IN THE middle of the community of Mauby Park, there is a small playfield. Right in the centre of the field is a large calabash tree. Everyone uses the playfield as a shortcut to the back of the village. Only thing is, the calabash tree is the headquarters of all the ‘jumbies’ in the small rural village. You can pass safely anytime before 12a.m; anytime after that, you’ll get a real ‘flingings’ from an angry jumbie. Many of the spirits that dwell there are associated with dead people of the village. There is the black fowl that belonged to a nine-year-old girl who was brutally murdered. At 12 every night, it appears under the tree, walking in a circle and clucking loudly. Any fool who ventures too close gets a good pecking and spurring. An inquisitive village gossiper ran to see which fowl clucking and got one eye pecked out.
Then there is the white pig that appears and disappears. It was owned by the butcher, Mr. Salim. Salim committed suicide because his wife ran away with a young man from the village. After midnight, it appears and begins to glow a bright silver. An old drunk went by late one night. He was so drunk that he tried to use the shortcut after midnight. Out came the pig, glowing in a scary way. Poor drunken Cyril could not see it too well, and mistook it for the headlight of a car. He approached it, staggering badly.
“Leh me get a drop nah,” he begged.
And drop he did get. The pig drop some kick, bite and butt pon he that he get sober immediately.  He hopped, skipped and dodged his way back to the front of the village, screaming at the top of his lungs. This experience caused him to stop walking late, quit eating pork, and stop drinking High Wine. He only takes Vodka now.
But the strangest spirit of them all is a fluffy brown puppy that lies down on the same spot where its owner was killed in an accident. At one minute after midnight every moonlight night, the cuddly puppy appears and lies down on the same spot where her owner died. Many persons, not knowing the history, tried to intervene. Those who wanted to pick it up and take it home found that it disappeared as soon as they tried to touch it. But as they continued on home, they would see the animal following them. Each time they tried to pick it up, it would vanish. Just before reaching their home, the puppy would disappear for good.
Any person who tried to chase it away, kick or pelt it was in for a night of terror. The puppy, after being challenged, would transform itself into a large vicious dog. That hapless person would be badly bitten and chased right to their home. Next morning, shreds of clothing would be found in the playfield, evidence of some unlucky lad barely making it home with his clothes in tatters. Luckily, it never killed anyone.
One very strange thing about the fluffy brown puppy was that it only allows young  women to touch it without disappearing. And even then, she could never move it from the spot because it always seems to weigh a ton.
The village’s favourite spirit was the black cat that came out of nowhere whenever you passed by the calabash tree. This was the only spirit that did not wait until midnight to appear. Once the moon was out, so was the mysterious cat. It belonged to the village priest who died of old age. The cleric was well respected, and loved by everyone, and badly missed by the villagers. The cat was the most active spirit.
Village drunks, womanizers, and late walkers who encountered the cat swear it turns into a puma and chases them home.  Many have run distances and at speeds that they themselves would not have believed possible. The result was that many of them curbed their wild ways. Women who came upon the cat either got protection until they arrived home, or if they were a bit on the wild side, they would get a good chase until they got into the safety of their home. Nobody minded this spirit; it kept villagers in line.
Usually, only one spirit came out at a time. Some came out on different nights than others as if they had a good agreement and understanding. Then one Full Moon night, something went terribly wrong; it was a night Mauby Park would never forget.
It was a Full Moon night. The silver light of the beaming celestial body flooded the village like an unstoppable tsunami.  Even the shadows were much darker than usual, and more life-like. That night, a Pentecostal pastor who was trying his best to win over villagers to his small congregation, decided to conduct an exorcism of all the spirits of the calabash tree. He would rid the village of these marauding beings.
There was the pastor, his wife, his young daughter, three elderly villagers and two visitors from the capital. Prayers were said and Holy Water blessed. The pastor had a wooden cross made and painted white. He would evict the jumbies, and plant the cross, claiming the ground for Jesus.
Unfortunately, the Holy Man had been misusing monies given him to build a church. It was not the first village he had visited and been given financial assistance to build the church. The cash was always not enough to build  a church. Eventually, the idea had to be abandoned. He moved on with the money, and started somewhere else.
Now he was about to challenge the ‘free’ spirits of Mauby Park. The small solemn procession headed to the playfield, led by Pastor Sledge, carrying the cross. Slowly, they closed in on the small field, singing songs of praise. They entered the ground and surrounded the calabash tree. This activity was timed to coincide with midnight. At 12am sharp, Pastor Sledge started throwing Holy Water on the tree, and shouting at the top of his voice.
“I rebuke you, Satan!  I command you unclean spirits to leave this place, in the name of Jesus!”
Suddenly, the wind picked up speed, the temperature dropped, and the night felt chilly. Then, all hell broke loose! Someone screamed and kicked a black cat. At the same time, a small puppy was soaked with water. Then the pup and cat changed form and became large dangerous animals. Then the pig made his appearance, and the black fowl flew down to join the party. What took place thereafter is hard to explain. Neighbours living close to the playfield recalled  hearing voices raised in fear and panic.
“Oh Jesus! Is a tiger!”
“Run fuh yuh life!”
“Oww! De daag bite meh pon me bamsy.”
“Ouch! Aaah! Eeee! “
It was kicks, butt, scratch and bite, left, right and centre.
Pastor Sledge kicked off his expensive Clarks, hoisted his substantial bulk and did a Tyson Gay to the front of the village. He left the small group behind to face the wrath of the spirits of the calabash tree. They were running around in circles in the field at the receiving end of an assault by jumbie. Many injuries were sustained. Fortunately, the sudden covering of the moon by a cloud caused the spirits to disappear momentarily.
 The remaining members of the flock raced to the head of the village. Pastor Sledge was long gone. Each of them bore evidence of an exercise that had backfired. Cuts, bruises and sprained and swollen body parts, pain and discomfort and fear were all thrown together in an emotional potpourri.
Suddenly, from the middle of the village, they could see four animals approaching. Moonlight had returned. In terror, they all headed for the city on the run. Some were praying, while others cursed the day they met Pastor Sledge.
The Free Spirits? They’re still very much in residence… under the calabash tree.