A Brief History of Seven Killings (45 page)

Three p.m. me tell the people set ’pon the mother house take out everything and burn it right in the street. Leggo Beast in the jail begging and pleading and weeping and wailing and saying is Josey Wales recruit him and the white man who train them was CIA. CIA man wearing brown pants and shades even at night take them into the high bush up in St. Mary,
it must be St. Mary because we go east and up in the hills, and he show we how to load and cock an M16 and an M9. Point the rifle muzzle in a safe direction. Cock the bolt and open the rifle, no, cock the rifle and open the bolt. Return the charging handle to the forward position. Place the SAFE level on selector—no, place the selector lever on SAFE. Check the chamber to ensure it is clear. Insert the magazine, push it upward until the magazine catch engages and holds the magazine. Tap upward on the bottom of the magazine to ensure it is seated. Depress the upper portion of the bolt catch to release the bolt. Tap the forward assist to ensure the bolt is fully forward and locked. The man who talk like Speedy Gonzales show we what to do with a C-4, see? You mold it like a piece of putty, no? Like so and you put this wire in the putty and the mechanical sinting, the blasting cap and then have a long wire to make it explode and you click then boom,
hombre
. And since they give me cocaine and heroin it make me want to kill people and fuck woman, man and dog but if is heroin you cocky won’t stand up even though you want to breed a gal so bad. Some night them lock we up in a room tight and make we sweat because you fucking Jamaicans have no drive, no soul, no dedication, you’re nothing like the Bolivians or the fucking Paraguayans who learned a lot more in the space of two fucking weeks than you fucking jackasses will do in two years. And the Jamaican who fly down from Wilmington the third week with two big army-splotchy suitcase touch the white man shoulder and say, Easy pardner, chillax my brother, is revolution we building, while he go off with Josey and Speedy Gonzales who only talk English when he want we to know he still mad about the Pigs of the Bay. Josey talk Spanish with him. Yeah he can talk the Spanish, is truth, is truth, me hear him. Don’t believe what him say, all of we hear him. And is one month we training, day and night in soldier uniform and one night Josey walk in the room and just shoot a boy in the head because him say him nah do it. Josey go off with Speedy Gonzales and the two of them reasoning for a long time. After them done reasoning we go out after midnight to take a cart off the wharf, which did full of more gun, including gun that me see you have now, Papa. You have gun from that shipment too. And the white man saying you guys’re all that’s saving Jamaica from chaos so you gotta do God’s work. Save order from Chaos. Save order from Chaos.

Save order from Chaos

Save order from Chaos

Save order from Chaos

Save order from Chaos

Save order from Chaos

Tony Pavarotti gun-butt him.

The first time they give me the cocaine them turn me into man that want it so bad, Jah know, me would open up me battyhole and make white man fuck me in it for another line. Jah know
. Tell that to the jury me say to him to cut him off with all that batty fucking business, but me mark how him perplex me. Half of what come out of him mouth, not just what him say, but also how him say it didn’t originate in Copenhagen City.

This CIA business—stupidness, especially since me see all the white man who come here with Peter Nasser and none of them say them was with
no CIA. But that sorta lie seem like them no have no mental skill to think up something like that. Is like when a little boy open him mouth but what flow out sound like TV. This make me think deeper for a while, after all the Singer did sing that Rasta don’t work for the CIA. All me know ’bout the CIA is they from America and would like JLP to win more than PNP because communism so bad in Cuba that mother already killing they baby.

But why would the CIA take it so serious that they would try to kill him? After all, him is not no politician and him don’t have no government. Why not send James Bond or them special agent instead of three ignorant fool from the ghetto? Me ask Josey Wales what the bombocloth them a talk about, and he say if me too stupid to not know that when boy drowning he will clutch any straw, which sound like something me would say, and then he drive out, like this is pickney business he too big for. Me decide to not talk ’bout how him just call me stupid, as if is not me did pull him out of 1966 with my own hand. And how him always boasty but lately he getting just a little too big with me, like me ’fraid to cut his bad-breed part-chiney self back down to size. Me look ’pon him and think it but me don’t say it. Me ask how can me be sure he really don’t have nothing to do with the shooting since so much man say him involve and he say, Brethren, if me was trying to kill the Singer, the pussyhole would be dead now.

Believe him or don’t believe him, me don’t know. Plenty black man don’t like the Singer, but they mostly wear shirt and tie and work on Duke Street. What don’t sit right with me is the new thing in him face, and the hissing teeth saying whether I believe or not he don’t care. Me scratch me head trying to find it, the year, the month, the day, the hour when this man pass me out and think him badder than me. And when a good number of rudies in the ghetto notice. Me is the last to know that rudie don’t call themselves rudie no more. Now them is shotta. And they not no gang no more, now them is posse. And them answer phone call from America. Few nights ago me send message with Tony Pavarotti to the Singer and the manager. Meet we at McGregor Gully, me say, and make we once and for all do justice.

We deep in McGregor Gully, so deep the stink change. Leggo Beast and the two man tie up with the madman mouth in a gag because me can’t
stand to hear him talk. Tony Pavarotti kick each man in the back of the knee and they fall to ground. Two other man stand with Pavarotti. On the other side three woman and three man who answer to me. Verdict leave to them, judgment leave to me. Then we hear the sound of two vehicle coming to a stop before the four lights shut off. My two man come out of their car first. The Singer and him manager follow.

And the world say people must have justice, so we going give them justice even though in the world is nothing but Babylon justice that treat we like animal. McGregor Gully is a hole. Is a passage beneath ghetto that rain water supposed to pass through to prevent flood, but since Babylon don’t send garbage truck to the ghetto, everybody throw garbage in the gully so when rain fall the same ghetto people get flood with water, rubbish and shit. So much rubbish it turn into a wall of garbage. At first me did think the court would say they verdict quick just to get out from the rat and the shit but these man and woman sit down on rock and tree trunk and they stern. Me study them face and they study me. They don’t even look ’pon the Singer and him manager. As soon as Leggo Beast see the Singer, him start whoop and wail and holler like him in the spirit and me tell Tony Pavarotti to silence him so he gun-butt him again.

—Them three man was descended ’pon Hope Road and try fi commit murder, me say.

—Is no me Papa, is no me is—

—You boy, shut you shit. People see them, and we have man who is witness. But me is a beneficent man. Me nah take justice for meself. Babylon court is fuckery so we set up we own court. You people is the court. You people judging, that way is judgment by the people for the people and nobody can say Papa-Lo just bring down hataclaps ’pon people like he name old testament God. We doing this proper. Babylon don’t have no justice, ladies and gentlepeople. Babylon don’t catch a single one of them ’cause Babylon on a different mission. But hear me now. Right now, you listen to the witness and you listen to the accused for even them have a right to give account for themselves, after all this is where we prove a man guilty, not where a man have to prove himself innocent. Is more than they deserve and
is more than what they will get from the Babylon shitstem named Gun Court. If it even reach court. Police would ah shoot them and kill them long before them reach court. After all next thing we know, behind the trigger is Babylon for real. You, Mr. Manager, tell we what happen ’pon that evening.

—Well, I must say that right now I am in view of one of them. But some crucial fellows I don’t see. I don’t see at all.

—Who you don’t see?

—He’s not here.

—Who?

—But this one was there. And this one. And . . . hold him up to the light. Him, too.

—The Singer have anything to say?

—I speak for the Singer and for me, since only he and I were in the kitchen.

—I see.

—It is interesting to note what the young man just said.

—What him say? Go on.

—Well, as you may not know, I was a soldier in the U.S. Army. Served from 1966 to 1967. That was when the Vietnam crisis was in full swing.

—Jimmy Cliff did do one song name “Vietnam.”

—Huh? Well, yes I’m sure. As I was saying, so I know all about the full workings of the CIA. So I know that should you see any attaché, consultant, embassy employee, any white man in a suit who’s too far from the New Kingston, he is most certainly CIA. In fact if I were you I wouldn’t trust any white man you see anywhere but Negril or Ocho Rios. So anyway, on the day in question—

—Nobody questioning the day.

—It’s an expression. It’s . . . anyway, I was pursuing some much needed relaxation at a Jamaican establishment, when I had to leave to catch a flight to Miami on some business. I returned the following day, this would be what, December 6? Yes, I think that is correct. So let’s see. First I went back to the establishment to check on things. Then I went over to House of Chen for some curry goat—

—What this have to do with—

—I’m getting to that, gentlemen. And lady. Ladies. So I went to House of Chen on Knutsford Boulevard for some fine curry goat. From there I went to the Sheraton to pick up the head of the label, but he wasn’t there. I returned the car for it was a rental and made my own way in my car to 56 Hope Road. I always park my car under the alcove so that’s what I did. I could hear the band rehearsing so of course I looked in for him, but he wasn’t there, he was in the kitchen. So in the kitchen I went and there he was, eating a grapefruit. Anyway, he and I had matters to discuss, and, well, I haven’t had grapefruit in God only knows. So, I said I would love a piece of grapefruit, and he waved me over. As soon as I reach out to grab it we both hear a sound like a firecracker. Of course gentlemen and lady. Ladies. This was the Christmas season so of course I paid scant attention to what we both thought were firecrackers. I think he said something like who the bloodcloth bursting firecrackers in my yard? Something like that. But before he could even finish, next thing we know, more ratatatatat. All of a sudden I just felt this burst of a burn. Then another one, then another so fast that it almost felt like just one burst. I didn’t even realise that I was shot. You don’t feel like you’re being shot, you just feel your legs burn, then give out, and still have time to wonder why. All I know is that I fell forward on him and then he said, Selassie I Jah Rastafari. It was just all so fast. So, so fast.

—Then if you get shoot in the back how you know who shoot you? one of the woman say.

—I think I passed out. When I regained consciousness I was still in the kitchen. They shoot me. I’m dead or something, I hear people saying. Since they thought I was dead none of them wanted to pick me up since, as you know, Rastafarians don’t touch dead bodies. Everybody kept assuming I was dead. The police threw me in the backseat of a car because they thought I was dead. At the hospital the nurse actually looked at me and said, This one dead. They actually started wheeling me to the morgue, all this time I could see everybody saying these things about me and couldn’t do a thing. Imagine that. Thank God for Bahamians. This Bahamian doctor passing by just said let me check and told them I was still alive. Four shots, gentlemen.
One near the base of my spine—it’s a miracle I’m walking today, thanks to doctors in Miami. Well, it was a miracle I didn’t settle for what Jamaican doctors and nurses told me.

—The Singer have anything to add to this here proceed—

—I speak for the Singer.

—Him know who try to kill him?

—Of course he knows. He knows some of them personally.

—Who fire the shot?

—Shots.

—Shots. Him see who fire the shots here?

—Three of them, sure. But where are the others?

—The others dead.

—Dead?

—Dead.

—Surely that’s not the case. I saw at least two of them at the peace concert. One was even near the stage.

—Me don’t know what you talking about. We have three here and them all confess.

—Even this one with the gag in him mouth?

—The other two say him involve.

—Them force me, skipper! Leggo Beast say.

—Them and Josey Wales and the CIA and them use powder fi, fi hypnotise me! Them threaten fi kill me.

—Can I hear from the one with the gag? the manager say.

—That idea, it not too good.

—I’m afraid I must insist.

—Insist? What that mean?

—It means we both leave if we don’t hear what he has to say.

—Tony, pull that thing out ah him mouth.

Tony pull the gag off. The boy just drool and look straight on in the evening like him blind.

—Young youth, what you have to say for yourself? You. You boy. You no see we giving you chance?

Fool-fool boy. Him look at the manager and say,

—Me can see right through me. Me can see right through, right through, Leviticus and Numbers and Deuteronomy.

—Nothing good going come out that one mouth, me say and motion Tony Pavarotti to put the gag back on.

—So any of them man you see?

—We saw the one at the back, who not saying nothing, the manager say.

—This one, him mother was hiding him for a year. Right under we nose.

—The CIA con we. Me can’t even remember nothing. Is when me mother tell me say me shoot . . . is only then me know and me still don’t remember, Jah know.