(7) Dots and Dashes

(7) DOTS AND DASHES.

By: Ives (George) Pereira

Most people with strong stomachs love a good ghost story.

I have heard a good many, but it was clear that most of them came from the deep recesses of the story teller’s imagination.

However, the story that I am about to write about is one that is substantiated by several other people and particularly by me, since I felt a ghost and had one take control of me.

I worked for Cable and Wireless, a British telegraph company in Zanzibar.  Unknown to a whole lot of its radio operators was that this solid building and edifice (now converted into a 5-star hotel) was built on an old cemetery, that was unceremoniously cleared to make way for the building. 

 The large ground floor of the building was given to the operating section, and the apartments above the “instrument room” as the operating section came to be called, was reserved for rooky British engineers imported from the training school in Penzance, England.  These apartments were out of bounds to staff that was hired locally.  It was a part of British conceit that the locals were not worthy of rubbing shoulders with them socially, and the mythology that if the “European” staff got friendly with the locals, that they would ask for special favours in the work environment.  No staff member ever knew what kind of favours these could be. But I digress.  On with the story!

The washrooms were accessed by walking out of the instrument room, down a slight flight of steps and into the outhouse where you could do your thing and hopefully come out relieved.  Whenever I was slated for a week of night duty, I would take in a late movie and get on the night shift just on time. One night I reported on duty but soon felt the need to go to the washroom to do my thing, before I settled down to what appeared to be a very busy night. 

 I left the instrument room, walked down the steps leading to the washroom, when I suddenly froze in one spot. The hair behind my head stood up like a frightened hedgehog, and I was unable to move.  I tried to shout for help; could feel my lips moving, but there was no sound.  I then felt a cold presence and could feel it move through me from one side and out the other.   Once this occurred my whole body came back to life.  It only took me a second to realize that I was attacked by some unknown phenomena. At that unearthly hour I was even afraid to admit that it was a ghostly experience.   I shot up the steps and into the instrument room.  As I stood there a colleague remarked:

“Hey George, what’s the matter.  You look as though you have seen a ghost.”

I am glad to say that in my eleven years working for this Company, this was the only experience that I ever had.  I never again went anywhere close to the washrooms, unless I was accompanied by an exorcist. 

The next story is about one of my Arab colleagues.  I will call him Hamoud if only to hide his identity.  As radio operators, we were very considerate of each other.  Since the shift lasted six hours and there were three radio operators on duty, we allowed each other two hours of sleep while the other two held the fort.  In one of the rooms adjoining the instrument room there was a rarely used billiard table.  This became a convenient bed for us to relax during our two-hour stint.  

This night, Hamoud was asked to take the first break.  We were hard at work handling tons of press messages which were to be re-transmitted to other countries.  Suddenly, Hamoud came rushing into the instrument room.

“Come on you, guys.  If you don’t want me to sleep that’s fine,” he complained.

“What’s the matter?” asked the other two operators in unison.

“You guys came and hit me on the head while I was dropping off to sleep,” said Hamoud

“You got to be kidding.  We have been working us are…e off here.  You must have been dreaming,” said Jim.

“Perhaps it is someone else playing a trick on you.”    Jim followed Hamoud to the billiard room, checked under the table but there was nobody there.

“OK Hamoud, you must have been dreaming.  Have another go of it,” invited Jim.

After two hours it was time for Jim to knock off to sleep.  

He went to the billiard room to wake Hamoud.  To his surprise, Hamoud was not there.  Jim thought that perhaps he had gone to the washroom.  There was no sign of him there either.

The long and the short of it all is that Hamoud was nowhere to be found.  At six in the morning Jim called Hamoud to determine that perhaps he had taken ill and gone home.  Hamoud lifted the phone and in a tired voice he said to Jim, “I am not coming back to work in that haunted place.  Last night I lay on my back trying to get some sleep when suddenly I saw a bright light appear in front of me. The light suddenly emerged as a face of a man.  I got up and ran all the way home.  I am going to ask the Manager for a transfer out of that haunted house,” said Hamoud with finality.

One of the engineers Peter once engaged me in a conversation about a cultural issue, when he asked me whether I could keep a secret.  I told him that I couldn’t and that if his secret was to be kept in utter confidence it would cease to be a secret once he told me what it was.  He nevertheless had to get it out of his system since it bothered him.

“Have you experienced anything unusual in this place,” he started as openers.

“I did not answer.”

He continued, “See George, something strange has been happening to me in my apartment upstairs.”

“Strange,” I said as a form of encouragement for him to continue.

“Yes, very strange.  While asleep I suddenly get some heavy knocking on my door.  When I open it, there is nobody there.  Initially, I thought that it may have been one of the other engineers playing tricks on me.  I therefore decided that I would turn off my lights and sit next to the door and catch the culprit should the next knock on my door materializes.  Guess what?!  I did get a knock.  I pulled open the door but there was nobody there.  But this is not all.  I keep my wristwatch and my glass of water on top of my chest of drawers before I retire for the night. When I get up in the morning, I find them both in my bottom drawer.  This has happened to me more than once.  I could swear that this place must be haunted.” said Peter.

To set his mind at ease, I tried to explain to him that sometimes we could be doing things ourselves while we sleep.  For example, there are people who sleepwalk and don’t even know that they are doing it.  I don’t think that Peter thought that there was any credibility in what I was saying.

Since Cable and Wireless has folded, the building has been converted into a lavish hotel. I am sure that some of its customers will have a lot more tell their friends when they get home.