Recently I watched the film titled, " I am ZoZo", and afterwards I was left very perplexed, and amazed.
I have never believed in ghosts, the supernatural, religion, or...well anything. I always thought once you're dead you're dead, you decompose and that is that.
Now, I wasn't perplexed and amazed because the movie was so awesome and gripping, the movie itself was boring and fairly terrible.I was perplexed and amazed because it confirmed an old story my father use to tell me, which, as a child I never took seriously at all.
My father is now an elderly man of 83, but back in his golden years, before us kids, he and my mother had their fair share of wild times.
My father himself does not believe in ghosts, even with his experience, and is far too old and disinterested in watching a crappy movie like " I am ZoZo". But he doesn't have to, he has his own tale to tell.
When I was 12 years old, my father once told me a story about the young days when he and my mother were dating. He told me that one night they both went to a friends house for dinner and drinks.
Later that night, when the dinner party seemed to be getting stale, someone suggested they pull out the Ouija board as a bit of a laugh and thrill. My mother refused to take part, as she was a true believer of the supernatural, but my father had no fear being a non believer.
He started out by asking if any one was there, and as a cheeky guy, moved the pointer himself, not fooling any one, he was told to sit to the side. His two best friends then carried on.
After some time, nothing much was happening, so they decided to pack it in. One of my dads best friends grab the box which the board was kept in, but just as he went to pack it up, with no ones fingers on the pointer, it seemed to slowly move.
Everyone sat and watched, except my mother who proceeded to leave shouting for my father to follow.
The pointed kept going to the same letters, W-A-I-T.
"OMG it's telling us to wait" said one of my fathers friends. He then asked, " so you do want to talk to us?" To which there was no reply. The second of my father's friends suggested to maybe put your finger on the pointed and ask again.
After this, both my fathers friends seem to have a conversation with a spirit who claimed to be called Tod, and who was a 8 year old boy who died after falling from a balcony. Tod seemed to be a very nice, polite, young boy who just wanted to chat. But after a while he just stopped talking.
One of my fathers friends asked if Tod was tired, and if so they would say goodbye.
That's when the pointed flew across the room. My father retrieved it, playfully hit his friend in the back of the head, and said " good one mate, I'm not buying your tricks, let's wrap this up and go to bed", he then dropped the pointed back on the board.
With everyone agreeing it was time to end it, and two of my father's friends rather pale from their experience, they attempted to pack it away for a second time. But, yet again, it started spelling out wait. "Tod, it is getting late and we must go" replied one of my fathers friends.
Again, it spelled out "wait".
"Wait for what Tod?" He replied.
"toe head? What do you think he means by that?"
Then after a short pause
"What the hell, I think he's trying to insult us" laughed one of my dads friends.
"Which one of you pricks is moving that thing?!" Asked my father.
"Neither of us, we swear John. What's the matter?"
That's when my dad stood up and said, " my father use to call me toe head. When he was angry, which was all the time, he would call me piss pot for always wetting my bed, and girls blouse for being scared of him".
"Is this still Tod?" Asked my fathers friend?
"Okay boys, stuff it I'm putting it away" said my father's friend.
"No, I'm going to give it a try" replied my dad.
Ignoring his friends suggestions to just leave it be, my father placed his fingers on the pointer.
From here on a long conversation followed. At first it seemed friendly Tod was back, but after awhile the insults began again.
The insults were more and more vicious.
Finally my dad had had enough, and started asking, "who the fu*k do you think you are?"
He continued to abuse thin air, no longer with his fingers on the pointer, when the pointer started directing itself to numbers, counting backwards. It then started very quickly moving from, what my father said, "O-Z-O-Z-O-Z.
My father kicked the board, stomped outside for a smoke.
This from someone who even after all that still does not believe in ghosts, still believes his friends were playing tricks on him. This story, which was told to me well before that crap movie ever came out.
My father still has no idea who zozo is and has never heard that name ever spoken.
My mother, however, always claimed there was a dark cloud over our family, and that strange noises always hunted her at night.
She believed a curse followed our father around and was the reason for many of his odd accidents over the years which left him seriously injured.