Spooked
Hosted by Glynn Washington
We all have ancestors... but on a Musambwa Island in Uganda, those ancestors are a little sssuspicious.
4,004 words · 4 speakers
Speaker names marked ? are inferred from speaking time and the show’s known hosts — they are not voice-verified.
I think I heard of something.
I think that you should check. Cause last time I heard something, something bit me in the neck.
You fast over this book? Stay tuned.
Some of my extended family, they're amateur genealogists, and I am thankful for them. Grateful that they have done the work tracing our lineage.
Sometimes they send charts and pictures in the mail detailing where we came from.
Where my grandmother was born, who her mother was, her father, her father's father, even uncovering long-lost pictures.
Fuzzy, defiant, black and white photos with proud people grinning back out at their descendants, at us.
People barely one foot out of slavery. People for whom this photo, decked in their Sunday finest, would have cost a full week's wages of labor under the hot sun, but they insisted on taking this picture anyway.
That's how important it was that we know and stare back at them and see my chin, my eyes, my nose, there. My grandmother. Here, my great-great-grandfather. And one single picture of my great-great-great-grandfather.
And then, nothing. Everything. Everyone. Lost to time. Buried under the middle passage where we've tried to connect the dots to no avail.
I want to know their stories, I do. I assume they loved, they lost, they had both joy and pain. We certainly looked the same. I'm guessing they were just like me, only in very different circumstances. I learned very recently that other people, they don't make this assumption.
In fact, they know with absolute certainty that their ancestors are something altogether different.
Spook Starts, now.
Now, humans, we like to think we can contain, decide, control things. Even our relationships with who and what we're for. The ancestors. And today, for a special episode, we're taking you all the way to Uganda. Our producer, Lulu Jemima, brings us a story that demonstrates who is really in charge.
Spooked.
Amanya Gange, yenzé intale Enoka. Mpeza emiaka makumiya namuena.
Meet Enok, he's a 44-year-old fisherman.
Omlimo guange guenkola, ndimo vovi.
We first met at a bar in the village of Malimbo, on the shores of Lake Victoria. On the table was a plate of two large deep-fried fish. He insisted that I eat both during our interview.
Nakuli la mucha loba chi ita Namulugue.
I grew up in a village called Namulugue.
As a kid, we didn't eat much fish. Most of our meals were from our garden, like beans and greens.
Tata waange yalimisajamlimi wa mwane.
My dad was a coffee farmer, and he could only buy fish once a month during the harvest season. So whenever my mom cooked fish, all my siblings and I gathered around her and she would order us around.
Gundi gano de tere yobutunguru, gano de tere yobunza, gano de tere yamazi.
"Go and bring me onions, get me spices, get me water." We'd go running because we believed that whoever helped her the most gets the biggest piece of fish.
So as coffee farmers, our family was not rich. They couldn't afford to send me to school. I had to drop out because my parents could not pay the tuition. That's when my brother asked me, "Do you want to work for me on my fishing boat?" I thought about it. If I became a fisherman, I could eat all the fish I want. So that's what I did.
Lake Victoria is deep and the waves can get big. Not the kind of water for easy fishing, especially if, like Enok, you can't swim.
When we go fishing, we usually set sail at 6:00 PM in the evening. We packed our food, we put tea in plastic bottles and wrapped them in blankets. Then, three to four of us would take turns rowing.
During the coldest nights, we lay grass on the floor of the boat for extra warmth.
Once we get to the fishing spot, we drop our nets in the water. Then we eat some food and fall asleep while one person keeps watch.
In the middle of the night, we wake up so we can pull the nets back in with all the fish. Then we row back and return to the mainland between 5:00 and 8:00 AM.
When Enok gets home, he's cold, wet and tired, but...
One of the best things about being a fisherman is that you always have the first pick of the fish. Sometimes you catch enough to share with your friends, then you sell the leftovers. Also, I was introduced to all types of fish which I had never tested, like... The mamba, the African langfish.
I remember the first time I saw the mamba. It was long with soft scales. It looked like a snake. At first, I was scared to try it, but it was tasty.
I loved fishing because it wasn't your typical job. When you return in the morning, you cook, you wash your nets, then you can just sit around and hang out.
I loved it, especially at midday when the sun was brightest.
But of course, the excitement were off. Not only was catching fish not always guaranteed, it was hard work. Enok's brother's boat had no engine, and it took a lot of energy to row to the best fishing spots on Lake Victoria.
Many nights, we paddled relentlessly to row against the wind. A boat with an engine only needs one fisherman to navigate. But my brother's boat needed three to four vases to stay on course.
Then one day, my brother tells me that he's giving up fishing for good. It was too exhausting.
He was impatient because he wasn't making enough money. He was gonna go back to being a taxi driver.
You know, I left home to fish. I didn't qualify for other jobs and, plus, I had a girlfriend waiting for me back in my hometown. When I left the village, I hoped to come back a different man. I had to return at least with new shoes and clothes.
So I begged my brother to leave me his boat, and he says, "Okay. I just have to pay him a cut of any fish I catch."
After Enok's brother went home, Enok made a new fishing friend. And then one day, this friend tells Enok about this really, really good fishing spot.
The place is called Musambwa Island.
This island is pretty close, only 45 minutes from the mainland. We wouldn't have to struggle as much with our engineless boat. Here, you can fish without having to row very far.
I was intrigued.
Musambwa is a small island on Lake Victoria. Only five acres wide and three miles from the mainland. About a hundred fishermen live and work on this island. Anok's friend was right, the fishing there was great. But, there was just one catch. Well, more than one.
The first thing I heard about the island is that everyone lives and sleeps outside. There are no homes. Some build little shacks out of sticks and plastic sheets. But everyone sleeps on the ground. I wasn't sure if I could handle that.
Then my friend tells me.
Women aren't allowed on Musambwa Island. My friend tells me that many, many years ago.
That there was a man who brought his wife to visit him on the island.
They made love, and that made the spirit of the island mad with envy.
Out of nowhere, it became very, very, very windy. But only where the husband and the wife stood. The air everywhere else was still.
Then the wind blew and lifted the boat into the air and smashed it against the rocks. Right where the man used to dry his fish.
From that day on, no woman was ever allowed to visit the island. Ensuring that the spirit would never get angry again.
So, I did not really care that women were not allowed because I already had a girlfriend, who I thought about all the time. Still, I wondered...
Why would I want to be anywhere with no women around?
I also wondered the same thing, but Enok hadn't had the worst yet.
I heard that this island is crawling with snakes, at least a thousand snakes. Also, it's not just any snake.
This island is filled with forest cobras.
Forest cobras grow up to six or seven feet long, some even longer. Musambwa is where these venomous forest cobras come to breed. In fact, it's the biggest cobra breeding colony in Africa.
No birds, no women? Enok was actually okay with this, but the snakes? That was the deal breaker.
When I was a kid, there was nothing I was afraid of more than snakes. My dad's coffee farm was full of them. All I had to do was hear someone say, "There's a snake!", and I'd run for the hills. Sometimes we pretended to be brave, like kids do. If we knew there was a snake around, we grabbed sticks and stones and say...
"Where is the snake? Where is the snake? There, there it is!" Once we found it, we'd start chasing it, but we were too scared to actually get anywhere near it.
Despite Enok's fear of snakes, his friend was like, "Don't worry, these snakes are different."
The word "Musambwa" means "spirit."
The people here believe that these spirits protect the island, so they don't fear the snakes. When they see a snake, it's a blessing. It means they will catch lots of fish, so no one is allowed to harm the snakes on the island, ever.
Now, I am a born-again Christian. In my church, they taught us that snakes are evil. When we pray, we cast snakes as evil spirits. So I never imagined I would ever set foot on an island full of snakes. But my friend told me that there was so much fish at Musambwa.
When he said that, it made me happy, because I loved money. I needed money, so I decided, "I'm just going to deal with the snakes."
Enok packed a jacket, a bed sheet, hot tea, and a flashlight. Then he headed off with his friend to make his fortune on Musambwa Island.
In the morning, I see that we are approaching Musambwa.
You hear the birds singing, you hear the waves crashing on the rocks. What a sound! I am so nervous. When our boat pulls up to the shore, the fishermen, who are on the island, gather around us.
Then they ask us if we have any fish to eat. We do not.
Omani empisayo kunyandja, emave kayo mina.
So, there's this old tradition among fishermen, that you never eat alone. Everybody brings his fish, you chop kasava, cook all the fish in the same pan, and you eat together.
Meriyaba vuvigeva ita echibero.
This meal is called echibero.
So I sat down with the group, but I can't help but look around. My eyes are darting left and right.
Then one of the men notices this and says, "Don't worry, you'll see the spirit of the island before you leave." What?
As we are sitting there eating, one of the other men suddenly shouts,
"Ah, Jaja Uyo."
Ah! These Jaja.
In Luganda, Jaja can also mean grandparent or elder.
Zenechi wokantunulilo, muntu mukadegueva ita Jaja.
Then I turn around, expecting to see an old man that they are calling Jaja. But instead,
Nakeindo kulaba mukuanogu angenganso.
I turn to see my friend pointing at this snake.
Sotanga mulede.
The snake is so big! It's black and white, about four meters long and as thick as my forearm.
Nakeindo kulaba angakusembira, angakusembira.
It is slowly slithering towards us, closer and closer. It's only about three feet from where we are sitting. I know a snake bite is fatal unless someone ties a cloth around you and rushes you to hospital. I wonder how I would leave the island.
As I'm looking around, I noticed that the other guys aren't scared of the snake.
They aren't startled, they have no fear. They are just sitting, they are all relaxed, eating. But me, I lift my legs in the air, my body is shaking. I cannot eat, I want to vomit.
So I start praying, just keeping my eyes on the snake.
Then slowly,
the snake passes right by where we were sitting.
Then it goes to a nearby tree. By this tree, there is a nest of ducklings. Suddenly, the snake just snatches one of the ducklings into its mouth. The man who owns the ducks shouts at the snake.
Another person says, "Ah, Jaja has taken her reward." The snake just swallows the duckling and leaves. My appetite is gone.
Enok and his friend immediately jumped back into their boat and rowed back to the mainland. He was done. Yet still, he felt like Musambwa Island was calling him back.
I was getting desperate, I needed money. But some nights, it was just too windy. Our boat had no engine, so it was hard to row to where there was fish.
So, I decided, I'm gonna go back to Musambwa. At least, there is fish there. I'll spend a week at most, catch all the fish I could, then leave.
We arrive at Musambwa Island in the evening. As soon as we put our net in the water and pull it out, we can see all the fish eyes. That first night, we caught about 150 fish.
You know, fishing is all about luck.
One day you can catch 10 fish, another day you can catch 8, sometimes you catch 100.
Even with all the good luck, Enok refused to spend a night on the island. Instead, Enok and his friend slept on the boat for two more nights before returning to the mainland.
In the morning, we sell all the fish. Then we rest. Then my friend leaves to visit his family and I pay my brother for using his boat. I was now a boss.
Enok was hooked. Having all this money for the first time in his life made him forget about the snakes. He decided, "Why not? I'll sleep over."
The first time I spend the night on the island, I stay in a shack with three other guys.
That evening, we gather grass and lay it on the ground. Then we put plastic bags on top to make it like a bed.
We start winding down by listening to the radio.
At 10pm, the guy who owned the radio turns it off.
All you can hear is the waves crashing on the rocks, the engines of the boats on the water. But snakes, they don't make any sound.
Everyone falls asleep, but I am wide awake, holding my little flashlight, shining it all around the shack. I am so terrified.
You know, snakes like to hang out in warm places, like our shack. There is no place where they can't reach. They can get to the roof or crawl into your bed.
That made me even more scared. I literally can't think about anything else. I try to calm myself by watching the other men sleep peacefully. But the longer I watch them, the more I panic. I wonder which one of us will be the first to run out of the shack. The other men are older and stronger than me. They can easily push me aside and leave me alone with the snake. If I die here, no one will find me.
But sleep finally took me away.
When I wake up, I am still holding the flashlight. The battery is dead.
In the morning, I go to wash my face in the lake. And there, I see a snake. It is so big and black, and its head is lifted up, and its tongue is sticking out.
The men told me that
if you see a snake in that state, it's hunting. I freeze.
But the snake does not bother me. It just continues moving and goes away. What gives me strength to push on is thinking about all the fish we're gonna catch.
The next day, the other guys start teasing me about sleeping with a flashlight on.
Ba sekeri, lam sekeri.
They just laughed at me. Even I start feeling like I'm being silly. So that night, I decide to go to sleep with the flashlight off.
It's about 1 or 2 AM when I wake up. I can hear the other men snoring. All of a sudden...
I feel something heavy on top of the blanket. I open my eyes and lift my head, but I can't see anything. It's too dark. Now there is some light from the stars outside, but not enough for me to see what is on top of me.
So I take out my flashlight and shine it all around the shack. I'm trying not to panic. That's when I see this snake. This large cobra is slithering all over my stomach.
I was filled with fear. All the energy drains from my body. I can't even keep my head up. I think, "Jaja uyo, jaja uyo." That's Jaja. That's Jaja. I think about waking up one of the men, but what can they do? They believe the snakes are spirits and will probably celebrate. Then I think, "What if there are some more snakes outside? I wonder if the flashlight is attracting them to me." I freak out and pull the blanket over my head. The snake slowly slides off my body.
I pick out of the blankets.
I grab my flashlight and turn it on. I see the snake slithering out of the shack.
The snake isn't even looking at me. I can only see the tail as it disappears into the darkness.
I spend the rest of the night praying.
In the morning, I tell the men, "The island spirit, Jaja, visited me last night."
One of them laughs and says,
"Ah, that was nothing." The next time,
you might wake up with a snake coiled under your head like a pillow.
That was it for Enok. First to face with the island spirit was too much. He rode straight back to the mainland where he'd be safe from snakes. But Musambwa never left his mind.
On the island, life was simple. When the boats arrive, the other guys help remove the nets and we count the fish for sale. When all this is done, we clean up and lounge around until it was time to fish again.
But on the mainland, things were different. I had to hire fishermen who were not always reliable. The fish were scarce and the days felt long. Meanwhile, my brother was threatening to take back his boat.
As the days and weeks go by, I'd watch with envy as the fishermen from Musambwa sailed by, their boats heavy with fish.
Meanwhile, my pockets were so empty, I couldn't even afford to visit my girlfriend.
As I sat there with no fish, my thoughts drifted back to the island.
Musambwa, it didn't look or seem too bad. The island was actually a paradise.
Since I was young, I loved birds. Nearly 200,000 birds called the island home, and many of them were species I had never seen anywhere else.
Maybe I should go back to Musambwa. After all, paradise is worth a second visit.
After many months of struggling to make a living, Enok decided to go back to Musambwa Island, this time for good.
I've been on this island for over 20 years. Every single day, without fail, I have seen a snake. The snakes here, well, they have a mind of their own. They just show up in your house and announce, and they hang out for three days for free before leaving.
Now, I also own a little cabin on the island, just a small one, about 6 by 7 feet.
My house happens to be at a place that snakes love, thanks to all the ducklings that hatch nearby.
But now, even if a snake gets close, I'm no longer scared.
Sijia iiza kukuma katu uchi ngabwe na kola ange.
I no longer reach for my flashlight. When a snake decides to visit at night,
Gusikabula ange tiya ange kujongela kumutwe.
I just pull my blanket over my head, tuck it in on both sides so there is no room for a snake to slither in. And then, I just go back to sleep.
As you've heard, Ina has been working hard on Samwa for over 20 years. Throughout this time, his wife has never set foot on the island.
Although he will admit, when his oldest daughter turned 18, only because she was so curious about where he worked, he gave her a very, very, very, very, very brief tour of the island. And she was not allowed to spend the night. Thank you, Ina, for sharing your story. And thank you, Lulu, for producing this piece. Lulu is a storyteller and researcher living between Uganda and Germany. She's always looking out for new and exciting collaborations. So find her contact in our show notes. The original score was by Sandra Lasundu. It was produced by Lulu Jamima.
Now, there are such things in the world as bindings. We bind each other. Sometimes a promise, or even a meal. Often, we use a ring, a handshake, or simply a nod. And if we break these bonds, there's a price to be paid.
The thing is, we have long known that we can be bonded to forces, to entities that dwell in shadow, and breaking these bonds can exact extremely dire consequence. If you or someone you know is linked to forces they do not understand, forcing choices you barely comprehend. I, I really, really, really want to know about it. Please, send your story to [email protected] because there's nothing better than a spook story from a spooked listener.
Spook lies hidden in shadow, under a boiling sea of magic and mystery, cloaked by KQED in San Francisco. Please, don't seek to uncover the Passage Inn, lest the Passage Inn seeks to uncover you. A note to the tech overlords, the stoners, and all associated oligarchs. No Snap Studios content can be used for training, testing, or developing machine learning or AI systems without prior written permission on Team Spook. The union represented producers, artists, editors, and engineers are members of the National Association of Broadcast Employees and Technicians Communications Alliance of America, AFL, CIO, Local 51, and...
Spook just brought to you by the team that is on very good terms with their ancestors. Except, of course, from Mark Ristich. I have it on good authority that his ancestors are not pleased.
Yes, there's Davey Kim, Zoe Frigno, Eric Yanez, Marissa Dodge, Regina Berriaco, Miles Lassie, Teo Decot, Paulina Kriki, Elizabeth Z. Pardue, Aditya Matu, Lulu Jemima, Doug Stewart, Nicholas Smarts. The Spook theme song is by Pat Masidi Miller. My name is Sam Washington.
Then I don't know if my ancestors are watching me now, or not.
I have the sense that they are not far.
Or should I say, "We have not gone far"?
Their warnings are our reality. Instead of simply reading 1984, we are living it.
Overseers tell us official lies, not so that we believe, no. So we learn to cower from the truth.
Because the truth insists.
The truth is not pretty.
The truth makes demands. The truth understands that we have been here before. The truth knows that this is not the first time. We've had little girls hiding in attics while masked agent thugs lurk outside. The truth has seen the murder our heroes on the street before.
I don't wonder if the ancestors know this truth.
I wonder if they weep because we prefer lies.
Never, ever, never, ever, never, never, never, ever, never, never.
Turn out the lights.
Page updated October 30, 2026 · transcript and summary are machine-generated