Three Likkle Stories: ISO Book Deal

Long Road, Portland Parish, Jamaica

( In Portland Parish, Long Road is closer 2 Kingston. Manchioneal is closer 2 Port Antonio.)

U cannot tell I Selassie, JAH, Bob Marley & the rest of the Rastafari ancestors aren’t looking after I. I a writer. From California. Also, I a Rastafari Buddhist psychologist.

How has it taken so long 2 write about what happened @ this guest house in Long Road back in December? Because the manager, a Jamaican named Anya threatened I more than once & stole money from guests & I. Guess whose father-in-law has this writer’s iPhone 12 mini? A man named Robbie (Mamumba) who sells castor oil, lives in Port Antonio & is a dreddie. (Story #2.) Not Rasta. Rasta = Hustler. Not scammer. Locks don’t make I Rastafari. OneLove. One Heart. OneBlood. The day the Rasta stranger rescued I walking across the bus station parking lot was a special day because this Rasta wears a cape hidden under the locks. That was the day after this man named Jimmy came by my rented apartment in Penn Up on Long Road in Portland Parish, Jamaica. Jimmy came by unannounced, I “let” Jimmy rape me*, then Jimmy took 10k Jamaican from me promising 2 return later that night & never showed up (much like the last two times). There are people I trust in Kingston. I was trying 2 encourage my friend Natty who works @ Ragamuffin 2 apply for a job fair being hosted @ the Bob Marley Museum that I hear about on IrieFM. After the final Jimmy incident Selassie shoved I out the door the next morning. Ran into the stranger who walked with I 2 the job fair & never got 2 bring Natty. The Jimmy incident was simply the final test: How much of this Portland Parish Crack** Curse on its own people was I 2 endure? Precisely that much.

I escaped my abusive relationship in Manchioneal by walking around the harbor 2 find a place 2 live besides dude’s mother’s house. Headed toward a place well-known called Zion Country that was also allegedly for sale, much like the scam I got trafficked 2 in Long Bay. When I arrived I met the caretaker (Owen) who mistook I 4 a tourist named Shari staying at this plantation owner-looking guest house up the road overlooking the harbor. I did not manage 2 hold it together 4 long before I spilled the story of the past few months 2 this Michigan Yogini on vacation. This is how I was introduced 2 this thieving family.

Have I mentioned since December I been assaulted twice with a back injury & I could not sit comfortably?

This Seventh Day Adventist elder named Arthur Ebanks sitting in the common area when I walk in with the Kebra Negast like a Great Fkry Shield & call it 2 ‘ole “I make my money from my prayer line in Queens’” attention. Oh? Yep. The next visit (when the breakdown 2 Shari happened)brought me 2 “the veranda” overlooking the harbor, pointed 2 the house just below & bragged about how the grandmother GAVE this property 2 a woman who was escaping an abusive relationship, but is 20k Jamaican okay 4 this leaky basement apartment where your privacy & sanity will constantly be violated? SOLD. Spoken like a true DOMVIO victim — something I never was before the Trump presidency. This “Elder” is surrounded by thieving relatives. The woman who runs the show is named Niecy because Arthur is Niecy uncle. The Queen Thief Of Long Road. Niecy went thru everything when I was gone. Told the kids where the wallet was. Here’s one, thinking I am a complete idiot & know nothing about ancestors:

That thief has a greedy cheek on the wallet in the bag.

The first day I went 2 the grandmother shop 2 buy a bokkle of Campari & was charged $4000. When the stranger followed I home, poor Rasta was HORRIFIED. “I saved your life!” Actually, someone else’s. *Jimmy would not have survived a fourth visit. Rasta nursed I back 2 health. When WE returned from a visit 2 Kingston, Niecy stole FOOD when the upstairs refrigerator is always FULL. Every time I went 2 Kingston Niecy let I know Jimmy came by right after…

In retrospect, “Jimmy” was likely sent after me. I was being watched because I’d just left Manchioneal & rented a basement apartment in Long Road. The only “White Lady” & everyone around me thinks I’m rich, because by their standards, I am. I was being starved out of Jamaica. Thankfully, the Long Road rasta brought I food, but then fell in love & never returned. White is not even a color. It’s neither good nor bad. It’s just plain WHITE. Not a single person accepted help. Too much distrust amongst EACH OTHER AT LONG ROAD. All of U need 2 join Saint Bob Marley & LIGHT THE FKRY UP SO U CAN LIVELY UP YO’SELVES. Find a Rasta & get a spliff-building kit. Pay someone a Nanī 2 teach U how 2 roll, or, better yet, ALL KINGS ROLL 4 ALL EMPRESSIVES. DUH. #PhatPoor #Gheto4Life #Rastafari

Please know that not all Portland is bad. Not at all. The fishermen in Manchioneal are very good people. So are their families. The taxi driver named Grabba who pulled the machete on this wise-ass kid? Priceless. My fave cab driver. On the way out of Portland Parish Crack Curse the driver who grabbed WE? Grabba! (YAY!!!) Stitchy & Family (2 include genius portrait artist) = Rastafari.

Melissa Cousins & The Cousins Family of Black Rock. Precious. Tia & Sherika who work @ www.gonaturaljamaica.com under the new owners? PRICELESS. Ming who rescued I from Anya = Rasta. All. Day. Long. Danny The Chef & the Maroon King who was there when I left. Gentlemen. Rastas.

In Port Antonio? There are two Empressives @ the craft market who are kind, honest Rasta Goddesses.

*women take almost anything whereas men take a shit. Rape is a crime of power, yet the power is wherever one believes it 2 (Melissa means BEE). Pumpum take a lickin’ & keep on tickin’ as research into recovery from the Rwandan genocide bears witness.

**crack is a derivative of cocaine. Jamaica follows so much colonial behavior, 2 include the government selling it in aluminum. Gross. Crackheads are children of Jah. Beautiful people medicating themselves against the fkry. More colonial behavior: The crackheads need 2 snort their cocaine like the rich white people it’s meant 4. Or encourage tourism & sell it. Or both. Crack is what happens when U smoke cocaine: YOUR TEETH DISPPEAR. Yo. Anyone who has a vice, this means the person reading this: Take morality out of drugs & view drugs as the business the Bush Administration did. Except make it free & fair trade, right? DUH. Oh, government & police? Stop miming the very country that put U in the war on drugs by mining 4 aluminum in a partnership with Holness. Crack down on CRACK by rehabilitating your precious children of Jah… especially the Manchioneal perimeter. Fishermen are Jesus’ BESTIES. Encourage drugs trafficking & discourage human trafficking. KEY? GREET YOUR EMPRESSIVES with “Hello, Empress!” OR (I love this one): “Wazzup, Royal”. When WE gon get a grip that below is the face of a Rastafari Warrior defending OUR SACRED PLANT.

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How2bJazzAF

How2bJazzAF

Drugs. Music. Sex. Religion. IgboOracle. Hermeneutics. Indian/ Chinese/ Judahist/ Rastafari-infused Philosophies. ☠️ (Yes. I need an editor.)