staircase and out of the school towards the field. I noticed we were not the only ones struck by terror, for Cikgu himself was looking very pale and shaken. Cikgu warned us not to spread the story. But, it got out somehow and, before the sun had set that afternoon, the whole village was talking about our sighting Dollah's ghost. As usually happens with rumors, the story got embellished as it was conveyed along the grapevine, and soon it appeared that Dollah did not simply hurl the coffin but had even tried to grab one of us, and that Cikgu Juraimi had to wrestle with him to free the victim. Something like that.
By evening, the folks were descending in droves upon our teacher's house to find out more about the incident. Well, Cikgu Juraimi denied everything. He denied we ever saw the ghost. He claimed we had probably been imagining things or had made it all up. He told his visitors, 'Abu had been under some delusions and fears lately and this had probably infected all of us. We were in a confused state of mind in that classroom and had probably imagined we had seen Dollah's ghost. Next morning, Cikgu Juraimi and us kids were summoned to the headmaster's office. Cikgu Abas questioned us at length, one by one, about the incident. Even Cikgu Juraimi did not escape the grilling. When he had finished, the headmaster sat slumped in his chair, apparently stunned by what he had found out. He then asked if we noticed anything extraordinary about Dollah's ghost as he threw the coffin at us. We looked at each other, trying to recall what happened.
Manaf gave the answer, 'I noticed when he lifted the coffin that his right arm was crooked.' Next thing we knew, we were following Cikgu Abas and Cikgu Juraimi to see old Haji Daud. Headmaster said he had to ask the man something, because he was the one who conducted the funeral rites for Dollah, as he had done for practically everyone who had died in the village. Haji Daud told us he did notice, as he was preparing Dollah's body for burial, that his right arm was twisted. Apparently, the arm that everyone thought was only sprained as a result of the fall from the sapodilla tree was really broken. We listened to him with gaping mouths. There was no question about it then. It must have been Dollah that we saw in the classroom. It must have been him that threw the coffin at us. It was no imagination.
One afternoon three months after the incident, Abu and his classmates were having soccer training under their teacher, Cikgu Juraimi, in the school field. 'Cikgu Juraimi told me to fetch a ball from a cupboard in our classroom,' said Abu as he began his story. 'The school was a large two storey building, originally built by the government as the residence of a British District Officer. When he was posted elsewhere, the building was left vacant for several years before it was finally turned into a school. My classroom was at the rear, facing away from the field. Cikgu Juraimi gave me the keys to the main door, the classrom and the cupboard. I opened the main door and went into the school hall. That's where the staircase was, you see. 'It was a very different atmosphere in the hall then. I mean, every morning the place would be jam packed with noisy kids, assembled to listen to some speech or instructions from the headmaster before filing into their classrooms. But when I was there that afternoon, the hall was silent and still. All I heard were my footsteps on the concrete floor. All the windows were shut, so it looked rather gloomy even though the sun was shining outside. Once in a while I could hear my pals in the school field breaking into laughter.
'I was climbing the staircase when for no apparent reason an eerie feeling came over me. It was so sudden, I simply could not explain what was happening. Then when I was almost at the top landing, whoosh! came a gust of wind from behind me. Very swift. I told myself it must have blown in through the open main door, through the hall and up the staircase. But the eeriness grew and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I paused and turned around, but could see nothing unusual.' 'I went up and followed the corridor to the classroom. The door was locked, of course, and with trembling hands I inserted the key, turned it, and gently pushed the door open.' Swallowing his saliva, Abu continued, 'The classroom was gloomy too, as all the windows were shut. As I strode to the corner where the cupboard stood, I caught a movement in the corner of my eye. It was somewhere on my left, at the back of the room, in between the rows of chairs and desk. i could feel the blood going to my feet. I turned around, and what a great shock I had! For there was Dollah, watching me!
'The face was drawn and pale. His cheekbones bulged under the fleshless skin and his mouth was stretched into a grin that revealed his teeth in a frightening way. His eyes were fixed at me without so much as a blink. 'I simply stooped in my tracks. I could not move. My legs felt like jelly. There was only my breathing, going up and down rapidly. We stared at each other for several moments before he finally vanished. 'Somehow then, I regained my wits and dashed out of the room. I ran down the staircase and sped out of the hall. Cikgu Juraimi and my classmates at the field were alarmed to see me sprinting wildly towards them. Breathless not just from the sprint but also from shock, I told them what happened.
'Cikgu Juraimi's immediate reaction was to twist my ear like he always did whenever he caught one of us misbehaving. Angrily, he chided, 'What nonsense is this? Are you delirious or something?' 'I swear, Sir,' I replied. 'I did see Dollah's ghost, Sir. He was sitting in the classroom, staring at me.' Seeing hoe earnest I was, Cikgu Juraimi fell silent, though it took a while before his hand let go of my ear. 'Atan, Manaf, go to the classroom and check if what Abu said is true,' Cikgu Juraimi instructed. But the two boys just froze. 'Hurry up!' snapped Cikgu Juraimi. They rose and dragged their feet to the main door. They soon disappeared from view, and we remained in the field, waiting, not a word spoken between us. 'Five minutes later, Atan and Manaf were speeding out of the school building towards us. There were wide eyed in apparent horror, their faces seemingly drained in blood. They were shouting, 'He's right, Sir. The ghost still sitting in the classroom.' This time, Cikgu made faces to show his disbelief. 'If you don't believe us , why don't you go and see for yourself, Sir?' Atan suggested.
'Why don't we all go,' said Cikgu Juraimi, rising. 'All of you, come with me, including you, Abu, Atan and Manaf. Just be careful, in case we do meet Dollah or his ghost. Alright?' And so, with Cikgu leading the way, we trooped warily into the school building and up to the classroom. Cikgu was the first to step inside, while Atan, Manaf and I were right at the back of the group, just outside the door. Suddenly, Cikgu Juraimi stopped in his tracks and we heard him saying Astaghfirullah, God forgive me! We peeked inside through the door, and saw Dollah on a chair, gazing at us! 'Leaning against the wall near him was his coffin, evidently rotten. Dollah's eyes were fixed on us. We stood like statues at the door, petrified like we'd been put under a spell. Then slowly Dollah got up and we saw that he was swathed from waist down in a tattered and mud stained piece of withe cloth. The shroud, obviously. He looked unusually tall when he stood up. Then, without taking his eyes away from us, he took his coffin off the wall where it had been leaning, and with both hands swung it above his head. And with a blood curdling cry, he hurled it at us.
We were so stunned, we could not move and simply watched as the coffin flew murderously in our direction. It seemed to land on us, but all we felt was a rush of freezing cold wind that enveloped us momentarily. In the confusion, we heard Cikgu Juraimi shouting at us to flee. 'We all ran, helter skelter, down the staircase and out of the school towards the field. I noticed we were not the only ones struck by terror, for Cikgu himself was looking very pale and shaken. Cikgu warned us not to spread the story. But, it got out somehow and, before the sun had set that afternoon, the whole village was talking about our sighting Dollah's ghost. As usually happens with rumors, the story got embellished as it was conveyed along the grapevine, and soon it appeared that Dollah did not simply hurl the coffin but had even tried to grab one of us, and that Cikgu Juraimi had to wrestle with him to free the victim. Something like that.
By evening, the folks were descending in droves upon our teacher's house to find out more about the incident. Well, Cikgu Juraimi denied everything. He denied we ever saw the ghost. He claimed we had probably been imagining things or had made it all up. He told his visitors, 'Abu had been under some delusions and fears lately and this had probably infected all of us. We were in a confused state of mind in that classroom and had probably imagined we had seen Dollah's ghost. Next morning, Cikgu Juraimi and us kids were summoned to the headmaster's office. Cikgu Abas questioned us at length, one by one, about the incident. Even Cikgu Juraimi did not escape the grilling. When he had finished, the headmaster sat slumped in his chair, apparently stunned by what he had found out. He then asked if we noticed anything extraordinary about Dollah's ghost as he threw the coffin at us. We looked at each other, trying to recall what happened.
Manaf gave the answer, 'I noticed when he lifted the coffin that his right arm was crooked.' Next thing we knew, we were following Cikgu Abas and Cikgu Juraimi to see old Haji Daud. Headmaster said he had to ask the man something, because he was the one who conducted the funeral rites for Dollah, as he had done for practically everyone who had died in the village. Haji Daud told us he did notice, as he was preparing Dollah's body for burial, that his right arm was twisted. Apparently, the arm that everyone thought was only sprained as a result of the fall from the sapodilla tree was really broken. We listened to him with gaping mouths. There was no question about it then. It must have been Dollah that we saw in the classroom. It must have been him that threw the coffin at us. It was no imagination.
No comments:
Post a Comment