A Brief History of Seven Killings (44 page)

For lo and behold all nice and decent people: the last movements of Babylon. January 5, four day before we light candle and sing. Me feeling good because it too early in the year to feel the heaviness of it come down on you. But the new year reach the Wang Gang with no gun. Fool like fuck, the Wang Gang. A Peter Nasser idea he couldn’t control once outside of
Copenhagen City. Yeah they still was about, and still taking no instruction from the likes of me or even Josey. But by end of 1977 Wang Gang didn’t have no gun, since even Peter Nasser realize you shouldn’t arm man you can’t control. Somebody tell them if they promise to use them to mow down some PNP youths in two of the Eight Lanes and weaken the center, then Wang Gang can keep a shipment of guns that was to magically appear at this old bay in St. Catherine.

This somebody was just going to leave a car trunk full of guns and all them have to do is pick them up, start some ruckus in a PNP territory and they can keep the guns. As usual Wang Gang don’t take seek no counsel. They start to think big, since this somebody who inform them have personal connection in the Defence Force. They even get promised of some real work at the wharf, mostly security, where they could put them guns to use. Nobody ride for free in Jamdown, but the gang agree and in the early morning two army ambulance come down to Wang Gang Lands and pick up fourteen boy.

Two ambulance take them east of West Kingston, over past Port He nderson, across the bridge, past the four beaches of Portmore and up into the hilly cliff. When them reach Green Bay, the driver tell them to come out of the ambulance and wait right there. Another truck was go ing come with the guns—none of them remember the army did say a car was coming not a truck. Them boys see and wait. A soldier come up and start talk to the boy in charge. He and the soldier go into the bush when the other boys hear a single shot, like the start of a race. And then, hataclaps.

Jamaica Defence Force man come down ’pon them from afar and open fire. Soldier rush down ’pon the boys and start fire machine gun while one big one hiding in the bush push through and start ratatatatatatatat like this was war. Boy who manage to run, run into other soldier, boy head blow off and drop, man dash straight into thorn bush that rip off him skin until he reach the sea. Five shot to death, more wounded and one or two dive into the sea and get save by fisherman. The rest scatter. The soldier come on TV and say them boys trespass ’pon them firing range in the middle of a shooting practice in the evening. Coming ’pon the TV and talking over the radio,
the minister say, “No saints were killed in Green Bay.” Three days before the concert, we launch a protest about how people in the ghetto still shit and eat in the same place when down swoop Babylon police force and kill three people including a woman. The same minister again,

“If one policeman is killed this year, the people who did it will be hunted down like dogs.”

Many more will have to suffer. Many more will have to die. My first week in lockup Babylon beat me ’round the clock. They wasn’t searching for no news, they wasn’t trying to turn me into no informer. They was just all taking they turn to show me who is the bigger boss. The police never come one at a time, not after the first one come after me and me give him a kick that send him balls right up into him brain. Afterwards they come two by two, three by three, one time even four. Is like them was in contest, who make me bawl out first win. The first three, me mark them name, Watson, Grant, and Nevis, almost sneak in late at night. But as me hear the clang of the gate they set ’pon me with baton. This is for what you do to Roderick, one say. And him widow. Then it must burn you that if you kill me somebody going deal with you, me say and spit out my back tooth. Probably black from cavity anyway. After that new police come nearly every night for a week, always with one of the first three as tour guide.

The last night the four come, two hold down my face in the floor which smell of me own piss. They fold over a towel and put bath soap in it. Then they take turn beating me in me back singing one potato, two potato, three potato, four. Me getting tired of this shit so me tell Grant and Nevis to back off before me really get mad. They shocked me know them name but that make them set ’pon me worse. Two day later both men ask for a few days’ leave. Grant wife might never use her left eye again and Nevis’ son arm and leg break. Nevis come to me cell saying he personally going kill me. I tell him I feel real bad ’bout him son but now he have to take special care him little thirteen-year-old daughter hymen don’t get burst from the wrong man infiltrating it. Is always funny when a black man go white. When they finally let me out into the general area with me own men waiting for me, everybody around me hush and in gloom. At first me did think they hear
about Nevis’ son and think that was going too far, or they was just showing me proper respect. But then me grab a newspaper from one of them and there on the front page was the Singer.

Evening. Me and Pavarotti late. I don’t have a watch but I can count when time ticking away. Could do it from me was a boy. Plus me grandfather teach me how to tell time like a Colon man. Hold on, him wasn’t me grandfather, no man in the ghetto have grandfather. He was just an old man unlucky to be the only man who live to old age, singing the Colon man song.
One two three four Colon man a come. One two three four Colon man a come. One two three four Colon man a come, with him brass chain ah like him belly bam bam bam. Ask him the time and him look up in the sun with him brass chain a lick him belly bam bam bam.

Pavarotti look at me blank—I didn’t realize me was singing it out loud. So evening, maybe seven-thirty, but we near the sea so nothing blocking the sun as it run away. Tony Pavarotti driving slow and me not telling him to drive fast and the disco music fulling the space where otherwise two man would have to talk. First me think it was a batty boy vibe but then the lyrics penetrate. Shadow dance for true. We shadow dancing as soon as light set to go. What done in darkness can never come back to light.

We riding against the sea in peace and I thinking about how the second peace concert born in England. Because 1977 was nothing but war. The concert was calling for one love, and we charge two dollar for the “togetherness section,” five dollar for the “love” section and eight dollar for the “peace” section, that way if rich burn-skin white man and woman want to come they can come too with no fear, although there was no way in hell that was going to happen. Burn-skin white man don’t want peace, he want Jamaica to become the USA state number fifty-one, shit, he would settle for just a colony.

We do the concert because whether you green or you orange, some place still don’t have no toilet and we have pickneys surviving stick, stone and bullet only to get kill by a drink of water. We do the concert because one in every three never have no work, and that was not just in the ghetto. We do the concert because Babylon was coming for all of we. The Singer come
back but things did change in him. Where before he would grab you before he even see you, now he wait one-two second and nod or grab him chin and smile. Where he would finish a sentence you start, now he wait for you to finish, look right through you and don’t say nothing. Understand this, me didn’t have nothing to do with December 1976, but I know he now sleep with one eye open and that eye sometimes ’pon me. Me and Tony Pavarotti leaving the sea and turning for McGregor Gully.

The concert. Me never get to see the peace concert in 1976. But me get to see the war right after. So April 22 me at this concert. Me on the stage. Me watch Seaga and Manley form steeple over the Singer head. People always looking for signs and wonders, but signs signal nothing and nothing in a wonder to wonder about. The man me never going forget is Tosh. First me think this man come shit ’pon we concert. That man just had a thing for rubbing me the wrong way until me figure him out. And even when me figure him out and think we have an understanding, him still a little fuckup, maybe because more than the other two, him is the one Babylon fuck with the most, especially Babylon police. Just a month before the Singer come back, the customs officer stop Tosh at the airport and hold him for long. Here is what the officer whisper to him:
Me looking for a reason to shoot you
. Me didn’t even want him too much because a man like that never feel the positive vibration. Is the Singer who did want him and convince him to come. Me no get between family and them affairs. Almost a month now and is still Tosh me remember. Tosh was the one who make sure nobody ever forget. Right before the concert he say he
not playing no bombocloth concert because every man involve in that concert going end up dead
. Man come on the stage in the still hot evening wearing black from head to foot, like him official, like is CIA work for Rasta. The first thing he do is tell man to lock off them bombocloth camera.
Is word sound and power that break down the barriers of oppression and drive away transgression and rule equality. Well right now you have a system or a shitstem wha’ go on in this country fi a long ages and ’imes. Four hundred years and the same bucky massa business and black inferiority and brown superiority and white superiority rule this little black country here fi a long ’imes. Well I and I come with Earthquake Lightning and Thunder to break down these barriers of oppression, drive away transgression and rule equality between humble black people.

Me stun like little boy when him first see a dead shotta. Even with the Rastaman vibration moving through me head, me never once think ’bout the black, even when me drive past plantation still standing. The last thing him say,

If unu want go ah heaven a fi unu business I will be here a billion years
.

Mick Jagger prancing like a drunk goat, looking on like proud daddy. Me and Tony Pavarotti driving down the road. How much minute me just miss? I feel like when me fall asleep and wake up and the plane still in the air. Tony Pavarotti saying nothing.

—We turn for McGregor Gully yet?

Him nod yes, just as I remember. Maybe me just tired. Making things right is hard work. Harder than crime. McGregor Gully always smell like shit and factory chemical run loose. People live ’round here but me send message from two day ago that they better clear out when me coming. They can come back when we gone.

Police wasn’t going find none of them boy but I was. Two years me see and wait. See them a hide like pussyhole while me wait for the Singer to come back to deal with them for real. One man hide in Jungle and there be a mother to blame. Damn them and they motherlove. Plenty woman-killer remember Mother’s Day. So mama hide son in her cupboard for over one year until even she get tired of it. Leggo Beast, crouched in cupboard with bread and roach and cheese and mouse for over a year. Come out only at night like him name Count Dracula. The little pussyhole never learn say if you want to hide in plain sight, then don’t be a fool and get your mother to buy cocaine for you. Josey is the one who tip me off.

Seven forty-five in the morning. Babylon still asleep, like it always asleep when it come to justice. Me send word that is time to deal with that little pussyhole. Fucking idiot. Me send two man to pull him out of the cupboard and bring him and the mother too. Me hear her scream ’bout nobody deh yah even though nobody ask her anything. Good Lord, woman can fool. When they bring the boy and him mother to me, right at me gate, the boy
blinking from too much sunlight and him skin white from head to toe. Me don’t want neither of them disgrace me premises with they presence so me come out to the road. The mother bawling do no take me boy, do no take me boy. Me don’t have no words for either. But me want the boy to see how much what him do cost, and how he was going pay. The year in cupboard make him stop grow. He nothing but bone and skin and he look at me all shifty, like lizard, then stare back at the ground. This from the boy them call Leggo Beast. I look at him mesh sleeveless and him jeans shorts, which cut off too high and the scab on him right shoulder. Leggo Beast look at me again and me take him in good, size him up nice then ball a quick, tight fist and punch straight in the mother face.

She stagger back and he yell. I grab her in the front of her dress before she stagger back too far then one two three more punch straight in her face. Her lip burst like tomato and her knees buckle and me let her sink into the road. Put me finger together and slap her right cheek with a strike, then left, then right again, then left. Leggo Beast bawling out for him mother, me point one finger and my man take him gun butt and clap him in the balls. People coming to watch. Let them watch. Let them remember how Papa-Lo discipline work. I slap her again, left, right, left. A woman scream out do Papa show her mercy and me drop the fucking bitch and walk over to my man and take him gun. I walk right up to the woman and put the gun ’pon her forehead and say, You want mercy? Make me show you bombocloth mercy. Me will show her mercy if you come take her punishment. The woman back ’way.

I walk back to the woman and kick her two time. Then me grab her left hand and drag her backside all the way back to her yard while the people follow. The boy bawl out for him mother. She not moving so me tell a woman to bring a bombocloth bucket of water now. She run and bring it back quick. Me dump the bucket ’pon the woman and she nod and cough and scream. Me grab her hair and pull her head up so she can see me face.

—You have half hour to leave yah so, seen? And me never want to see, smell or hear ’bout you again, seen? Me see you, me kill you, you brother, you mother, and you daddy and all you other pickney, seen? Thirty minutes
and get out of me bombocloth territory, or me’ll make you watch me fucking kill him.

Then me turn to the people.

—And hear this. Any one of you help her, any one of you even talk to this bitch, watch how fast me send you packing too.

Me put the damn boy in the cell with the other men who shoot up the Singer. One of them gone mad already, talking to himself and shit him pants while him talk ’bout how the radio in him head won’t believe him dead. Him talk day and night, and in the morning he talk about how the naked man duppy with blue fire wrap around him skin and long shark teeth was eating him flesh all night and covering him mouth so he couldn’t scream. And when the duppy done eat, he just open him mouth and cover him face with spit so thick is like Jell-O. Me say, pussyhole, you know why you life going get cut short? And him just say Jah live, Jah live, Jah live.