Once in an Island

By Alvin Glen Edwards

The story is built around a Jamaican family who chose to leave Jamaica in search of a different life in another island; a small island as is referred to by many Jamaicans in condescension. They face challenges generated by their new environment and issues having its genesis in their own island.
It is filled with intrigue, love, determination, and exposes the vagaries of our political systems. It forces us to think about our relationships with one another. It is a story about relationships in the pursuit of our greatest ambitions in life and plays on the national sentiments that exist between island nations in the Caribbean. It shows love in its several forms; love of country, love of family, love for children, love for material things and erotic love as it expresses itself passionately and basely. It exposes the legal systems, as Marlene and Richard pursues justice for their loved ones and brushes against the democratic structures as inherited from the colonizers and adapted to existing circumstances. It makes us pause for a moment as we ponder about the need to respect the rule of law.
We experience a mothers overwhelming love and ambition for her offspring as it is firmly engraved in her childs mind and learn as we do time and again that, You can find a bad egg anywhere.
The story is built on reality, but is fictitious and set in a fictitious island. This is a story for the whole Caribbean as indeed the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456758103

Alvin Glen Edwards

AUTHOR BRIEF ‘Once in an Island’ 1st February 2011 Dr Alvin G Edwards is a medical doctor by profession, who has specialised in ophthalmology. He has always had a wide interest in the arts and has had formal training as an actor. He wrote a number of plays (unpublished) and acted on stage and in films. He played ‘Mr Benjamin’ in the television series ‘Paradise View.’ A native of the Caribbean, he has lived in St. Kitts, Antigua, Barbados, Jamaica, Nassau, Nashville and New York while in pursuit of his profession. He has always been sensitive to the struggles of Caribbean peoples and has had a burning desire to see that their story be told. He first wrote the screen play for ‘Once in an Island’, then decided to write the book as the essence of the story on the screen, even though entertaining, had left out some of the intricacies of the commentary due to time constraints. He wanted to capture more of the lessons to be learnt from the story and to give the reader a chance to see themselves and Caribbean people in a realistic, revealing and self-reflecting light. At present he lives in Antigua, and has been practising his profession between Antigua and St. Kitts for over twenty five years. He has the propensity to talk to his patients and any person he meets, about anything that affects their lives; their successes and their failures as well as their hopes and aspirations; their love for their children and their need to be loved; the sacrifices made for the well being of their loved ones; their love of country and their pride in their island. He has heard and experienced firsthand, that generally, political sentiment is central to the lives of many Caribbean people. Dr Edwards has also been involved in many activities outside of his profession that exposes him to other aspects of Caribbean culture, which include the organizing of sporting activities, a brief sojourn in politics and Chairman of the Romantic Rhythms International Music Festival in Antigua. Through all of this he has gotten a great insight into the history and traditions of people in the Caribbean including their innermost fears and desires. Though personal information of anyone’s experience is not revealed, it is upon these revelations that the story ‘Once in an Island’ is built. The author wishes to thank all those whose stories and experiences have contributed to this story.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

One early August evening in the year nineteen hundred and eighty one, events that unfolded before eight year old Marlene Johnson, who lived in suburban Kingston Jamaica would change lives forever.

In a middle-income neighborhood in Kingston stands a wall house where eight-year-old Marlene Johnson lives. The house is surrounded by a wall fence, enclosed in a yard that is filled with lush vegetation. A big mango tree is planted near the fence by the roadside and has branches extending all the way to the house, about fifteen to twenty feet away, with a large branch hanging over the roof.

Two big, black, fierce dogs run and bark playfully in the yard. Against a background of barks and squeals from other dogs and animals in the area is the gentle pulse of rhythmic music in the distance.

Inside the house on this night-to-remember, Marlene Johnson is lying in her bed, playing with her doll. She gets up and goes to the adjacent room where her mother is putting her brother, Charles, to sleep.

Good night, Mommy, she says.

Her mother responds, Good night, sweetheart, and then kisses her. Marlene goes back to her room and goes to bed. The lights go out, her mother settles in bed, and Marlene falls asleep in hers.

Outside the house, on the sidewalk next to the fence, a masked man—slender, dressed in black—lurks in the shadows. It is pitch black outside, further concealing his approach. The masked man climbs up on the wall fence, then onto the tree, and then onto the branch hanging over the roof of the house. He then lets himself down onto the rooftop as the dogs bark energetically in the yard below. He moves stealthily over the rooftop to a point above a window near the edge of the roof. He ties a rope around his ankles and onto the branch. He hangs down from the roof to the window, supported by the rope, and pries the window open. He pulls himself up, unties his ankles, and climbs onto the window sill. The dogs follow him, still barking but not enough to wake the family, who has become so accustomed to their bark that it had lost its startling effect.

The masked man enters the house through the window. Marlene’s mother is fast asleep in bed. The man moves through the house, enters Mrs. Johnson’s bedroom, jumps on her, and puts a knife to her throat. She struggles but can only muster a muffled scream.

Marlene is still asleep, her doll clutched close to her chest. The masked man overcomes her mother by delivering several blows to her head. She eventually stops struggling and starts to cry. She peeks across at her son in the crib and pleads, Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! Please!

Shut up! demands her attacker. He puts his hand over her mouth, tears open her night clothes with sheer force and, while sitting on her and holding her face with one hand, unbuckles his pants with the other.

Marlene is awakened by the commotion and muffled screams. She slowly gets up from her bed and runs to her mother’s room shouting, Mommy! Mommy! She stops and drops her doll as she sees the masked man on her mother, who is almost naked. He makes a move toward Marlene. Her mother, with all the courage she can muster, even though scared and helpless, tries to protect her daughter and shouts frantically, Run, Marlene, run!

Marlene picks up her doll and runs for the back door, screaming. She unlocks the back door hurriedly and races into the yard, straight toward the dogs. The masked man rushes behind her, but the dogs leap toward him. He narrowly escapes their wrath and hustles back inside the house.

Marlene, now relatively safe, remains nestled between the dogs as she looks toward the house and hears the occasional scream and cry of her mother. After what seems like an eternity to young Marlene, the masked man emerges from the window, lifts himself onto the roof, then onto the tree, and disappears into the darkness. The dogs patrol below, bravely protecting their best friend.

Marlene runs toward the house and then creeps toward her mother’s room. She looks in the direction of the muffled cries, not wanting to see the horror and fearing that horrible feeling her mother’s battered appearance will bring, yet caring enough to find her mother and offer help if she could. Her mother’s muffled cries get louder as Marlene gets closer to the room. She comforts herself with the thought that at least her mother is still alive. As she peers into the doorway, she notices first of all that her brother is still asleep in his crib.

Years later, as Marlene Johnson sat in the nurses lunchroom of St. John’s Hospital, events that had taken place in her childhood had come vividly to mind, as if it had been just a few hours ago. Her eyes opened wide, and she gasped sorrowfully as she relived the horror of that fateful evening, seeing her battered mother in tatters, brought about by that detestable thief of human dignity.

Another nurse, sitting and reading next to her, looked up at her as she gasped. You just had a nightmare, eh? asked the nurse. Or a day-mare? she chuckled.

A nightmare? I wish that’s what it was, responded Marlene.

Marlene, now a nurse, had grown into a beautiful young woman. She was tall, dark, and attractive, in her mid—to late twenties. She had a thin waistline and a butt that attracted second and third glances and that, as experience had shown, would get her both into and out of trouble. She moved toward the window, a tear trickling down her face, as she looked out and recounted the events surrounding her decision to leave Jamaica for work in another Caribbean Island.

It was at her graduation ceremony that she’d told Richard, her sweetheart, of her intention. She loved him dearly and felt loved by him, but flashbacks of her experience as a child, when her mother was raped, kept invading her mind within the last year—her final year in college. She seemed to have no control over it.

Along with graduation ceremonies, many important events happened in June and July. Her friends thought she was making a big mistake, because Richard was ready to pop the big question, and she was, her friends told her, just throwing away an enviable opportunity.

She could stay and start a family with Richard, but she felt if he really loved her, they could settle down anywhere after he graduated.

The nurses’ graduation ceremony was over. She was sitting next to Richard with a serious and determined look on her face. Folks were milling around, and Tech, as her brother, Charles, was now nicknamed, sat on her other side, playing with an electronic game.

Richard did not take the news well. He was shocked and dismayed by her decision and tried everything to dissuade her. She told him she would wait for him and had faith in their love. In that scenario, that was all he would have to hold on to.

She remembered waving goodbye on the stairs of the West Indies Airline jet at Norman Manley International Airport as she and Tech left. She later found out that Richard just stood there, looking into the distance as the jet flew off. He remained there late into the evening, until the gallery was almost empty.

She moved from the window and picked up the phone to call him. She hesitated then put it down. She just wanted to tell him she loved him. Later, she thought.

CHAPTER 2

The island where Marlene chose to emigrate was known as Antillia, an island paradise nestled in the north-eastern part of the Caribbean. The Caribbean islands constitute a chain of islands stretching from South America to North America. They form the eastern boundary of the Caribbean Sea. They are made up of about seventeen different nationalities; and as a casualty of their history, the indigenous people have either become minorities or vanished completely.

Antillia is located east of the Island kingdom of Redonda. The Island of Redonda is a small uninhabited Island about one mile long and one third of a mile wide. It is the rocky remnant of an extinct volcano. Columbus claimed the Island for Spain after he discovered it on his second voyage of exploration. He never landed on it however. No formal act of sovereignty took place until a wealthy sea trader, Dowdy Shiell, from the nearby Island of Montserrat, who claimed that he was a descendant of the ancient Irish Kings of Tara, declared himself king of Redonda in July, 1865. He landed on the island with some of his friends and family and formally claimed it as his kingdom. The British annexed the Island shortly after in order to exploit its rich deposits of phosphates. King Dowdy and his Royal family objected bitterly, but the British ignored their protests. The title of Monarch of Redonda having been established has had an unbroken line of kings to this day, though the Redondan Monarchy has been in exile.

Antillia is much larger than Redonda and boasts a population of about one hundred thousand people. The majority population of Antillia was of African descent; they affectionately called it the Island at the Rainbow’s Very End. It was an independent democracy, once a colony of a European empire.

The islanders were a very mobile people. Many of them traveled abroad for educational and employment opportunities, particularly to the United States and Canada and for the most part, they did not return. This created a vacuum that was filled by people like Marlene and others who came from abroad, mainly from surrounding islands and parts of South America.

The people basically were very friendly on a one-to-one basis, but there developed some tension against foreigners in general—some of the locals believed that the foreigners were too involved in their politics and that they supported one party above the other, thus influencing the outcome of their elections.

Still, there was relative peace and quiet on the island of Antillia. The crime rate was low, and it was easy to move about from place to place. There were no traffic jams, except for special events, like Test Match Cricket or Carnival; it was easy to get to and from work. For the most part, the distances were never too far, unless one lived way out in the countryside, so time traveling from place to place was never too long.

This ease of getting around and short distances to travel gave the average citizen more leisure time. Thus, it was possible for the people to become involved in extracurricular activities and to participate in endeavors of their choice on most days of the week. Some went fishing, some joined service clubs, some worked another job, some played sports, and some pursued higher education. Some became active in their church programs, and some got involved in political activities. Some frequented the bars and others, just plain lazy, did nothing but eat and relax. Such were the natural pulsations of island living.

Miss Priscilla James, the prison warden in this beautiful island, was one of those persons who got involved in political activities. She had a strong interest in politics and might be referred to as a political animal because of her overwhelming support for the political party that was in power. She lived in a nice house in a middle-class neighborhood. The streets were paved and lighted, houses had fences, and most residents kept a dog or two, usually of some pedigree. Her house was a two-story wall house in a fairly large fenced yard. She kept two Rottweiler dogs and had their kennel in a fenced area, where she kept the dogs when visitors or workmen were around.

Richard and Tech were painting a wall in Priscilla James’ house, while Marlene was at work in the Hospital. He had migrated to Antillia to be with Marlene. After she left he found it difficult to concentrate on his work. His mind would always wander on her. Images of her in compromising scenarios with other persons would steal into his thoughts and leave him jealous.

There was cloth on the floor to protect it from spilled paint. Richard was painting while standing on a ladder; he commented to Tech, his assistant, about his favorite pastime, cricket. Yes, man, Chris Gayle is my batsman. Gayle Force, they call him, you know.

Okay, responded Tech.

That series on in Australia now—man, he score a magnificent half century the other day.

Yes, man.

Richard was talking but kept on working. We went to the same school back in Jamaica. He something else, man. Richard kept on painting and talking about cricket; Tech, on the other hand, was restless. He stopped listening to Richard, stopped working, and wandered off into the house, just looking around curiously. On the walls he saw pictures of Priscilla James. She was in her mid-forties, attractive, slim, and medium height. She smiled on all sides of her mouth as she posed with the prime minister, a man in his fifties, tall, and distinguished-looking. There were pictures with others at political rallies. Interesting, he thought. He saw pictures of pretty women, posing half-naked, and no pictures of children or of a family.

He wandered into a room with electronic equipment. A fancy surround-sound system adorned a wall of that room next to a large television screen. A red light blinked near a pause button on the largest component of the system, to which all the other equipment was connected. That caught his attention. He furrowed his brow, put his hand on his chin, and looked at the system. What would happen if I put it on? he thought. He looked away for a moment, but his curiosity got the better of him. He put his finger next to the button, hesitated, and then pushed it.

There was an immediate explosion of sound as the television screen ignited with action—a combination of sound and video so impactful that he fell backward onto a chair, startled by the spectacle that unfolded on the large TV screen. He got up, shadow-boxing body blows into the air, grinning at first, and then putting a serious look on his face as he checked out the equipment.

Priscilla, in the meantime, was at work, preparing to leave for home, as the workday was almost over. She opened the door on which there was the sign Prison Warden and left her office. She got into her car—a spanking new SUV—and took off, driving past the sign on a pole marked Her Majesty’s Prison.

Tech rushed back to the area where Richard was working; he was out of breath and sweating.

What happen to you, man? asked Richard.

Tech did not answer.

You have me talking to myself.

Tech still did not say anything. Richard decided to ignore him and inspect his work instead. The workday was almost over.

Tech finally showed some respect. Sorry, man, sorry, he mumbled.

Priscilla turned from the highway onto the side street of her residential area and then drove into her yard. The dogs in the pen started to bark and wag their tails.

Richard and Tech were cleaning up as she walked in. She greeted them with Good afternoon.

Richard and Tech replied, Good afternoon, Miss James.

She inspected their work and then asked about the contractor to whom she’d given the job of repairs.

Richard replied, He left us to finish up. We are cleaning up now.

Looks good, she said as she moved into the kitchen. Remember to close the gate on your way out.

Tech appeared impatient; he cleaned hurriedly and asked Richard over and over again, You ready? Let’s go! Richard looked at him with a mixture of puzzlement and disgust. In the kitchen, Priscilla, wearing gloves, had put out the food for the dogs. She exited the kitchen and went to feed the dogs in the kennel. She left the gate to the kennel slightly open and looked around. Everything looked safe. She put down the food, and the dogs began to eat.

The young men appeared from the front of the house and headed to their car. It was an old beat-up car made in one of the Asian countries. Richard had managed to buy it with his college tuition money.

Tech was in front, hurrying.

Good afternoon, Miss James, said Richard as he waved to her. The dogs’ ears perked upward. Priscilla waved back and looked at them for a moment. Suddenly, the dogs stopped eating their food, pushed the unhooked gate open, and raced out of the kennel, straight to the young men.

Priscilla ran behind them. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Max! Beth! Come back here! she shouted as she ran after them. Her dogs were really bad. She had taken every precaution to prevent them from biting persons who entered her yard at her request. She had had a problem with them before. Two young men had entered her yard with the intention of stealing her weedwacker and other items from her garage when the dogs attacked them. They mauled them badly and seriously damaged the right arm of one of the men. He brought a lawsuit against her. At first she looked at it laughingly knowing full well he had come to steal. To her surprise she had to settle with them for the judge pointed out she should have had a sign at her gate warning of the bad dogs; a requirement of common law. She thought it outrageous but had to pay anyway.

The dogs caught up with the young men, who narrowly escaped only by jumping onto the roof of the car. She sighed relief.

Priscilla caught up with the dogs around the car but was puzzled by their behavior; they had never done anything like that before. Max! Beth! What’s wrong? The dogs patrolled around the car, growling and barking, sometimes regarding the trunk and other times the men on the roof. Priscilla became suspicious. What’s in the trunk, she inquired.

Tech was disgruntled. Tools! What you expect? he growled.

Open it! she insisted.

I can’t open it from here! Tech replied. Tech’s behavior appeared mysterious. Richard felt it necessary to intervene.

Ma’am you can open it from inside, he advised.

No! No! Leave it! growled Tech.

Richard had had enough of this. Look next to the seat. You see the lever? Pull it. He then turned to Tech and inquired, What’s the matter with you?

Priscilla pulled the lever for the trunk and it clicked. Tech opened his mouth and made an effort to run, but the dogs jumped toward him, growling. She opened the trunk and then held onto her chest as she was startled by what she saw. Several components from her large surround-sound system were in the trunk of the dilapidated car.

CHAPTER 3

Richard and Tech sat handcuffed next to a desk in the police station. It was a large building that sported a large flag—the national flag of Antillia. Police personnel passed back and forth through a wide entrance. Richard and Tech were interrogated by two policemen, Sergeant Cage, a man in his early fifties—medium build, pot belly—and Corporal Wyre, who was in his late twenties and had a build reflective of his athletic pastime, basketball.

Just inside the doorway stood a stocky gentleman, in his forties. He wore dark glasses, had his locks tied in a ponytail, and was dressed in a dark suit. He stood a distance away, just within earshot, and looked intently at the young men.

Richard was, for a moment, preoccupied with his personal circumstance. He’d been a law student when he’d met Marlene. After she had left for the island, he’d found it difficult to stop thinking about her. He feared for her well-being, but most of all, he feared the thought of losing her, so he left to join her. His mother had been very disappointed with his actions. She flashed into his mind occasionally, scolding him; he knew just what she would blast him with now. Look what you come to, eh? Look whey you be? Is this what all me hard work is for? Eh? He reacted as if he’d received a cuff from her across his head. Two more years to finish law school! He anticipated she would take off her shoes, as she did on occasion when he was growing up. Look what shame you bring ‘pon me. He reacted as if a shoe had been slammed across his head.

Gone follow woman and left university! All me sacrifice… He envisioned more blows, more grimaces.

Sergeant Cage watched Richard’s grimaces without comment. Sergeant Cage had an intellectual preoccupation in the approach to his work and studied closely Richards’s reaction. He felt Richard was different, and not like many of the common criminals he encountered. Something was tormenting him. He thought. Is it his conscience? If that was so, it said a lot about him.

Richard looked wearily at Sergeant Cage as he continued his questioning. So you don’t know what happened?

Richard responded emphatically, No!

The sergeant looked at Tech. And you?

Tech moved uneasily in his seat but gave no answer.

Corporal Wyre decided to try a different approach, Why all you Jamaicans so lie and thief? he questioned, seeking to evoke some emotion. You can’t get away with it! On the spot, had the goods, he insisted, but still got no reaction. He was an intelligent police officer who loved sports and many times brought everything down to one aspect of