Jamaican Rhapsody

By Sigrid Williams

Julie thinks it is her fate that she meets her holiday flirt again after some years and falls in love with him straight away. Mighty Dread, a Rastaman, takes the chance to escape the poverty of Jamaica and follows Julie to foreign, where he believes the streets are paved with gold. After initial enthusiasm he must realise that money in foreign doesnt come easy, at least not legally. He steals her money and goes back to Jamaica where he plays the rich guy coming home as the Don. He fails to reckon with Julies adamant will to get even with him. She pursues him to Jamaica to find justice and revenge. He goes on the run but wherever he goes Julie follows. At last he returns to Jamaica to stand his ground in his own beloved island and to fight back, but Julie has found an ally and soon she must decide if vengeance is worth a mans life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491887172

Sigrid Williams

Sigrid Williams was born 1951 in Munich, Germany. At the age of 18 she wrote her first book. Being an embarrassed teenager she burnt it one year later in the chimney and instead started to explore Europe including Britain and Ireland on a vintage motorcycle. She then extended her journeys to Africa, crossing the Sahara Desert several times to West Africa, always seeking danger and adventures. Her work as a Free Lance Editor in the Film Industry gave her the time for her travels. After the birth of her children she crossed the whole continent of Africa with them in an old Land Rover, the journey taking 9 months and 2 days. She then progressed to discover the Caribbean, including parts of Middle America and the United States, always with the children in tow. She knows all the countries and places she is writing about very well and is visiting Jamaica on a regular basis. Today she lives with her grown-up children in London, where she started studying Computing and Publishing. In 2002 she got a National Award for Computer Graphics and Creative Writing.

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© 2013 by Sigrid Williams. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   12/10/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8716-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8717-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Ocean Pearl

Prologue

1   Julie and Rita Go Jamaica

2   Mighty Dread Goes Germany

3   Julie and Mighty Dread Go Africa

4   Trouble in Togo

5   A Wedding in Gibraltar

6   Marriage Problems

7   Jah Mighty Goes to Prison

8   Julie Meets the General

9   The Betrayal

10   The Jeep Must Burn!

11   Julie Takes a Risk

12   Jah Mighty and Irene Get Arrested

13   Obeah in Jamaica

14   Julie Meets Murphy

15   Julie’s Killer and Irene’s Crossfire

16   Julie on the Rebound

17   Julie and Dennis

18   Julie’s Court Day

19   Jah Mighty and Julie in Accidents

20   Julie and Dennis Split

21   Julie’s Business Gets in Trouble

22   Julie Goes to England

23   Julie in Prison

24   Julie and Asmara

25   Revenge in Jamaica

Epilogue

This book is for my children Samantha and Domingo who didn’t have a choice but to accompany me on my journeys although they would have preferred to stay at home.

I also dedicate it to the memory of quite a few of my Jamaican friends who met a violent death on this beautiful island.

Ocean Pearl

A pearl in the ocean

Shades of turquoise sea,

White surge where the water hits land

Imbedding the lush vegetation of the island

As the plane descends

The spirit soars to the sky

Back home again

Sigrid Williams 2011

Prologue

Port Antonio’s notorious Roof Club was almost empty. The gloom hardly disguised the shabby interior. In the corner was a stage where a bored-looking girl danced, gyrating her body obscenely around a pillar. A man in a sparse tanga slip entered the stage and took over the lead of the go-go show. Julie sat on a stool at the main bar and watched with curious interest the lascivious motions of the man literally winding his body into the woman. A few guys danced forlornly to the reggae rhythms, marvelling at their own performance in the big mirror on the wall. Julie caught the glimpse of a tall Rastaman watching her from the corner of his eye. Embarrassed, she shook her long hair back and turned to the barkeeper, ordering another banana banshee cocktail. Suddenly the slender Rasta stood beside her, smiling encouragingly.

‘Please come and dance with me,’ he said. With gentle pressure he took her hand and led her to a dark corner of the dance floor. He held her in his arms, his teeth shining bright in the dimmed light as he asked her the common questions:

‘What’s your name?’

‘Where do you come from?’

‘Is this your first time in Jamaica?’

‘Do you like it?’ and finally

‘Can I meet you tomorrow?’

Julie looked in his handsome face, framed with well-groomed dreadlocks, making him look vulnerable and sensitive.

‘Why not?’ she said and smiled.

Julie had only one week left of her holidays, but they spent this time together every day in a most innocent way—talking, tentatively starting to know each other. Mighty Dread showed her the place where he was making craftwork to sell to the tourists. He introduced her to his friends, where she was sitting quietly, listening to their engaged discussions about the global problems of the universe and the nuisance of their daily misery.

Mighty Dread included her in his daily routine with a natural kindness, which made her fall in love with the island of Jamaica, famous for its sun, for its beauty, and for its music. Mighty Dread cared for her and treated her with respect, making her feeling like a princess. Every morning he picked her up and every evening he accompanied her to the old Victorian Hotel, the De Montevin Lodge, where she allowed him stolen kisses on the cheek. He never mentioned anything strange in her distanced behaviour. Julie was grateful for his reservation. She suspected that he knew about the rumours, but her shape was still slim and she was not ready to unveil her secret.

Port Antonio was the hometown of the father of the growing life inside her. She had come here to meet his family, to understand how Solomon had grown up, what haunted him to make life a hell for both of them. Julie was not yet willing to talk about the beating, the cheating, the nightlong arguments ending regularly in violence, remorse, and the promise of eternal love. She was planning to bring up the baby on her own, but she still wouldn’t want Solomon to hear gossip about her any time he came back home to Jamaica.

Julie had come to meet his mother, a fat, pretty woman, typical of so many of them: pregnant at the age of fifteen. When her son was born her baby father was already going out with another girl who fell pregnant soon too. Now he had about twelve off-springs from seven different ‘baby mothers’ and then settled down with a so-called common-law wife who had children from other men but not from Solomon’s father. Solomon’s mother had never found the love of her life. She worked hard to bring up her son, lucky to find a job in the hotel where Julie was staying now.

‘When will you come again?’ It was their last evening together, and for the first time Mighty Dread got impatient. They had gone for a walk to the old hotel ruins in Titchfield to enjoy the panorama of the nightly lights of Port Antonio.

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged defensively and looked over his shoulder into the glittering stars of the tropical night sky. She wouldn’t come to Jamaica again, she decided; she had seen what she wanted to see. She felt her baby move inside her reminding her of her unsolved problems. She sighed. There was no place for a new relationship. She had to deal with other problems first.

They didn’t know that their fates were already entangled. The spirals of light and shadow, love and hate, attraction and destruction, lay in the roaring surge of the sea like a sign of ill omen thundering against the cliff beneath the charred hotel ruins at Titchfield Peninsula.

1

Julie and Rita Go Jamaica

The Roof Club had totally changed. Julie needed some time to decide if she should condone or condemn it. Instead of the sombre light hundreds of little bulbs blinked in red, yellow, and green. Also the walls were painted in the same colours, adapted to the Rastafarian colours red, green, and gold. Obviously the management of the Club hoped to participate in the success of Reggae music. The former stage was transformed into a cabin for the DJ who croaked into the mike from behind tinted glass.

It was Saturday evening and Julie and her friend Rita had to fight their way through the crowd to get in. The oversized door dragon blocking the entrance was the same fat woman from five years ago. She seemed to recognise Julie and nodded at her but didn’t change her grim expression. What had changed were the two bodyguards who searched everybody for hidden weapons giving them a first hint of the increase of violence in Jamaica.

They managed to get a place at the crowded bar, where they had a good view of the dance floor. A few prostitutes in shrill clothes showed off with their dancing styles bluntly praising their professional qualities to a group of European tourists. A spinning globe of mirrors sent glaring flashes of bright highlights over the dancers.

The bass thumped through their bodies. The music was too loud for small talk. Rita was soon off dancing. Julie caught herself scanning the crowd for a certain familiar face. With a slightly disappointed feeling, she took her Banana Banshee and went into the hall where a row of comfortable chairs were placed. She chose exactly the one she used to sit the previous time and tried to revoke the old atmosphere. Thoughtfully, she turned the glass in her fingers and immersed herself in memories. The sentimental voice of Garnet Silk hurt, and she felt lonely and excluded.

Suddenly she couldn’t bear the bustling atmosphere any more. She stepped down the stairs and squeezed through the crowded entrance. In front of the club the street boys gathered, awaiting their chance to see somebody who would pay their entrance fee or just to intercept a tourist from whom they could hustle some money. A few vendors had built up a little stall selling cigarettes and drinks. There was still the old man behind his card table looking for customers to try their luck.

She crossed the street seeking shelter under the dark arcades of the opposite side, where she watched the people going in or coming out of the Roof Club. Immersed in her own loneliness she first didn’t recognise the person half hidden in a dark entrance. Suddenly an arm darted across Julie and gripped the rotten beam of the arcade.

‘Wha’ppen, Julie?’ said a deep voice. ‘You don’t know your friends any more?’

Startled, she turned round and looked straight into Mighty Dread’s face.

‘Hi,’ he said in a friendly voice. ‘I heard you are back in town.’

She smiled. ‘It didn’t take long for the bush drums to get to you.’

‘To tell you the truth, Braggie told me he saw you passing in a rental car.’

Happily she stared at him trying to decide if she still liked him. All the restrictions she had given herself before she lost hope on her marriage to Solomon were abandoned in a few minutes time. She touched his skin and realised she enjoyed it. Mighty Dread was astonished by her willingness, so different from the aloof attitude he remembered.

She is hungry, he realised, hungry for love and affection. This time he would take care that she wouldn’t leave him without a word again. She needed love and tenderness. He would give her both. Of course he had heard of her disastrous marriage with Solomon as nothing could be kept secret in Port Antonio, but Mighty Dread would take advantage of that. He was older now and had gained in experience with women, both black and white. She seemed trustful and open. She was easy prey.

*    *    *

Junior grinned from ear to ear. ‘Julie, you are back! I can’t believe it!’

He came out from behind the counter of his ramshackle open-air bar at the market corner and hugged her.

‘It’s so long ago! How are the kids?’

‘So, you know about my children. I left them with a friend at the hotel pool. They’re fine.’

‘Of course I know! Solomon was stupid to let you go. He didn’t deserve you anyway. What do you drink? A gin and tonic?’

‘Oh no, let me try a Red Stripe first. I need some Jamaican beer to get used to the Jamaican feeling again.’

Julie sat down on one of the rickety bar stools made from the old seats of the cinema, which had to close down recently. Rumours were the place had been sold to an Austrian Baroness who wanted to build a huge modern shopping centre there. The cinema had been the only evening leisure attraction in the quiet little town.

Irie FM, the popular reggae radio station, interrupted its programme for a government commercial, appealing for the use of condoms with the slogan ‘Two is better than too many.’

‘Turn off that crap,’ an older man shouted. Willie, Junior’s cousin, bent to the radio and switched the station.

The other men nodded in agreement.

‘We nah wanna hear this. The government should take care of providing enough work that we can feed we pickney,’ a middle-aged man said angrily. ‘Me no need no rubber fe make love to me woman. She’d throw me out if me would come up with a condom and accuse me of cheating!’

The other men laughed. ‘So she no find out yet about your girl in Buff Bay, man?’

The man turned to Julie and said, ‘So, what you say, Julie?’

‘If you don’t listen to your government, well, I do. I have my two children. Two is better than too many, I agree.’

Junior told Julie about his plans to open a video cinema and become rich with that. Like everybody else he suffered from acute lack of cash money and was desperately looking for sponsors. His mother, a shrewd businesswoman, who everybody called Miss Ruby, even her own son, kept him on a short leash. He was happy to have Julie around again. Her reputation was one of a rich woman and Port Antonio always welcomed white people to inject some money into ailing businesses.

From her seat Julie had a fabulous sight of the busy market and colourful people walking to and fro. The bar was situated at a strategically important place, with the beautiful colonial courthouse across the Clock Square and the street leading down from Titchfield Hill, where most of the Guesthouses were situated. All the backpackers staying up there had to pass Ivanhoe’s Juice Bar on the way to the market or to the central bus station. Junior, as he was dubbed, took pride in making the best fresh fruit juices in town. Illicitly he sold spirits, mainly the cheap but strong white over-proof rum that smelled and tasted more like medicine than alcohol. The bar was a meeting point for native people and tourists alike. On Tuesdays, the main court day, accused and accusers took a drink before they went over to the courthouse, and on Thursdays fathers, forced by the old judge to ever increasing payments for their illegitimate offspring, let go of their frustration at the bar. Stallholders from the market also liked to have a break for a quick Red Stripe or Stout whenever possible. Sometimes a uniformed policeman stopped by whiling away his time at the shift. Even the assistant superintendent came after work for a secretive spliff in Junior’s private quarters in the back. Junior kept the business going with flexible opening hours and a jovial attitude towards everybody, rich or poor, black or white.

Julie exchanged words here and there with people she knew and with complete strangers. She listened to the arguments of some Italian tourists with two street guys, who insisted in a tip for guide services. She remembered Italian tourists were always trying to negotiate. One might easily think they were poorer than the Jamaicans.

Then Julie saw Mighty Dread’s lean figure in the shadow beside a clothes stall, watching her quietly. She smiled in his direction and beckoned him to come. He approached her slowly, keeping his distance. She slid from the high stool and went to him.

‘How are you?’ she said, beaming happily. ‘You just come?’ she added, switching automatically to the Jamaican slang.

‘Me watch you long time already but you were too busy to see me,’ he said earnestly.

‘Here’s too much noise. Let’s go to Pharaoh where we can talk. I’ve got the car here round the corner.’

They drove along the seaside road till the end of the West Harbour, passing makeshift food shops and little bars till they reached Stop Brap shortly before the Folly Oval.

Pharaoh owned a quiet bar and restaurant. It had always been Julie’s hideaway, where she could take a break from busy streets or hustling people.

Pharaoh’s dogs greeted them noisily. Julie spoke to them in a quiet voice that helped her to overcome her embarrassment and find a way to start their conversation. She had to find out what his position was after all those years. They sat down under a huge almond tree that gave its shade to the whole garden. They had a fantastic view over the bay to Titchfield Peninsula on the opposite side of West Harbour.

Julie confessed that she hadn’t wanted to unravel her ongoing relationship with Solomon in the past, but that was over now. She found her children were better off with a happy single parent.

Mighty Dread told her he had been in a similar situation.

‘Do you remember that angry girl who disturbed us once?’

Julie nodded. ‘I was very suspicious about this particular girl. So I had the right feeling.’

‘Yeah, she made a lot of trouble, but now I am alone. I was waiting for you to come. I knew in my heart that Jah would take care for us to meet again.’

They exchanged thoughts and opinions, till Julie suddenly realised how late it was.

‘I have to go back!’ she said. ‘Rita and the kids will miss me at the hotel. Let’s meet tomorrow, same time at Junior.’

*    *    *

Julie stood at the riverbank of the Rio Grande watching the raft approaching slowly. Rita was in the hotel babysitting the children to give her time for a weekend with Mighty Dread in the hills. He wanted to show her where he lived during the week. They had to cross the peacefully flowing Rio Grande River and climb up into the Blue Mountains to get to the place he called proudly his own.

The ferry man was a middle-aged Rastaman who showed her his handmade bamboo rafts. Julie bought two for her children and went into a vivid conversation about bringing up kids in Jamaica. He complained about the government and its reluctant and low payments for his public ferry service.

‘Me still have to pay education tax for my kids to send them go a’ school. Sometimes I don’t know how to make it. It’s so expensive to have children in Jamaica, so I try to sell my bamboo rafts as a souvenir,’ he said.

‘So how many children do you have?’ Julie asked.

‘Twelve pickney to bring up. My eldest is twenty-two now, but the others are still young.’

‘From how many baby mothers?’ The question came almost automatically from Julie’s lips, knowing Jamaican relations.

He laughed. ‘One baby mother. All children have the same mother. I’m a real Rastaman.’

Julie was happy to hear that. So there were still relationships working in a country where most men had several ‘baby mothers’ and also women had often different ‘baby fathers’, as relationships were defined in Jamaica.

They reached the other side of the Rio Grande River and started the ascent following foot paths only Mighty Dread recognised as such.

Two hours later Julie was exhaustedly gasping for air hoping her energy wouldn’t leave her before they reached their destination as they arrived at a fence of barbed wire. Mighty Dread held it up and let Julie crouch through. He started to whistle and call out. Soon they heard the bleated answer and a herd of goats approached. Mighty Dread stroked them and told Julie their names and their individual history.

After fifteen more exhausting minutes they got to a little concrete shed with one locked room attached to each side of the animals’ trough. He unlocked one of the rooms with a key and, encouraging her to come inside, said proudly, ‘This is my place.’

Julie was shocked as she entered the room. The floor was bald concrete. The only furniture consisted of a makeshift bed built on stilts in a corner. Julie decided after assessing it shortly that this bed would not even carry her own weight, let alone the two of them. So this was the unmasked face of Jamaican poverty. Julie found no words to meet his obvious pride about his home and sat down on a makeshift chair outside, determined to enjoy at least the nature and the tremendous view of the surrounding mountains.

Mighty Dread occupied himself inside the kitchen shed. He made fire in a little coal stove and heated some water for tea, constantly shooing away the curious goats. He prepared a cup of bush tea for her and poured some over-proof rum into it. Julie nipped the hot liquid slowly while Mighty Dread sat beside her smoking a spliff and telling her about his childhood.

‘My mother has gone to England when I was little and left me with my father in Port Maria’, he began. It was a sad story but in no terms unique. ‘My father got another wife. She didn’t like me, she preferred her own children. I was about ten years old when she beat me so hard with a piece of stick I ran away. I hid in a ditch at the roadside until I could stop a truck and the driver took me to Kingston. I’d told him that I wanted to see my family in town and I was lucky that he believed me. In Kingston, I went to search for my grandmother, my mother’s mother, and she gave me a home together with my sister, who has a different father. My grandmother sent me to school every morning, but I preferred to meet my friends and hang out on the streets. That’s the reason why I never learned read and write properly. Then I became involved in the 80 elections. One day I got stabbed by members of the rival gang and if a policeman hadn’t found me and took me to hospital I’d be dead by now. I stayed nine months in the hospital, time enough to make plans for revenge. Rasta hate police. It’s funny that I owe my life to a policeman. Look,’ he showed her deep scars at his back, ‘I still feel pain and cannot lift heavy things.’

‘So you’ve grown up in the ghetto?’ Julie asked.

‘Yeah, right in Trenchtown, not far away from where Rita Marley lived.’

‘And how did you get to Port Antonio?’ Julie wanted to know.

‘After I left the hospital, me and my friends trapped the gang responsible for the stabbing. They had a meeting in a board house and we set it on fire. After that I had to run away. I dissected my M16 and smuggled it in single parts on the bus to Portland, where I found this place in the hills. I dug the gun into the earth at a place I know, not far from here. If I ever need it I just dig it out, clean it and then I can use it again.’

Julie took some time to consider what he was telling her, until she knew the point that unsettled her. ‘And what happened to the people in the house?’

‘They are dead,’ he said dryly. ‘They got what they deserved.’

Inside Julie thoughts were running wild. She had her principles, and one of them was that murder was never justified and she didn’t want anything to do with somebody who had killed.

‘The reason why I left Kingston,’ he explained, ‘is that I’m against violence and for the rest of my life I keep out of other people’s business. I retreated into the hills to live in peace. Do you understand that?’ he pleaded.

Julie nodded looking at him, trying to decide if she could forget that he had killed somebody and put it in the back of her mind. She would think about it another day.

As the evening progressed, Mighty Dread threw a blanket over the concrete floor of the little room and they lay down aside each other. Julie tried to ignore the hard bed and concentrated on their first night together as they became lovers at last.

*    *    *

The next morning Mighty Dread got up early and led the goats away to a fresh pasture. Julie refused to move her stiff and hurting limbs until the sun stood high. She was hungry, but they hadn’t carried enough to eat. Mighty Dread had shown her how he used to fight hunger by lying on the belly with a hand squeezed into his stomach.

After she got up they went down a little creek, where they took a bath and drank water from a little pond where the water came