The Jumbie at the Crossroads

Errol had stayed too long at his cousin’s house, and now the sky was black and he had to pass the old crossroads to get home.

His grandmother’s words came back to him: “If ever you meet a jumbie on the road, child, don’t run and don’t scream. A jumbie feeds on fright. Mind your manners and keep walking.”

Sure enough, as he reached the crossroads, a tall shadow unfolded itself from under the silk-cotton tree. It had long, long legs and eyes like two cooling coals, and it stepped right into his path.

Errol’s heart was pounding fit to burst. But he remembered Granny. He took off his cap, gave a small bow, and said in the politest voice he could find, “Good night to you. I beg your pardon, but I’m only making my way home to my bed.”

The jumbie blinked. In all its long years it had heard plenty of screaming and seen plenty of running. Nobody had ever stopped to say good night.

It was so surprised that it did not know what to do. Slowly, it stepped aside.

“Thank you kindly,” said Errol, and he kept walking - not too fast and not too slow - all the way home, just as Granny had taught him.

Some say the jumbie still waits at that crossroads. But it never troubles the children who remember their manners.