Читать книгу American Indian Ghost Stories of the West - Antonio Sr. Garcez - Страница 13

After arriving at the reservation at mid-afternoon, I located the Manuel house among several others in the far west area of their housing development. Walking up to Albert and his wife who were sitting at their front porch, we chatted about several unrelated things, such as the weather, their children and health issues. When it came time to speak about ghosts, Mrs. Manuel spoke, “I think we should go inside where it’s safer.” Immediately Albert’s demeanor took on a more solemn tone and once inside, he spoke of his experiences with a reverence and sincerity of which you’ll now discover for yourself.

— Antonio

“I’m Maricopa and I’ve lived in this area all my life. I’m fifty-eight years old. As a kid I would see many things in my dreams, visions and lots of strange things. I worked as a farm worker some years ago, in the small town of Standfield, just a few miles away. I remember the times, when I was working some nights, several fellow workers would talk among themselves about seeing what we called, “El Cu-cui,” or the boogieman, in the fields. The workers would speak about seeing ghost lights and other strange things. There were nights when they would get so scared that they would leave work and go home. But I wasn’t scared, and everyone knew this. So my boss would send me to where this ghost was seen to finish the job on the farm. I never actually saw El Cu-cui, but I did hear it.

Back in 1958 when a lot of us Indians were in the fields picking cotton, there were some guys who died out in the fields. They were young Indians who committed suicide. I never found out why. I guess they were depressed or something. Not long after their deaths, we would all hear and experience very scary things. At the time, all the farm workers slept together in a common room, and at night when the lights were turned off, strange noises would start-up and our beds would start to shake. I remember even being touched all over my body while lying in bed. My face would be touched and invisible hands would hold my arms tightly. I knew this was caused by the deaths of the guys who died in the fields. It was their spirits. I remember also smelling a cologne or perfume in the room.

That same year, there was one Indian man who was killed one night, after leaving a bar. While at the bar he got into a fight with another guy. After the fight, he left the bar and walked home. As he was walking along the road, the guy he had the fight with came looking for him in his car. When the driver spotted him walking on the side of the road, he drove his car over him and killed him. The hit-and-run took place right next to a big tree, not far from here. The next day some Indians dug a quick hole and buried the man’s body. The hole must not have been very deep because the coyotes soon smelled the body, and dug some of it up. I remember walking by the shallow grave and seeing the dead man’s leg and foot bones sticking out of the dirt. I didn’t see his head, just the leg bones. A few days later, whenever local residents would walk by the shallow grave, they would make sure to carry some rocks with them. They dropped these rocks on top of the grave to prevent the coyotes from digging up more of the body. Eventually someone removed the body, and took it to our cemetery for reburial.

I also recall, about ten years ago, when a deadly cabin fire took the life of a baby. It must have been a very hot fire because there was nothing left of the cabin but ashes. It was located next to a big field that I used to work in. Well, one night not long after that fire, as I was irrigating the field, I clearly heard the cries of the baby that died in that fire. The cries lasted for about seven minutes. I wasn’t scared, but soon after I heard the baby crying, a pack of coyotes surrounded me. I decided get away from the coyotes. As I began to leave the field, one coyote that must have been the leader, came forward and followed me as I walked away. At the time I was carrying a gun, so I raised the gun, showing it to the coyote. When it saw the gun, it backed away.

As a child, I grew up knowing the stories of “messengers” that take the form of owls. These owls roost high in the trees. They hoot to get the attention of a person passing by. I was told that this sign is a message to the person, to let them know that something is soon going to happen to them. A death will take place, of a cousin or someone close to the person. Whenever I see these owls, I chase them away. I throw rocks at them until they fly off.

There were also times when I would see figures of people walking down the road and I would hear people talking behind trees. Even though I could see that there was no one behind the trees, I could hear their voices speaking to one another. All of this never scared me. Recently in our kitchen we have experienced strange things. In the evening, as soon as my wife and I go to bed, noises will start. We’d hear footsteps walking slowly in the living room and then in the kitchen. The ghosts would turn the water faucets on and off, and we’d hear the saltshakers being moved about the table. It’s a real loud noise that the ghost makes. These ghosts seem to always be around. I guess they want to do what they did while they were alive. But like I said, I’m not scared.”