I was born in Panama, but when I was old enough, I left for the USA. I didn't want to go back there. Not to see family, not to reminisce. I never felt homesick. I just didn't want to go back. My fault... My choice and I had a good reason. I still have many family members in the old neighborhood, but am reluctant to place myself back into some painful, still very raw memories.
After all, experiencing the supernatural, especially if attacks are involved, it's not a pretty bunch of memories. But, My Father lives there. He fell in love with the Canal Zone, when he worked as the U. S. Postmaster. He gave up his U. S. Citizenship to stay there, after the U.S. Ended the affiliation with the Panama Canal.
It is an extremely different Panama these days, more like a third world country, and I worried a lot about my Father. Lawlessness is rampant, and there were times my father had to hide in the closet. It's like living in a war zone, with Police stations on every block. Gunfire is a weekly affair, but he refuses to leave his life as he knows it. My Father is getting up there in years, and he gets more stubborn with each day. I was running out of excuses. Time was ticking, and I knew I couldn't put off going for a visit any longer.
My Dad was thrilled to hear I was finally coming home. I hadn't thought of Panama, as home, not for a very long time. If my Father didn't live there, I would never look back.
I live in Hawaii, and it would have been great to bring my Father here, but he doesn't like to travel far. It is just too hard on his body these days. So, I sucked it up, and bought a ticket to Panama. In my heart, I knew it would make my Father happy, but I felt a sense of dread-all at the same time. I was not looking forward to being inundated with the endless visions of suffering.
Panama is a very poor country, more so than ever, since the USA pulled out of there. The street beggars really pull at your heart, and a lot of them die out there. On the sides of the roads, you see them. The fallen ones who have expired from disease, violence, lack of mental health care, old age, dementia. I saw it all, and I wanted to keep the past, in the past.
It had been thirty-eight years, and it was time to go back and face my demons... It was time to go back, and make an old man happy. You see, I have the gift of "second sight", Some call it clairvoyance. I call it a burden, at times.
Anyway, I got on the plane. This was one plane ride I absolutely did not enjoy! The memories came flooding back, and I forced them away with reading. When I grew tired of reading, the airline DVD player kept me entertained.
Upon landing, my body was wiped out, so I said a quick prayer for strength. After I collected my luggage, I pushed my way past the crowd, and went through the passport entry gate. The usual questions were asked, " why are you here... How long do you intend to stay, etc." and I was free to go find my Dad. I spotted his big old smiling face- in the masses of bodies. He was waiting behind the fenced exit area.
It was affecting me already, and my skin was crawling with goose bumps. Not a good sign. I couldn't wait to get out of there. The air conditioning wasn't blowing out cold air, but a kind of clammy coolness that made the air feel heavy. My Dad greeted me with a big hug, and his wife, Ely-kissed me on the cheek. They both wrapped their arms around me, and everybody was filled with the joy of being reunited.
It was a feeling that would leave me-the moment I stepped outside the airport terminal. It was like stepping into an endless bog. The ghostly images of men, women, and children surrounded me. It was horrible to hear them, and I tried to tune them out. They pulled at me, called to me, crying and screaming for help. I pretended not to hear them. Only a few of my family members know about my gifts and my Dad-wasn't one them. My dad and I carried my few suitcases, and Ely, his wife- followed behind us.
She chattered away, her high pitched excitement, was a bit over the top. She talked away, telling me what they had planned for me, and I barely heard her. My head was pounding with all the stimuli being pushed onto me. My focus was to get into their car, and leave behind the spectral people.
There were too many to count. Broken boys in their teens, Toddlers in dirty diapers, Old men with festering sores on their lined faces, women-who sold their bodies on the streets for food money, I heard their cries of pain, sorrow, and frustration. It was overwhelming to hear, and my heart ached with knowing, I couldn't do a thing for this group. There were just too many of them, and they were pulling away my energy, my life force. It's hard to explain, but I will try.
One entity has the power to exhaust my living energy, my light/life force, my Aura. I don't have time to explain this here, but you can visit my web site to view my explanation, www.ghost-e.com, and I think you will gain a better grasp of what I was experiencing.
When we reached my Father's home in the Canal Zone, I was ready to drop from exhaustion. He showed me to my room, and I proceeded to unpack. Staring out the window, I wondered what would happen to me here. This vacation of two weeks-it could break me. I prayed for strength, and the ability to endure the onslaught of lost souls. I had no doubt it would happen, and soon.
I went to find my father, and we sat and talked for a short while. It felt good to be with my Father, and just-connect. I realized how much I missed him over the years. I vowed to make the time together, a good one.
It was a quiet, uneventful night. When I woke in the morning, my mind and body, was refreshed. The streets around my father's house were bustling with activity. I could hear people talking and laughing as they went to work. When I went to the living room, I looked out the window, and I could see them all... The living and the dead. The living went through their daily routines, coffee cups in hand, rushing to catch the next bus. The dead followed in envy. Deceased relatives and friends, enemies... They were there as well.
The house sat on a busy corner. And I was above the action looking down onto the morning crowds. The homes in Panama are built on stilt like footings. All of the homes have tiled, covered patios built beneath their residences. This is where people go to socialize. Cars are parked in one small corner, and the covered patio areas, are as big as the length/width of the home. The rainy seasons don't allow for much "outside" activity, so these underneath tiled areas, is a necessity.
I looked down at the sidewalk underneath the window, there were entities, fading in and out. They stood beneath the big picture window, and raised their hands to me. They knew I could see them. I turned away. It wasn't the time or the place. I spent the morning with my family, and then my father expressed a need for a nap. I asked Ely if she would take me to the Causeway, and drop me off."I needed to stretch my legs", I told her. She was happy to take me there, and we were in the car, on our way to the Causeway.
In Panama, the Causeway is a man made stretch of road, built over water. It dead-ends out over the water. I had had some scary experiences there, and I needed to face my fears. Ely dropped me off, and I had two hours to myself.
My emotions were whirling within the rushing memories. Especially when I caught sight of the buzzards flying over the city. Ely dropped me off at the entry of the Causeway, and it overlooked the Canal, with views of the city in the distance. I stood on the sidewalk, drinking it all in. Last time I had been there, I was playing along the canal. A big old parking lot had been my playground. No one used it then, and as I approached, I could see that no one used it now.
I spotted them right away. More Buzzards! They were in the empty, parking lot-picking away at a ghostly apparition. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This had to be third generation Buzzards and they were still trying to feed from the spectral image of a dead man. They would peck a couple of times, grow frustrated, and walk away. It was a horrible sight. I never forgot, it never left my Soul...
I remembered it all, as if it were yesterday, when I was very young, and found the bloodied body of a teen man. He was a beaten up mess, and his eyes were closed. I was exploring the old double decker bus, abandoned in the dirt parking lot, where I was playing. My parents were taking a walk along the Causeway, and had left me to enjoy my explorations. Back in those days, it wasn't so bad. Anyway, I chased the buzzards away, and it was quite a feat, since they were as tall as me. The buzzards were not happy to be chased away from their free food. Yes, they were feeding on him. I saw his chest rising up and down, and I screamed like there was no tomorrow. He was still alive, and they had been feeding of him! The worst part, there were these dark shadows seeming to hover over him, and they appeared to be encouraging the buzzards to come forward. They pushed at me a number of times. I wasn't hurt, but I still remember the feeling of utter darkness on my skin. It was the first time I had felt cold like that. It's the kind of cold that hurts through the bone.
I remembered the screams ripping from my throat. It was the worst thing I had seen to date and then-the man on the ground, he stopped breathing. I heard a kind of hiss as he exhaled his last breath. It was a terrible sound, but I knew he was dead. The buzzards grew brave, and I was being knocked around by their big wings. It stung as they hit me, but I kept fighting them back. At such a young age, I knew what they were doing was wrong, and I wouldn't allow it. I saw the adults running toward me. A policeman shot a gun over the water, and the buzzards flew away. Another policeman picked me up, and I collapsed in tears against his shoulder.
The shadows of the buzzards overhead, it haunted me, and I never forgot. They kept a close vigil then, and they were doing the same thing, as I walked slowly-to the spectral image on the ground. His eyes opened, and he lifted a hand to me. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was not a residual haunting, but an actual soul, who had been living this torment for...decades?
I took charge right away, and I knew my purpose. First thing I did? I took great pleasure in chasing away those big, ugly birds. This time, I wasn't a helpless child, and I was the one to tower over them. They flew away immediately, but stayed overhead-just watching me.
I told the young man he was not in bondage here. He looked puzzled. I asked him if he remembered me, and he looked into my eyes. He saw the little girl inside there, and he remembered. His eyes grew big, as he didn't quite understand yet, but I would help him understand. Telling him what year it was, and that his physical body had been lain to rest a long-long time ago, he started to shake. Tears brimmed over with realization, and I kneeled before him. Explaining things to a ghost, who is just beginning to understand he is not a physical being any longer, well, it's tough.
The rest? I saw him get up off the ground, and in surprise, run his hands all over his ethereal body. The wounds were no longer there, and his face took on a peaceful glow. A smile began when he saw who was waiting for him. In the distance, above the water, I saw the images of four to five people. I could barely hear them calling out to him, but he knew who they were. Without another look at me, he took off running toward them. I could feel the love; I could feel the relief and joy. Within the moment of a soft sigh, he was gone.
Struggling to get back onto my feet, I stood up tall, I felt empowered. I brushed the soil off my sore knees. My eyes took in the beauty of the Panama Canal, and I realized, I was no longer afraid of this place. My Soul felt lighter than it had in years! I smiled at the buzzards flying overhead. They were just-birds.
I was ready to face it all. " Bring it on..." I whispered. I felt...good