Chapter 4 - A Family of Strangers; That's What We Are'

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=145 BGCOLOR="#006699" TEXT="#080000" background="0c3085a3.jpg"> <div> <B>Jamaica~Noamie's Negril.Com</B></div> <div> <FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#EEEEEE" FACE="Eurostile" ><B> </B></FONT><I><B>                                            </B></I><I><B>                                   Negril: The Place I'll Rather Be</B></I><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#FF66FF" FACE="Arial Narrow" ><I><B>...</B></I></FONT><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FF66FF" FACE="Desdemona" ><B>Jamaica ~ Negril</B><B>             </B></FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#CCCCE4" FACE="Eurostile" ><A HREF="id48.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="My BookWest Cliffe"><U><B>Home</B></U></A></FONT></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B><IMG SRC="2fe58010.gif" border=0 width="600" height="1" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B><FONT SIZE="7" COLOR="#FF00FF" FACE="Pristina" ><B>West Cliffe</B></FONT></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" background="0c4d2e83.jpg"> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=335 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <I>Chapter  4 - A Family of Strangers; That's What We Are'</I></div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>West Cliffe</B></div> <div> <B><IMG SRC="0f701370.png" border=0 width="257" height="55" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <bR> <div> <B>Chapter Four  </B></div> <div> <B><IMG SRC="35d97890.jpg" border=0 width="151" height="137" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>Who Is My Sister Doreen?</U></B></div> <div> <B><U>What's  The True Colours of Paulette?</U></B> </div> <div> Doreen, the forth child of my mother, born to my father in 1958. However, my mother would have her registered a year later, and with a wrong birth- day and birth year. Doreen was always filled with jealousy of me. She, from an early age, was filled with the same cunning, conniving, devious behavior that I would've come to witness in our mother. Doreen  would lie just for lying. We had it out many times. </div> <bR> <div> I could recall the time when I was four or five and Doreen, for no reasons used her long nails and scratch my face. I was so upset that I grabbed her and bit her. Miss Lucille ran out and parted-us right there in the street. Grandmother had sent us to Dall-Dall'shop, and Doreen wanted all of my sweetie that my other God-mother had given to me. After telling her that she could only have a piece, she decided to scratch my face, all over wanting all my candy.    </div> <bR> <div> Many times, I would always ends up doing all her chores, as well as her getting my best clothes to wear, after she had ruin all of hers. I recalled that as we grew older, every guy who likes me, or show some interest in me, she would manipulate a way into sleeping with them, knowing fully well that they had no personal interest in her.  Later, she would informed me that she been the older sister, that no guy should like me first before here. Here's a list of the men: Dave Cox; Miss Sinclair of Little London son; Mikey Reynolds; Whitey; just to name a few. Later, Mikey would have come to the Bronx New York, and shack-up with Paulette, even as Paulette was married to Myers, and Myers was in Jamaica. </div> <bR> <div> 1985, I watched and listened to the long story of Mummy having Paulette and Mikey living together in the house in the Bronx. Hell would break loose after Paulette second abortion, one for Mikey and one for some criminal name Berty from Kingston. Talk about a girl, a chip off the old block, her mother Dun, is Paulette.  I introduced Doreen to her husband. Had I not introduced her to her husband Fitzroy Connell, she probably would had ended up with a lot more using like a dirty dish towel, and some abusive man, and not married. Luckily, I had taken Doreen with me to the Official opening of Negril Tree-House in 1979, where one of my friend was trying to get me to go out with this guy who had seen me and wanted to meet up with me. It was then that I came up with the idea that Doreen should come out that night. </div> <bR> <div> When Fitzroy showed up that night, on his way from working at Hedonism, I took him to meet Doreen and they had been together since. Of course, I never got a thank you from Doreen. By the looks of things, I should have added Fitzroy, Doreen's husband to the list of men who had liked me; and instead she bed. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>No Sisterly Bonding: Never Was; Never Will Be: </U></B></div> <div> <B><U>The Stage Had Been Set: </U></B></div> <div> <I><B>A family of strangers; that's what  we are.</B></I></div> <div> I was going on thirteen when we were in our bedroom practicing on our looks. Of course at this age, when girls began going through puberty, and are starting to come into their sexuality, that I would have began to experience my sister Doreen's true colours. We had decided to put on lip-gloss and a little eyebrow. After it was over, Doreen looked at me. Upon seeing that I was looking more beautiful than she was, Doreen sneaked out and went over the shop and told Daddy that I had put make-op on. </div> <bR> <div> Unbeknown to me Doreen came back to the room and said nothing. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when daddy busted into our the room and came up to me, grab me to see what was on my face, along with the look on Doreen's face that I realized fully what my devious jealous sister Doreen has done. From that day on, I would come to learn, to not trust her my sister Doreen, to have no further bonding with her as a sister as family should. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> Therefore, it came as no surprise, not a bother to me when she would seek out the guys who likes me, and had gone to her, to solicit her help in getting to talk with me, that instead, Doreen would maneuver her way, in a cunning, sleazy way, into sleeping with them. I cannot tell the true feeling of Doreen and Paulette, as Doreen was very upset with Mikey Reynolds and Paulette. Doreen having felt betrayed by Mikey. </div> <bR> <div> I learned of all this and more when I was in Los Angeles and got a call. Doreen had called me, as she wanted me to come back to New York and do a favor for them; to do a business marriage with Mikey. I did asked how much would I been paid for the deal. Doreen told me none; nothing, in her usual abrupt mannerism, and as if  `after-all, this is all you're worth; nothing.'  </div> <bR> <div> For one, I had no interest in doing any favor for and to anyone. Most of all, and for all that it was worth, I had no intention of doing such a thing. There mess-up triangle of filth wasn't about to come upon me. It was about the same time that Paulette was pregnant with Mikey's baby. Well, Mummy dearest would see to it again that Paulette would have her third abortion. </div> <div> The family desires to manipulate and control my life; once again was at its peak. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>Paulette; Not My father's Child:</U></B></div> <div> <B><U>Paulette the Child From My Mother's Adulterous Affairs. </U></B></div> <div> <B><U>Paulette Barbie V Daughter</U></B></div> <bR> <div> Paulette came out on the attack against me, and regarding my inheritance from my father, me, my father's child is nothing short of an insult to injury. As the old saying goes; "If you're living in a glass house, don't throw stones", would ring true in this situation. As for Doreen, needless-to-say, she had her own set of problems with her husband, and after his countless affairs with other women. I felt terrible for my nephew, Doreen's son. The poor child had been dragged from a settled school in Norwalk Connecticut, to some suburb of Georgia, where-in he would find himself out of place and in an environment that would become too toxic for him. In the end, like all other Jamaican children Andre would come to find himself in a gang-environment. The friends he would keep, the wrong place in the car with the friends of a different time, and that which would have him on two years of probation for the friends having a gun and was heading to do a robbery. </div> <bR> <div> It is ironic that while all of this was going on, that Doreen was all too busy plotting with her sister Paulette and Mother Dun against me into seeing that I do not get my share of land, and her coming to Jamaica to have been a part of their mother's evil into killing off her mother, my grandmother Emma. I could now understand Doreen's pain. She could never hold a candle to me. Not in looks, not in beauty, not in mannerism, and definitely not in character. I always win. </div> <bR> <div> What amazes me though is that Mummy Dearest sees Doreen as one of the outcast children: Me, Honey and herself. We the children she had mentally abandon, and wishes to disown, from getting our inheritance from our father. </div> <bR> <div> Luckily, for me Daddy had already given me my share of land, long, long time ago. This came about the same time, that daddy swapped some land, as part of a land deal. In order for grandfather to had purchase Jack-Piece from Grandmother's cousin Bam McFadden, daddy would give up that little corner of our land to Bam as a house spot. The thing was " that very spot was my, Noamie's birth place". I am the only child of my parents to have been born on that land. A piece of land that was once lease to my Father. It was a glorious day back in England when the deal came and the land was offered for sale to my father. </div> <bR> <div> I  was livid, in that my father was given the opportunity to buy that land, only to give it away in a bargain. I went to Grandpa and Grandmother to bitch my heart out. Grandfather felt my pain. He decided that he would take care of things. I had refused to speak to Daddy.  Therefore, in 1971 when my father came to me, to talk about my anger towards him; we would settle the deal. </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> That I would take the boundaries from the bastard cedar tree and up the way onto the hillside, on top of the hill, where the cave sits, and over to the guava tree that 'little patch of grassy land, over two and one half acres as my inheritance. Thus, I was satisfied, and the deal was done. Later, my all mothers' efforts in getting Daddy to change his mind would have failed every step of the way.</div> <bR> <div> Over the years, my mother would continue her wanton behavior, her affairs with other men, in her determination of getting my father to change his mind with my getting the land amongst other things. My mother outrageous behavior was one aimed to embarrassed my Father, a very public man, a very respected man into submitting to her wishes. An effort that had failed. In the end, my father would seek the companionship of other women into meeting his sexual needs. Working me to death was my mother way of punishing me. Lying on me was one of her other ways of getting daddy to turn on me. </div> <bR> <div> One night, I couldn't sleep. It wasn't unusual for me either, to not be able to sleep during the night, as even as there's a full moon, I would wake up and look to admire the moon; what beauty, what glorious creation of the Higher Power. So, I got up and went to sit on the verandah. Back them, all was quiet in our small town of Retirement, of the Negril Hill. While sitting there, I happen to hear my father voice. Curiously, I listened. There I heard my father begging his heart out for my mother, his wife to give him some sex, to allow him some wifely companionship. And it was there, that the treacherous bitch began to lay out her lies, as she set out her plans. She begin by telling daddy _"how wicked, me, Honey and Doreen, them three children were to the ones born in England; how much we were hateful of them, and to the point that 'we had cooked and not feed the three English born.  How she had caught us abusing them," and with a put-on -tirade of fake tears, she would pretend to break down with hysterical sobbing.   </div> <bR> <div> It was then that my father, our father swore to fix all that, make things right, the next morning. Only them did my mother, our mother gave-in, into giving her husband some sex. Sure enough the next morning, daddy got up early and the house was in disarray. It was hell in the house with daddy at his full rage: anger, verbal and lethal abuse.</div> <bR> <div> I followed this pattern of my parent's nightly antics having full proof that indeed my ears weren't deceiving me. It was then that I informed Honey and Doreen. I told Grandmother and Grandfather, who for one reason or another wasn't surprise. Doreen quickly insisted that "It can't be true, I have to be lying." So, I promised her that on any one night, that I would hear my parents again, that I would wake up both her and Honey to come to listen to our mother treacherous behaviors. This she would hear with her own ears; as did Honey. They both began to cry, that very moment of the night. For, for sure, Honey and Doreen would get to hear with their own ears, the treacherous behavior of the woman we called our mother, Dun. Dun, sweet, conniving, evil Dun, the same woman who from birth had all the blood-line traits of the evil, the same trace of evil that took Grandmother Emma's, mother's life even as Emma and her sister Alma, the twins, were only weeks old.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>My Mother- My Father's Queen</U></B><B>: </B></div> <div> Few knew that my mother never went out to work while living in England with my father from 1961 up until their return to Jamaica in 1968. Few knew that my father worked three jobs so that my mother could have stayed home out of the harsh England's cold. Yet enough knew that my mother was never faithful to my fathers even then. For while my father was on his first job, starting at 3:30AM, his boss would become my mother's lover.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>Who's Junior</U></B><B>?  </B></div> <div> <I><B>One Has to Feel It to Know It</B></I></div> <div> Enough of Orange Hill people would know that my mother would have two children, actually three, not belonging to my father.  My sister Paulette and my brother Junior. Growing up, I would often wonder as to why Daddy never reached out to scold these two, the way he would do, Honey Doreen, Kevon and myself. Even when us four would get a beating from Daddy, these two wouldn't get any. I would come to notice that Daddy wouldn't expect any chores from nether Paulette or Junior either. Then as the rumor flies, I would begin to take noticed. Daddy didn't care; they weren't his biological children. Even while they bears his name and he would support them; they were children given to him by his adulterous wife. Thus, my father nick-named my bother Junior- "Bagga-Rice." A name he would rise to live up to, in all aspects, mind, body and soul.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> I wrote of this and here's the reason. Daddy died in 1980. However, he had already given me my share of land, my share of the twelve plus acres of land. Nevertheless, it is these two, these two children, Paulette and Junior that would now rise up to fight against me, and together with the mother who would called police me, and declared that I am not entitled to any of the land that my father had given me; me my fathers' own child. Thus the public humiliation that would come to face my brother Honey in having to stand up for me. It would take a whole Community the very district to come out and boldly speak out against such a wrong, as my mother and the two, of 'not my father's children' have done. In a sense it is laughable! I laugh!</div> <bR> <div> In a strange way, daddy finds it comical. He had never seen a child so lazy as Junior. I was glad that Daddy was able to find humor some laughter in what was and should have been ' a painful moments of time' for him. Sometimes, revenges will come in a way that words cannot describe. Then is the time when one has to give praises to God for his wondrous mighty works. There's a time for everything. Indeed!</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>1977 -Paulette's Shocking Words To Daddy:</U></B></div> <div> The first time I would hear Paulette tells Daddy to "kiss out her lower-end" I was shock. None of us 'true Bremmer' would have ever said a thing like that, and to Daddy. It was the first time, that I saw Daddy reach to give Paulette a spanking. Yet, the spanking never took place.  Instead, that night, I would secure a place for her to sleep, away from Daddy's house. That night, I took responsibility of her, and we both slept with Mamma-D. We could never have gone to Grandmother Emma and Grandfather Norman's house, as they would never had allowed Paulette to have disrespected their son-in-law in that manner. Nevertheless, Paulette was my sister and this is what sister, sibling does; protect one another, or at least that was my philosophy. There has always been love and goodness in my heart toward all my sisters and brothers, even now. It was never my job to punish them.</div> <bR> <div> Even with all of Paulette's disrespect to Daddy and in the presence of Mother Dearest, my mother never uttered a word of rebuke to Paulette. It was more like her secret ways of jeering daddy as well. It would become a habit of Paulette to disrespect Daddy, as her way of giving her mother her glorious shameless moments. In some way, daddy finds himself crippled. Perhaps, had he ' put aside his wife for her adulterous behavior' such shame would never have become his daily way of life. I had to tell myself that that was the road he choose, and every man has free will given to them by the Heavenly Powers. </div> <bR> <bR> <div> My father wasn't an educated man. The honest truth was that my father barely had a fourth-grade education. Nevertheless, the way he had articulated himself in the public in the business world, few know that, in simple language, Daddy could barely read and write. He never received an education. Instead, at age thirteen, he was on his own and working days work, cutting cow pastures.  Yet, Daddy was a man born with his own share of innateness. My mother, his wife could never own any of the land, and would therefore, hold no power over his wealth, his property, and that which would become a part of my legacy. I have to laugh! My mother would learn that upon daddy's death even before the funeral, even before Daddy could be place in the earth, as she tried to sell-off the property, that indeed, she would learned that she holds no power, no title, no deeds and to anything. </div> <div> A petal for Honey, my brother.  After all , he has gain `some' wisdom.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><U>Two Married Women fighting over a Young Stud: </U></B></div> <div> <B><U>Sydney Reynolds: </U></B></div> <bR> <div> Gwen Reynolds disliked me with a passion. I disliked her with the same energy and passion. Sydney, her son had told her that I wasn't happy with him sleeping with my mother, and coming to my father's home, acting as if he was 'man-a-yard." Furthermore, Sydney had eaten my two best cock-chicken that I had raised, and took to Retirement the year before we moved home from Tillbury after living with our grandparents. The other thing was, I could see straight through Gwen Clayton Reynolds. Both assumed that I was 'acting too grown for my age, and had no manners. I guess, Gwen saw nothing wrong with her son 'living -off the fat of some other man's labour, so to speak.</div> <bR> <div> Gwen, another conniving busy-body whose share of 'husband-stealing' would put any woman -of- the- night to shame. So, let's say, Gwen didn't like me, and the feeling was mutual on my end as well. </div> <bR> <div> Later, as she sends her niece Piola to her death, I would conclude that we both knew that I could see things. Even as she would later take Piola's baby, fathered by my Uncle Tal and gives it to her daughter Miss P to raise through adoption. After all, keeping it in the family is what the good old clans are all about. As, it is public knowledge that Gwen's daughter Miss P is the sister of Uncle Tal, her been a Myrie. However, I'll stick to the real [other] issue here.</div> <bR> <div> My mother had a fight with Miss Heilie Henry-Myrie one bright morning. Well, imagine, "two married- woman" with both their husbands in England, fighting over a young district stud, right there in the road. Evidently Stud Sydney was suppose to have been in Miss Heilie bed that night. Turn out the Stud was instead, in my Mother-Dun's bed. In a rage, Miss Heilie came down the hill from her house, to our house, the next morning and grab Dun, my mother. Well, Dun was a fighter, so she tore off Miss Heile's clothes. </div> <bR> <div> What was wrong though, was that Sydney himself had held on to Miss Heile, so Dun managed as was to tear-off Heile's clothes right there in the road. Poor Miss Heile could only wrap herself with what was left of her dress, and shamefully head back up the hill to her house.  It was only three months before that when my mother had tried to beat me to death, calling me a liar in that she wasn't having an adulterous affair with this young boy, Stud Sydney that this fight would have taken place, in the road, and with all of Retirement to have witness. So, you see, I wasn't lying. My point was well documented. I must be fair and mentioned here that Miss Heile and Dun are both cousins, and that the stud Sydney is a relative of my father. </div> <bR> <div> Why do I write these things? [Because] our history, the history of who we are, Orange Hill People, Hills People, are a group so fascinating, so full of culture, that to let the next generation comes, and another, and, not knowing, will for one, repeat that which were never told. </div> <div>  It should be told; and I am telling!</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>West Cliffe </B></div> <div> <B>My Sister Babbeth; My Brother Kevon - </B></div> <div> <B>A family of strangers; that's what  we are:  ~31                                                                    </B></div> <div> <B>  </B></div> <bR> <div> <B><U>My Sister Babbeth:</U></B></div> <div> My father met my mother while she was pregnant with my oldest sister and would be Mother's first child.  Such is my Sister Babbeth. The man my mother was pregnant for had gone off to England leaving her. At fourteen years of age, my mother was pregnant and left abandons by her baby-daddy. My father who was going from Retirement to Mt Airy saw my mother. They became friends. Perhaps, friends in that during those times my father was working his own money. He would begin giving this pregnant woman his money.  My mother the would-be user; my father the fool. I still see this sensorial happen up in Orange Hill. A cycle of lifestyles that will be repeated itself until the ends of times. </div> <bR> <div> <I><B>Who is Babbeth?</B></I></div> <div> A conniving backstabbing bible -thumping hypocrite.  I dare her to ever put her foot back in Daddy's house, to even spend a night. She had lied on poor daddy back in 1972. This was after Daddy had told her that driving around in cigarette van with Mullings all over the place wasn't something that young-ambitious girls go for a living. Then low and behold Babbeth con-cocked a story that daddy had put question to her, and that I was present. The only thing that I heard Daddy said to her at the time that she twisted around that 'in that she could stay right there and make a life for herself. Of course, the shop was there, and she could make it a business and built herself. [But] Babbeth had no ambition other that to get dress-up, and drive around the place with her boyfriend. </div> <bR> <div> <I>Who is Babbeth?</I> My oldest sister of my mother, the Babbth who I had supported for years. From Florida, to Connecticut, to California goes my money in support of her wondering life and for many years.  This was before and even after I had mistakenly put her name in my bank account while I was serving in the Armed Forces overseas, and in Germany. Babbeth whose children I had supported for years, to keep her off the welfare line.  A good user she is. She took off to live with Grandmother Emma, where she had all the freedom to run the street. She is running ever since. I see lies have its way of tormenting people like herself. </div> <div> Therefore, it would comes as no surprise that she became her mother's own child: A conniving liar and much more.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>My Brother Kevon</B>: Here's a child that should not have been, but came anyway. Why I meant is that my brother was born a pre-mature baby. He was taken by c-section at seven months. After his birth, the doctors in England would pronounce my mother dead. It's a miracle; she's alive today. I did some research and this is what I would learn. This is facts. Take notes. </div> <div> <U>Note to My Doctors & Anesthetic: </U>In case of any sudden emergency know this:</div> <div> I have a MVP so the proper dosage of antibiotics must be administered. Please pay full attention to not over- dosing me. You must only give me half of the dosage you usually prescribed for African-American people and in my weight category. I am not African-American, or the term mostly used- I am not Black. Instead, I am a Jamaican, of Jewish, English and Indian descend. The latter came to light after I almost didn't wake up in 1983 after a surgery in Worsburg, West Germany. So the doctors and anesthesiologists told me to warn other doctors whenever I am due for any surgery of my ethnicity. So, please note for yourself this. Most Jamaicans of Mixed ethnicity, their body as do mine, in parts produces a higher amount of morphine, making our tolerance level to pain, stronger. This is honest truth. You will read this information here, and no other place. For these same reasons, I don't eat from any and everybody, and I don't eat at every yard. </div> <bR> <div> I don't have much to say about a brother who has become a stranger to me. I have done many things for my brother. When he came of age, and chooses a wife, my mothering would have its limits and its boundaries. My brother made his mistakes; things he had to live with. In life we grow up and we then we wish that we could turn back the hands of time and not become the adults that we once craved and yearned to become.  Whenever my brother crosses my mind, I still close my eyes and send him the 'brightness of white light and with loving bubbles of pink lights."  After all, he's my mother's child; my father's child. He was my baby brother who drove eight yours in a snowstorm to come to be with me, after I have my son. For him my brother I lend this beautiful flower...</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B><IMG SRC="35d97890.jpg" border=0 width="151" height="137" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <div> <B>The colours of my love for you.</B></div> <bR> <div> <TABLE BORDER="2" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="688" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER BGCOLOR=#000000 HEIGHT= 57 WIDTH="678"><div> <I><B>This site and its pages are Copyright 1998-2008. Noamie's Negril- Jamaican Tea Room. All Rights Reserved. Web site Designed by: Noamie</B></I></div> <bR> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>