My first visit to Dominica occurred sometime in 2005. I fell in love with the beauty of the island while waiting in the LIAT plane during a 15-minute transit stop at the Melville Hall Airport.
I was not impressed with how the airport looked. At first sight, I thought it was someone’s dilapidated house or plantation, but I quickly overlooked that (today the airport has been vastly upgraded).
I was more captured by the “greenery” of the island. I had never seen such a green country out of all the Caribbean islands I had visited.
Flying over Dominica was also a splendid experience. There were miles of forests, rivers and streams; hardly any houses in site.
Having known little about Dominica, except that it was a haven for banana production in the Caribbean (which I learned in primary school), I thought to myself: “I have to make an official visit to find out what’s the secret hidden among those beautiful, green vegetation and seemingly, laid-back simplistic form of lifestyle.”
In less than a month, I was on my way to Dominica for a weekend visit. The journey from the airport quickly turned from breathtaking to stomach-sickening due to twists, turns and the many hours it took to reach the capital. I could swear that my intestines were twisted in knots. Luckily, I did not vomit all over the bus. After an hour of driving, I thought we were closing in, but the driver told me “soon, 25 minutes”. Oh Lord, I thought.
To cut a long story short, I enjoyed the short visit. It was nothing to talk about, but the people were friendly. I made social and business contacts. I did not go anywhere really. I stuck to town because I had promised myself I would be back.
That visit became the first of several visits to the island per year. During those trips I made friends with a female. But things got sour eventually when my ex got involved. A firestorm ensued and in no time, that female friend became my enemy. Females normally side with females.
On the positive side, I explored business opportunities. Some of the responses were not good at all. They were defensive. One very popular personality told me that what I wanted to do existed on island already. I got a similar response from an agency that dealt with the type of business I wanted to venture in.
I brushed it off, thinking that it was just patriotism and that people on a whole are just protective of their national interests and cautious about foreign intervention.
Well, all went well until things began going downhill for me back in my home country. Business plans were falling apart and relationships were falling apart. It was strange: it was as if anything I planned to do did not materialize. I mean, come on, not everything will go as planned, but it is like a moment in your life when everything stood at a standstill. I also began feeling ill.
I brushed that off too, thinking it was just one of those bad periods in my life. Of course, everyone experience hurdles, trials and tribulations in life. So I thought.
One morning, I got a call from my mother who began “speaking in tongues” on the phone. To Christians, speaking in tongues is believed to be a holy language and a manifestation of the Holy Spirit, who is using a human as a vessel to transmit prophetic events.
During the “speaking in tongues”, my mother told me that someone sent something from Dominica for me.
“Something from Dominica? A Fedex package?” I thought jokingly.
She went on to say that people in Dominica worked witchcraft and used the remains of a dead woman to evoke her spirit and send it to my house. The evil spirit, referred to my mom as a gypsy, a short Indian-like female, was lodged under my bed. She said it listens to everything I say and do and brought those messages back to people in Dominica, who would then use this information to block my plans.
A spirit under my bed? You’re kidding me. I live alone for Christ’s sake. It seemed like my mom wanted to freak me out.
She then asked a question, which knocked the final wind out of my speculation: “Do you find things are not working according to plan lately? Are you feeling ill?” she asked.
OK, now that was really freaking me out. To let you understand clearly, I DO NOT tell my mother about my plans. I never even told her I visited Dominica or was planning to visit. My mom lives in another country. How the heck did she know that? Well, I am familiar with my mother’s prophecies, especially when I lived with her. But this was more interesting as all assumptions that she would know my business because I lived with her were rubbished due to the fact she lives miles away from me, and she knew nothing about my trip. And no my ex did not tell her anything.
Anyway, I was mystified as to the reason someone would want to hurt me. I was a total stranger! I was just curious and interested about investing, that’s all.
My mother told me all what I needed to do to send the spirit back. She told me not to speak about any of my plans until they have materialized and should not disclose any of my business to anyone. She told me to read a particular Psalm every day for several weeks.
During the “phone ceremony”, which lasted about 10 minutes, she told me the good news that she successfully banished the spirit back to its messengers back in Dominica.
“I sent it back to them,” she proclaimed.
I never asked her who sent it or why, but I think I got the picture. As for me and the bed? I never looked under that bed for months. Anything that fell under it remained there. I was horrified by the thought of a gypsy woman spirit living under my bed and taking notes. How did she find her way back to Dominica? Did she book a flight with LIAT? And did she bring a notepad and pen?
I thought humorously to brush it off, but I was still horrified. I imagined many times this “woman” grabbing onto my feet and demanding that I speak so that she could have something to tell her masters. She probably would get pissed and strangle me in my sleep, I thought.
I recalled sleeping with lights on every night. The electricity bill skyrocketed, but I did not care.
Well things returned to normal in my life thereafter. And of course, I did not give up on Dominica – in fact I moved there to live. And my mother was surprisingly not pleased!
In subsequent stories I will reveal several experiences pertaining to what I have seen and observed. They are more horrifying. And it has nothing to do with Dominica. Evil is everywhere. In the USA, witchcraft, voodoo, necromancy, and other rituals are actual businesses, legal or not. They even advertise, inviting you to come and let them give you the opportunity to speak to your late loved ones.
Dominica is a beautiful place with beautiful people; it’s just that, like anywhere (as I have said) has its good and evils.
I look forward to the responses.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Persons are asked to submit stories about real-life ghost experiences, folklores, and anything related to firstname.lastname@example.org Submissions are strictly confidential, so do not worry. The column appears every Tuesday.