Along The Way- My Path

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=135 BGCOLOR="#006699" TEXT="#080000" background="0c3085a3.jpg"> <div> <B>Jamaica~Noamie's Negril.Com</B></div> <div> <B> ~Noamie's~ - Jamaican Tea Room</B></div> <div> <B><IMG SRC="2fe58010.gif" border=0 width="600" height="1" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#66FF00" FACE="Kristen ITC" >Along the Way.... West Germany  to Jamaica  ...1987</FONT><B>       </B><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Jamaica Noamies Negril.Com "><U><B>Home</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" background="0c4d2e83.jpg"> <div> <A HREF="id15.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="My Military Life"><U><B>My Military Life</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id16.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Man Who Had Sets Out to Ruining My M"><U><B>The Man Who Had Sets Out to Ruin-ing My Military Career</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id17.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Mannings School"><U><B>Manning's School</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id32.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Power of Gods Light: Conquering the "><U><B>The Power of God's Light: Conquering the Darkness</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id89.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Rememberance : People of My Childhood"><U><B>Rememberance : People of My Childhood</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id34.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Our Wedding_ My Family:"><U><B>Our Wedding_ My Family:</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id90.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Written for My Beloved Sister Doreen"><U><B>Written for My Beloved Sister Doreen</B></U></A></div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B><IMG SRC="3f000730.jpg" border=0 width="256" height="371" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <div> <B>I wonder lonely as a Cloud </B></div> <bR> <div> <B>Walking in the Garden of Love </B></div> <bR> <div> <B>Tulips and Roses and Roses and tulips:</B><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FF99FF" FACE="Eurostile" ><B> </B></FONT></div> <bR> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=345 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <I>Along The Way- My Path</I></div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <IMG SRC="37df7c30.jpg" border=0 width="247" height="195" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <div> Jamaica~Noamie's Negril.Com </div> <div> <IMG SRC="2fe58010.gif" border=0 width="600" height="1" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#CCCCE4" FACE="Eurostile" >    </FONT><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FF66FF" FACE="Desdemona" > </FONT></div> <div> <B>West Cliffe</B></div> <bR> <div> <B>West Germany 1987</B><B>:</B></div> <bR> <div> Frankfurt  Hospital<FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#6666CC" FACE="Eurostile" > : This morning the doctors returned. Earlier they had taken my breakfast away from me in a quick rush. The vomiting had returned. A week or so prior I was moved to a big room with two other women. They were wives of Army officers. We shared stories of inspirations. One wife told us of her experience in seeing an angel, one night after going home from college to visit her mother.  We talked and laugh and I had high hopes that I would be out of the hospital and would be going home in a couple of days. Only this morning thing wasn't going all that good. The vomiting had returned. With my breakfast gone, the nurse had quickly returned to stick that IV into my arm, once again. I hate that damn thing. With the intravenous, that means no solid food for me again. It would be bad news all the way around again. The doctors were still trying to figure out what was the source of my problem. From extreme diariahria to sudden vomiting, was baffling the team of doctors. My blood work wasn't good either.  A week and one half-prior, the result from my blood work had stunned the entire hospital staff. After a series of blood works, my blood had shown that what was in my veins wasn't that of human.   The first doctor who had attended to me had asked me to leave the hospital. However, for some strange reasons, assuming that she had spoken to the hospital administrator, they had agreed to keep me in the hospital.  "You are not human," she scolded at me. "Who are you" she bickered. I was stunned.  </FONT></div> <bR> <div> Here I was after three weeks still in the hospital, and without any direction as to the cause of my illness. One doctor showed some promising news. He told me that he was going away, however, upon his return, he would have some result and to fix my problem for me. </div> <bR> <div> I looked up and there were five doctors outside the hospital's room door. One came into the room and approached my bed. He asked me as the where I am from. I assumed he was asking 'What state as in the united States of America and from which I had enlisted in the Untied States Army. So, I told him Connecticut. The doctor said; "No, I meant where are you, from, originally from?" I told Him: Jamaica. He nodded his head, and walked out of the room. One of the five doctors who had approached me went back outside my hospital room door and joined the little group. They would later tell me in no uncertain terms that I had enemies in Jamaica. Stunned was even the word. Shock wasn't even a word. I was shock, shock, and shock. Shock in getting this type of a report from doctors all the way here in Germany. The next morning I was told that I would be going home, as in going back to my unit. The truth was that after almost a month in the hospital, there was nothing that they could do for me. The doctors had called my First Sergeant and had instructed my Unit to have someone come and get me, in a couple of days. I would later learn as to why I was put in a room with the two other women. They were there to observed me, even while I wasn't aware of the situation. The report was that something 'un-natural' was taking place around me.</div> <bR> <div> I arrived at my unit and would sit down with my First Sergeant. He informed me that he was instructed to send me home. That I have enemies in Jamaican and or that I have left a husband in Jamaica and was wanted back there. "Are you nuts", I yelled and to my First Sergeant. From the report given to my first Sergeant, I was informed that I had left a husband and children back in Jamaica and they wanted me back there. In addition there was witchcraft going on. Thus, my First Sergeant, a black man, an African-American wanted me out of his company and gone.  </div> <bR> <div> Imagine me sitting there and telling my First Sergeant that I never have a husband in Jamaica, and furthermore, I had never even conceived in my life, much less having any child or children back there. I said; "Top, you have my records; any children would have long been recorded as part of my personnel file."  </div> <bR> <div> The First Sergeant looked at me in some way, a sense of sadness, and in some ways, not knowing what to do with me, and regarding the orders that were given to him.  I had my First Sergeant to call my gynecologist who had indeed informed him that I was telling the truth, in that my pelvis examination had shown no signs of ever giving birth.  </div> <bR> <div> I toot on vacation to England for three week. Then I took another vacation to Barcelona Spain for another ten days. I need rest and I need it badly. The doctors had so ordered. </div> <bR> <div> The year I first left Jamaica to live permanent in the USA was 1979. I returned in a short period of time to attend my grandfather's Norman funeral. I stay in Jamaica only two days after the funeral. I would return to Jamaica a year-to-a-day- when my father passed away the following year. I had left no ties to Jamaica. I was still fairly young and definitely no children and no husband. In England, I sat down with Uncle Maxie and Aunt Dell and we pondered as to who in Jamaica would have wanted to harm me. My number one enemy that I knew of, Nallis Lindsay was dead. Nellis Lindsay, I had considered my number one enemy at the time. It was only after that Daddy had passed away, and even before the funeral, Nallis had approached Mother-Dearest wishing to buy our family home and property from her. Only after Mother Dearest told him that she would sell him the property, however, Noamie stands in the way.  However, Nallis was now dead, and I had no children with him nether could it have been phrased that I was married to such a person as Nallis Lindsay and or have any children with him. So, we were still left with the question of who! Who as in who was the person practicing witchcraft called Obeah or science on me? This year was 1978, and I haven't gone to Jamaica in over eight long years to say the least. Not only did I felt hurt, I felt dirty. Dirty in a sense that here I was all the way in Germany and amongst decent people and am learning that the root to my illness is witchcraft.  My meals were been spoilt upon getting to me, and when I began to eat them. That there were some 'un-natural forces messing with my meals.' Aunt Dell had me drank Sulphur Bitters even before I would begin eating my meal. [Because] I had left Germany un-announced and before the evil forces could travelled, I had come good days ahead of the powers of darkness to get some much needed rest along with a few good plates of food.  </div> <bR> <div> The forces of Evil was at times so strong about me that none of my pictures would stay up on the shelves. It was like an invisible hand that would come into the room and like a swift wind forced off all my pictures off the shelves. I would notice that 'nothing else' would fall off the shelves except for my pictures, and especially my military pictures.  The half -dozen broken frames, would leave their marks on the one good military pictures that were left after all was done. Not once in all the years would I have even suspected that the person behind all of this was none other than. </div> <bR> <div> In 1990 two month after I learned who it was of over eight years, he himself would have confirmed to me what he had done and how much it had cost him, to make me come to him: Ricky Jackson.</div> <bR> <div> My anger would turn to scorn. The majority of the people, my own blood up in Orange Hill, Westmoreland, felt that I should be honored that indeed I should have felt honored by this gestured, of been able to have someone with drug-dealer wealth to have wanted me. However, silently and quietly, Orange Hill would become a changed place, as the town would become divided between this good and evil. </div> <bR> <div> My Grandparents, Norman and Emma had raised us well. We were considered wealthy amongst the people of the town.  Grandfather Norman had money and had saved a-lot of money through his own hard works of raising cattle and farming. The facts that my father, had worked his ass off in England doing three jobs to provided for me, us, his family, had raised me well, did not support some low-life, small town thinking. More over, I was never impressed with 'easy wealth' and or some one who had no class, mannerism to say the least. What I knew of Ricky Jackson in 1987 and up until 1988 was little, other than that he had indeed gotten involved in Deep Obeah and had, in his initiation, killed his cousin Danny Barrett. London England was buzzing with the news and death of his English Born cousin Danny who had gone to Jamaica to work for Ricky. Lollie Salmon would have succeeded Danny in working and running Rickie Bike Rental Business.   Few people from Jamaicans to tourists knew that the Bike Rental Business operated by Lollie Salmon was indeed owned by Ricky Jackson. The Ricky Jackson who do not front anything for himself, leaving him with all time in the world to practice his crafts, and to get rid of bodies, deads, that is, accordingly. As for the rest around the community of Orange Hill, Negril hills Retirement, he would show-up boldly at their funeral and with pride watched his handy-works, having appointed himself as: god. Once there, he sneaks and looks around for his next victim(s), more often amongst his own people, anther young man another un-expecting person of the community.</div> <bR> <div> Up until most recently, I was not fully aware of the Jamaican history, the practice of witchcraft called obeah, and this was something that was highly illegal in Jamaica. I did recalled when I came to speak out about what had been happening to me in 1990 after I had rejected Ricky Jackson that there were women in the community trying to cover-up my mouth in silencing me. I wasn't aware that I could have gone to the Justice System in Jamaican and file complains against Ricky Jackson. Neither was I aware that indeed they would have believed me, and that there were grounds for me to file a lawsuit against Ricky Jackson for his dirty deeds. Instead, I was made to feel as if it was I, me, Noamie, who had done something wrong by not heeding to and allowing Ricky Jackson to use me for his own purpose. When I did informed him that any further attempt to raping me would be reported to the police, he backed off physically. Then the witchcraft attacks intensified. </div> <bR> <div>  <IMG SRC="377d0900.jpg" border=0 width="720" height="912" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <div> What Paracme and Maverick taught me about  Jamaica and Witchcraft. Things I didnt know: </div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <TABLE BORDER="2" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="506" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER BGCOLOR=#000000 HEIGHT= 1567 WIDTH="496"><bR> <div> It was April 1, 1990. It was a nice Sunday afternoon. Evening came and I made sure that I was in early. Wrinkle and a few guys came down to use the stand -pipe by Grandmother's house.  I was inside when one of them called me to "Come here for a minute, Nun, mek me asked you something." I went out to the gate. We had just finish laughing about the joke when a car came at full speed from around the corner at us. The car was Ricky black Mercedes Benz. He would quickly have me pinned between the other car and his door. I was quickly pushed into his car. The locks were quickly snapped, as in an instant. The little crowd of guys to include Wrinkle had disappear simultaneously, and there I was in Ricky's car been driven away at a speed up the road, and into the wilderness of Mr. Hogg's Cow pasture. </div> <bR> <div> Two days later, he had Carlene to come out and began character assassination against me, if I talk or complain as to what he had done to me. She came out with her propaganda of telling everyone that I was mad and going crazy over Ricky to not believe anything that I have said. Days later I left him a note that he had infected me with some type of female disease, and that I believe was something he had and had given to other women.  Ricky went to Mr. Molyneaux in Sav-la-mar for treatment.  I had gone to another Doctor, not Doctor Molyneaux for treatment, however, Doctor Molyneaux was to learn directly from Ricky himself that indeed he had infected me, as the fool had assumed that it was Dr. Molyneaux that I had gone to for treatment. Dr. Molyneaux was a -long -time boyfriend of mine, and so there was no reason for me to have gone to him. I did however stopped at his office and one of Ricky's watchman who was paid to tailed me all over the place, gave him the wrong information. "You went and slept with Ricky Jackson and let him give you disease after he 's been sleeping with every prostitutes there is," Dr. Molyneaux yelled at me. "I did not, " I yelled back. </div> <bR> <div> <U>Ricky's Love Affair With Mr. Hoggs' Cow Pasture</U>:</div> <div> Majority of the rapes Ricky committed against women is done over in Mr. Hoggs cow pasture. Unsuspecting woman that he picks up either to give a ride to or told that he needs to talk with them, a crafty manipulation tactics of his, ends up been rape by him in the dark corners of West Cliff's pastures. There is no one to hear his victims when they scream for help.   Often times, his victims are left with their shame.  Some with their clothes torn off cannot say a word. Dare to fight him in to process, and you are dead.   He would later bragged about what he has done, and often in the most hurtful satirical form, even in the presence of his female victims, and when his boys are around him. The problems is, there is never anyone to stop him. He is considered 'untouchable.' Even by the Negril Police Department. </div> <bR> <div> Dr. Molyneaux had warned Ricky as I did that he should not be getting any woman pregnant until his body cleans up. I told him to have his girl get treated and to not have any of his women bear any children until the doctor had given him a clean bill of health as any children that he fathered would be born with serious birth defects.   What he and they did was the opposite. Thus his three sons: Jefta was born with a serious heart defect, the other son born deft. The son born from the prostitute in Sav-la-mar has his problems, needless to say.  </div> <div> Three sons,  three serious birth defect. And a  killer is allowed to let loose in Negril.</div> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <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= 51 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> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>