The Ghost of Mação

It was an early autumn morning in 2004. An old lady was walking through the cobble-stoned street, near her home in Mação. As was usual for the place and time, the road was silent and deserted. It was then that she came face to face with the ghost.

The ghost was very dark and wore a white tunic and was walking towards her. Then it spoke. She ran inside her house slamming the door behind. The petrified lady later told the mayor of the town that the ghost tried to follow her inside and in fact knocked at her door.

The ghost now teaches at the Department of Anthropology, Delhi University. His name is Manoj Kumar. Manoj was among the first batch of students of the Erasmus Mundus Maters program that came to in Mação. And thus was Mação, five years back, with rarely any contact with the world outside Portugal.

I cannot say how Manoj or the others came into terms with the town. Manoj later told our course director Luis Oosterbeek (A man with a sunshine smile :) Oosterbeek is the son of a Dutch father and an Indian mother.) that the incident took him also by surprise. Manoj was used to seeing friendly faces in Mação. Was the old lady being racial or very ignorant? Was it just the unfamiliarity of Manoj’s brown skin and clothes that scared her?
Oosterbeek says that bringing Mação into the fold of the program, has transformed the little town in many ways….from a persistent sleep to a gentle wakefulness. A few more shops… a new entry in the municipality’s guide book… a sunny day when the archaeologist and the townspeople filled entire walls of the town with ‘rock’ paintings.

I have found Mação to be a friendly town. Strangers greet you on the way and are ever ready to help. I am yet to meet screaming old ladies fleeing at my sight!


PS: The house that I have rented with two of my classmates has a ghost of its own. The day we entered the house we saw the portrait of a little girl facedown. She has the scariest blue eyes. And the door to Daniela’s room said ‘Qqarte de Marta’ (Marta’s Room). Well ..lights flick on and off as they please and the doors slam shut a bit too much. We call our house Casa de Marta (House of Marta) and all is well.