By Neil Primus

THE ENTIRE length of Poverty Dam knew about the “High Bridge Jumbie.” Rumour has it that some nights after midnight a beautiful woman could be seen walking back and forth on the bridge. She is always crying loudly. There is also a story circulating about an even weirder phenomenon. On more than one occasion a coffin could be seen slowly crossing the bridge. Only a fool would attempt to engage either entity. There were no such fools in Poverty, with the exception of Oliver.
Oliver was daring. He was afraid of nothing except his wife Rita. She was the only person that truly terrified him. He took a regular busing and numerous thumps from his angry spouse. All of their marital problems rotated around one thing only; Rum.
All of Oliver’s energy was directed to enjoyment of self. There was only one thing that he enjoyed and that was liquor; rum in particular. Most week-day and every weekend he spent imbibing at one of the rum shops in the village. Poverty Dam was a small fishing village and all of the sea fearers indulged in this past-time. That automatically qualified them as a friend of Oliver. This means that he was never short of drinking buddies. It also meant that he spent a lot of money on rum. This resulted in less and less money for the home. His wife Rita was unemployed so things got tougher and tougher for the family of five. Rita often took her frustration out on Oliver.
When the rumours of strange happenings started swirling about, Oliver refused to believe them. He swore to cross the bridge anytime he wanted. And cross it he did.
One dark, moonless night Oliver was slowly making his way home. There was no other way for him but across the bridge. He was so drunk that speed was unthinkable. Staggering in a crooked zig-zag pattern he headed for the bridge and home.
As he approached the bridge he noticed that something was blocking his way. When he got close enough to see clearly he recognized it to be a coffin. The six foot long casket was effectively barring his passage.
Immediately the rumours came to mind. Digging deep into his bravery reserves, he steadied himself and made a valiant but unwise charge for the bridge. He was never seen or heard from again.
Eventually the story of the crying woman reached the ears of villagers. Apparently, she was a young East Indian woman who was married to another young East Indian man living in the village many decades ago. Their marriage was a quiet hurried affair – as many arranged marriages are.
The woman Sabitree and husband Ramesh, were both married at a very early age; fifteen and seventeen respectively. The first time they met each other was one week before the marriage. As can be expected from such an arrangement, there was plenty of ways for things to go wrong, and wrong it did go.
Ramesh was always opposed to the union but his elderly parents insisted. If he hoped to inherit the family’s riches he would comply. He did so reluctantly. Sabitree in the meanwhile had little choice in the matter. She was a docile, quiet, almost fragile girl. Obedience was the only way she knew. She did as she was expected to do. The marriage lasted the better part of six months.
Just out of high school, Ramesh met many new friends including girls. They fascinated him and slowly he became intoxicated by beauty. The young husband began cheating on his wife. He felt no guilt or remorse. He was too busy enjoying himself. Soon he began sleeping out and making public appearances with his other woman. This news got back to his parents and wife. When he was confronted he was defiant and unapologetic. He was immediately ejected from the home and the marriage was over.
Sabitree took this very badly. She fell into a deep depression. Nothing her parents or (former) in-laws did made things any better for her. One evening she went for a stroll and never returned. The distraught young woman had plunged to her death over the High Bridge. Thereafter, at nights, the beautiful jumbie would appear, walking on the bridge. Her long beautiful, black hair would be covering her face so that no one was able to recognize her. She was a stunning yet terrifying sight.
One faithful night Ramesh was returning home from visiting one of his many women. He had heard the rumour but paid scant attention to them, he was too engrossed in his world of sensuality. Unknown to him tonight he would meet another mysterious beauty.
Ramesh hesitated briefly as he approached the bridge. It was past 12 and his mind was filled with images and sensation of the past two hours. It was not until he started up the sharp incline that he realized somebody else was there. As she came into full view the young Casanova stopped in pleasant surprise. She was a gorgeous creature. Even though her long hair completely obscured her features, he sensed that she was special. After all, he had plenty of practice in this field. Smiling he approached the woman. Then he noticed something else. She was sobbing softly, her head hung low in sadness.
The young man moved smoothly to her side, his confidence oozing from every pore in his body. He was handsome and outgoing, and this had reaped numerous success stories.
“Hi sweetheart. Why are you crying?”
There was no response from the dejected figure. Ramesh gently put his hand under her chin and tilted her head upwards. With his free hand he deftly brushed aside the hair so that he could see the face. He would regret this move. When the hair was removed, he found himself gazing into the face of his dead wife. Horror, shock, terror and complete disorientation hit him, all at the same time. He just stood there, aghast, staring transfixed into the face of death.
“Ramesh!”
“Oui Bai!”
“Yo! Ramesh what’s up?”
Two of his friends had just arrived on their cycles. What they saw give them cause to worry. Their buddy was standing on the bridge as if in a trance. No matter how hard they shouted he seemed unable to respond to them.
Ramesh gazed at the woman he had spurned. If only he had taken time to see her true beauty. She was better looking than any of his flings. She took his hand and led him towards their destiny. He was powerless to resist and complied knowing what was about to occur. He felt a sense of relief and regret for his past actions. The couple walked to the edge of the bridge and over it.
Two dumbfounded youths watched with horror as their friend took the death-dive. As he was going over they at last saw what he was seeing; Sabitree. They needed no further motivation for emergency flight. Bikes forgotten the two sped away from the bridge and towards the burial ground.