The Host: A Narrative Possession

 

Ezra Wasswa

"Stop! Don't throw it, please!" shouted the pupils while they ran in every direction. My friend Kenneth had become something unrecognizable, and the whole school was in shock and terror. Everyone was shouting as they ran away from the point of commotion.

"Kenny!" I yelled to my friend to see if I could get his attention. He had disrupted our usually joyful Easter Sunday service.

"Move out of the way, you kids!" shouted the teacher, who was in a wide stance, bracing himself to go head-on with Kenneth. Mr. Odeke was the chaplain and one of the bravest teachers at the school. These situations did not surprise him often, but this was a rare incident.

Kenneth threw the wooden desk towards the rest of the pupils and fell to the ground unconscious. On the ground, he convulsed as his eyes, white as snow, rolled in and out, and saliva dropped like a stream of water. Stunned, everyone stopped praying and scattered around like falling leaves in a storm. As everyone asked each other what was happening to him, some were laughing, whereas others were in a panic. Only a few of us knew what was happening to Kenneth because we had seen it before.

"You guys think this is a laughing matter, eh? I will slap all of you!" Mr. Odeke said angrily. Everyone stared at Kenneth as he writhed on the ground, his uniform filled with dust and sandals flung far from him. As he rolled on the dusty ground, as if he were being controlled by strings, he began mocking us in a demonic voice,

"You stupid people think you can trap me in school? You're joking!".

"Do we have any strong boys around?" Mr. Odeke asked. Normally, every boy would come forward when asked such a question, but fear had struck everyone to the core, to the point some had started shedding tears. I remember thinking to myself, this can't be real; it isn't happening. It's my buddy, he wouldn't... try to harm us.

Kenneth was no regular elementary school child. If you crossed paths with him, you would think he was a teenager; he was gigantic compared to the kids in school. He had scars on his head, arms, and legs from falling to the ground multiple times. He had one deep, diamond-shaped scar in between his eyes. It looked as if he had a third eye if observed from afar. Most kids feared Kenneth, but to me, he was just my friend. Kenneth and I were classmates in the same Ugandan boarding school. Whereas I was destitute, Kenneth came from a wealthy family, and I liked to listen to his stories about extravagant vacations. He'd generously use his own cash to buy us food from the canteen when we were hungry. Although I was not afraid of Kenneth, I knew something was unusual when he told stories about the family's witch doctor. Kenneth told me that before he was even born, his parents had dedicated him to an evil spirit in exchange for wealth.

"What happened here? Can I get an answer?" Mr. Odeke demanded. Everyone kept quiet for a moment, and then someone shouted from the back.

"Kenneth has fainted out of nowhere after eating a large bowl of cornmeal." Everyone in the back laughed at the idea that eating excess food could make someone act extremely abnormally.

"Stop making jokes, guys," I said. "My friend is not feeling well", I added, trying to make the situation seem lighter than it was.

"You seem to know what happened, young man. Aren't you friends with him?" Mr. Odeke said, singling me out. I looked behind me, not sure if he was talking to me. He then pointed directly at me. As I stood there with more than a thousand eyes staring at me, I just wanted to disappear into the hot Ugandan soil.

"Hey, you! Do not waste our time here; tell me what caused this commotion", he demanded of me.

"I... I just saw him move towards the desk," I stammered, not knowing what to say.

"Are you going to speak, or shall we settle this in my office?" Mr. Odeke said impatiently.  Knowing I had no choice at this point, I started explaining the whole story. Under their watchful eyes, I began to unravel the events that had led to this moment.

“It started with a strange feeling, a sense of unease...as everyone was praying” I lamented. "Kenneth started talking to me about Holy Week and how he did not know why there had to be multiple days to be celebrated.” He was upright, his eyes wide and unfocused, standing in a rigid posture. His head was also tilted slightly while staring directly into my eyes with an unsettling intensity.

 "Well, it's indeed awkward for you to start talking about that now in the middle of Easter service," I told Kenneth.

"I don't know, I just don't feel the vibe, man," he said jokingly. "I hate attending Christian services like this," he added. Then suddenly, he said, "I think I don't feel well at all, man".

"What do you mean? Let us pray about it," I hurriedly responded. At my offer to pray, he instantly scowled at me and laughed. "Look at you! What can you possibly do?"

Kenneth then moved slowly towards the front of the congregation as he squeezed through and pushed anyone in his way. I called him, "Kenny, yo!!" but to no avail. When he reached the front, he grabbed the desk, braced to throw it, before he collapsed to the ground.  

As I told my story, I was shocked to realize that Kenneth was up and standing right behind Mr. Odeke. "Look behind you, teacher! He is standing up again!" I shouted. Mr. Odeke turned around to find Kenneth, mouth wide open with saliva flowing like water. He stared at Mr. Odeke curiously as if he had never seen him before.

"You won't take away this body; his parents sacrificed it for me for wealth," he shouted in a distorted, guttered voice before pushing the teacher to the ground with the utmost force. Kenneth dropped to the ground once again. This time, it was like someone had flipped a switch to shut down his whole body. Mr. Odeke was terrified and could not move a muscle. I knew we had to go and give a hand to both. I called four friends to help me carry Kenneth. Even though we were extremely feeble, we had to carry our heavy friend. We picked him up and headed towards the sick bay to get treatment.

Mr. Odeke was also taken to the sick bay, as he could not say a word and his muscles were paralyzed. The school nurse called an ambulance, and Kenneth was taken to the hospital for further examination. Little did I know that I would never see my friend Kenneth again. I heard he was treated over and over, but his condition worsened, and he was later disowned and dumped on the streets. Last I heard, he was rummaging for food on the streets, acting like a madman. His father, a wealthy businessman, was robbed and killed in a shooting.

I often think about Kenneth and wonder if I could have done something more to help him that day. Even at a young age, I realized that Kenneth was an exceptionally peaceful person, and he was not to blame for his condition. I'd never seen him raise his voice, not even when he was frustrated. He'd just sigh or walk away, choosing quiet over conflict. Seeing him like that was like watching the shadow of someone I knew. The Kenneth I knew wouldn't hurt a fly. I do not know if he ever made it off the streets or if he died there. These unanswered questions have haunted me, and though I am far from home now, I yearn to go back to Uganda someday to minister to street kids. I could not help my friend Kenneth, but maybe I can help the next one.

Working with the Seven Dwarves

 

  Photo by Annie Vo on Unsplash

Carrie Davis

I weave through the customers and their carts like a fish, evading capture, twisting, and turning to avoid being run over by a preoccupied shopper. My coworker Ry looks at me, grins, and spins in a circle like a ballet dancer, making me giggle while mimicking my movements. She's not as graceful as they are, but her goal was to lighten the mood. I’m just trying to answer my calls for help from my coworkers without getting bumped up and bruised from carts, machines, and people alike. When we are busy this becomes a challenge just like a moment ago when I avoided colliding with the customers cart. This is a typical Monday morning and when you work for Wal-Mart, anything helps break the monotony. Working with associates like Ry, help the day pass faster. This is not always the case with the other workers with different personality types. I work with seven types of cashiers daily. Each one has a distinct personality. I like to correlate the personalities with the seven dwarfs from Snow White.

 

As I walk around to answer various questions, the first personality I run into is known as Doc. They act like the leaders. They have earned this title just for the fact that they have been here a long time. They are repetitive and stay on a set schedule with little to no variation.  When they train someone, they teach them the old ways, even when simpler ways are now available. Examples of this would be punching in produce numbers or memorizing them when we can just scan the barcode. In this case they needed a price check. She asked, “Could you run to the back of the store where automotive is and get me a barcode?” We have a nifty little button on our phones that do price checks for us, or we can look up a product and get the barcode for the product. So that's what I do. She then scans the barcode that is displayed on my screen. She knows about this technology, she just doesn't like to use it, so she calls us over to do it. Docs are dependable so if they miss more than a day of work we start to worry.

 

Next is Sneezy, just like the one on Snow White, you can tell these ones apart because they are always blowing their nose, using hand sanitizer, or calling off work. Most of the time it's allergies, but you would wonder how they didn't end up in a bubble to protect themselves. Though if they could sneeze hard enough to blow certain people away, I don't think that would be a total disaster, but unfortunately that's just not realistic. Today, he called me over just for a bathroom break. So, nothing is too serious. Though as he explains it, “I don't know what's wrong, I just can't stop peeing today. I swear I have an infection in my bladder or something.” I'm standing there thinking no, I'm sure it's the gallon of water you drank as you were walking in. All I say is, “I'll cover you, make it quick.” Once he's back, I move on to the next.

 

Now the handheld goes off and this is the one I don't want to answer. This is grumpy. These coworkers make the day drag. They have perpetual frowns on their face. They don't talk, but when they do, it's usually to complain. Their complaints can range from the temperature to the customers. It's never Gray, just black or white. This also means no matter how hard you try to please them, they will find the one thing you did wrong. The first words out of their mouth when i get there are, “What took you so long? It's been like 5 minutes. I already sent the customer up to the service desk. They just had a complaint for you. You can just go up there and get them.”  She then turns her back to me as I nod and head up to the service desk.

 

Up at the service desk, we have Happy. First thing in the morning, they greet you with not just a “hello”, but a “good morning, good morning, good morning” in a sing-song voice. This can drive people crazy, especially Grumpy. This person loves to laugh, joke with the customers and loves to talk to everybody. Their peppy attitude makes them a favorite of not only coworkers but customers as well. Just know if you try to have a serious conversation with them, they will usually find the positive, humorous side of it. I find her talking to the customer with the complaint. She has managed to oversee it and beautifully resolved the issue. The customer left with a smile, in a better mood than when they started. It just proves that a cheerful outlook can get positive rewards. I thank her for her help in resolving the matter and I head over to self-checkout.

 

I've gotten radioed by the management that I need to have a talk with Bashful. Bashful likes to stand at the podium. They don't like to initiate conversations but will open up if we talk first. They don't like to approach customers unless it's a necessity. This is what I need to talk to her about because we are not just supposed to stand at the podiums and that's what she's doing. I explained to her, “I need you to walk up to the customers and greet them. Please don't just stand up here.” She tells me. “OK.” quietly. It's difficult to hear them talk sometimes because they use a whisper when they talk. Customers tend to tell them to speak up. Once they get over their bashfulness, they are usually warm and caring.

 

Next, I get called over by Sleepy. They are always ready to go home and take a nap. They get anywhere from four to ten hours of sleep and will still crave their pillow and blankets. You may notice them from the constant yawning, stretching and dark circles under their eyes. “I just called you over to see if I could take my break early. I could really use an energy drink.” I look at my list and see that I have someone coming in the next 5 minutes. So, I let them know, “When they get here, I will send them over and you can take your break then.” With Sleepy, it may take them longer to act like their head is screwed on, but they eventually sort out the problems and get the job done.

 

Last but not least is Dopey. This is the one that makes your day go fast. They are full of energy, probably run off Energizer batteries. They just keep going and going and going. They try to entertain themselves by making random noises, faces, and gestures. Funny voices and random song lyrics are a part of their personality while they do their work. If they could be our mascot, they would hype people up. They tend to do random funny dances, have a joke or two and a smile to brighten anyone's day. In this case they come skipping in through the doors humming a little tune. Their energy is contagious, and they can play off other personalities as well. I smile and ask them, “Once you get clocked in, can you go take over for Sleepy so they can take their break, please?”  She does a happy little dance with a twirl and replies, “Ooh goody self-checkout, I love self-checkout!”

 

There you have it, the seven dwarves of Wal-Mart. Some cashiers will have multiple personalities, but there is usually one personality that is predominately first and foremost. Whether Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy or any of the others, it just depends on the day and the people around. When you get a bunch of Dopeys, the day goes fast. But, if everyone is grumpy, you can plan on a day that drags on for what feels like eternity. Every day is a new day and a different personality. For the people who work at Wal-Mart, these different personalities help keep boredom at bay.

Go Grab The 22

Kendall McClintock 

When I was a little girl, I begged my parents to get goats. I made a PowerPoint and explained why it would be the best choice for us. I did not convince them, though many years later we would get them, and it would be the start to our ranch. The ranch would grow, and soon adapt into a farm as well, something my dad had always dreamed of. Working on a farm and ranch is not as simple as many people believe. There are a million different jobs, and different things that must be done. I have seen myself working as a veterinarian, a maid, an uber driver and a hunter. The work that comes from all these jobs sum up the wonderful, crazy, and hard job of working. 

When I was a kid begging to get goats, I never would have thought I would be giving shots, helping give birth, or castrating a boy. The day I realized having goats was not for the faint of heart was when I had to help a goat give birth, all by myself. I was home alone, and I knew the goats were getting close to kidding. I assumed that it would be okay and that I would not need to worry. When I went down to check on the goat, her name is Skittles, I noticed she was acting strange, getting up and down over and over, and she kept bleating quiet loudly. I went back up to the house and called my mom. I explained what was happening and was told she was kidding. I freaked out I had no idea how to help or what to do, but I knew I could not leave her alone. 

I stood there with a towel as the first baby came out, I wiped my nose so it could breathe and brought the baby up to its mother's face. She cleans it off and I wait to see if another kid was to be born. To my surprise another two pop out with me repeating the same process as before. The birth is mostly over now, so I moved the goat into a more shaded area. This is important as it was incredibly hot that day. I leave her alone as I do not want to stress her out and come back in around 15 minutes. When I returned a fourth baby is now on the ground that looks nothing like its siblings. At first, I assumed it was the afterbirth, but as I got closer it was a tiny baby. I rush to grab a towel to wipe its face and calm down a little.
After this moment of dealing with bloody and sticky goat births my viewpoint on animals shifts. I realize the “miracle of birth” is a little bit less of a miracle and a lot more of a hot mess. It is good that I am not a veterinarian, and I do not have to deal with this daily, but I am not a stranger to cleaning up messes. 

The messes that occur in our shop are quite different to the ones the goats leave. This is where the role of maid comes in. Every week there is a new vehicle in our Quonset. The vehicle may be a car, a tractor, or a combine. There are so many unusual parts to these vehicles all of which need to be cleaned when taken apart. This past summer for example my dad and I pulled apart the entire engine of a tractor. We had to clean the cylinders, the gaskets, and the bearings. As a farm hand it has always been my job. Hours and hours were spent every day of the summer getting everything cleaned up and put back together. I probably made a good 1000 dollars on this job alone. When something needs cleaning the easiest thing to do is grab engine starting fluid and the best towels in the world, blue ones. Then you spray and spray until all the grease, dirt, and debris is washed away. This may take a few minutes or a few hours. Then after all that the real clean up begins. Sweeping up the dirt and throwing away all the towels. Everything must be spotless. When everything gets put back together a new job begins.

The next job is an Uber driver. Which is the easiest job on the farm, but the one that takes the longest? When moving from field to field you must have somebody leading you. This means having a vehicle in front of the combine or tractor to make sure that other people on the road are safe. I have always been the best driver of the children in my family and lead better than anyone, says my father. This is why when we must move, I am the one who hops in the pickup and keeps everyone safe. This is a boring job, but also important as it keeps the other drivers from hitting the farm machinery. The closest call I had was when I was sitting on top of a hill, where no one was coming from the other direction. My dad was behind me in a combine, and I was looking back at him. All of a sudden, I heard a cars horn and saw a semi-truck right in front of me. I quickly pulled the car into reverse and got out of the way just in time. I also give my family rides quite frequently to and from the fields as well as parts stores, and different states to pick something up. One of the strangest jobs that I have ever done was being a hunter. You may be thinking of hunting deer, birds, or something else that is commonly hunted within our area. However, I have found myself hunting down two dogs that came onto our property. 

This all started when I came home from school one day and found two dogs walking around our property. One was a Great Pyrenees and the other a husky. They were friendly and allowed me to pet them, so I brushed them being there off. I then made my way down to our goat pens like I did every day after school, but something was off. The male goats all seemed frightened, and I noticed one laying on the ground. As I got closer, I noticed the goat was dead, but not from any injuries. Tears streamed down my face as I investigated further. I walked around the pen and noticed dog and goat prints circling it repeatedly. I knew immediately what had happened. 

I yelled for my dad, and he investigated what had happened with me. His expression was pure anger as this was a well-liked goat on our property. We ran inside and grabbed a 22-caliber rifle. We got into a vehicle and chased after the now running dogs. They went into a field, and we got out with the weapon. My dad lined up the gun and aimed it first at the husky. The dog went down and the other just kept running. At this point we drive a ways down the road in the hopes of intercepting him on the other side of the field. 

When we get there, we set up and wait. This is when we hear a vehicle come behind us and a woman get out. She pulls up a picture of two dogs and asks us if we can see them. My dad does,” Yeah we are hunting them right now.” If you could see the look on this woman's face as she realized that. We then see down the road the dog comes running over. The woman begs us not to shoot him and we agree sparingly. We inform her about the other dog, and it seems as if she does not care. She asks us to dispose of the body, not caring if it gets buried or not. This is when the reality of what we did hits me. Yes, the dog killed our goat, but it seems like this was the dogs escape from a home where he was not wanted. 

I am a farmer and a rancher I have worked for several years now and have experienced some crazy things. My jobs are peculiar, and the ones described do not even explain everything. I have seen myself working as a veterinarian, a maid, an Uber driver and a hunter. These things all describe the first job I ever had, getting to work with my family and accomplishing something great.