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a dont tink is she dis but


(This is the first excerpt from the soon-to-be-launched book on dancehall superstar Beenie Man, entitled Who Am I?: The Untold Story of Beenie Man (Great House, Kingston, Jamaica). Over the following weeks, Sunday Entertainment will give our readers excerpts from this biography written by journalist Milton Wray.)

Beenie Man… biography soon to be released
“Open the [email protected]&&^ [email protected]#%* car!” barked one of the gunmen, his hand steadily holding his pistol. He pointed the gun directly at her pregnant abdomen. Jacqueline was frightened, and with trembling fingers she fumbled with the car key until she managed to insert it into the keyhole and unlock the door of her Honda. It was approaching late evening. The shopping plazas in Half-Way-Tree were still teeming with shoppers, but no one seemed to notice.

She had come to the shops to fill her prescription for the iron tablets, recommended by her prenatal caregivers. Just minutes before, she had made her purchase, with no premonitions, no warning of the danger that awaited her in the parking lot, where the hoodlums had been lurking.

“Woman, go inna de [email protected]&& [email protected]#%* car and drive!” one of the gunmen demanded. Jackie winced at his shiny, silver-looking gun. “Okay, okay, don’t shoot,” she begged nervously, stiffly sliding into the driver’s seat of the car. The man with the silver-looking gun slid in beside her, while his accomplice opened the back door and frantically ducked.

“Drive!” the gunman ordered menacingly, his gun trained on her belly. She felt she had invited this upon herself. She had always worn too much jewellery. She loved jewellery. After all, she owned her own store and chose the finest and richest pieces for herself, even when she was dressed casually. She never gave enough thought to the possibility of being targeted. But it was her jewellery that had attracted these thugs now, and they didn’t care that she was pregnant.

Her heart was pounding violently, her knees weak as she steered out of the parking lot. A million questions raced through her mind. If they wanted her jewellery, they could have snatched the necklaces, watch and bracelets and disappeared. They clearly were not after her jewellery. So what exactly did they want? Were they assassins sent to extinguish her for some foul reason of which she was unaware? Who would be behind such a sinister plot? She checked the mirror for the face of the man in the back, but it was unfamiliar. Neither was she familiar with the face beside her. Both were just featureless masses of danger. She had to be brave. She was certain she was quivering, but she had to be brave. “What unnu want?” she stammered, as the car headed down busy Half-Way-Tree Road.

“Just shut yu mouth and drive the car,” snapped the one in the back. Jackie could see his face in her mirror now. He was as ugly as his voice. The other one, the one with the silver-looking gun, was younger.

She thought of Beenie Man. He would be devastated by her death. They were living together now, sharing a life as they prepared for the arrival of their newborn, the bundle of joy that would seal their bond. With one hand on the steering wheel, she brought her free hand to her tummy. Her baby.

If she should be killed, her baby would die too. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was now three months pregnant and the outlines were obvious, but these brutes didn’t care. She would be wasting her time trying to beg for her baby’s life.

She remained silent. The only voices were their gruff, demanding barks, directing her to drive here and there, to turn left, turn right, drive faster. They ordered her to Three Miles, then on to Seaview Gardens, the volatile ghetto settlement off Spanish Town Road. Her mind was like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. How could she possibly escape this drive to death? She wanted to jump from the car, or at least shout to some passerby. But their guns were permanently trained on her. She couldn’t risk it. She could not fight back because she would be easily outmanoeuvered, she knew. There was no question about it – she would be instantly shot dead. There was nothing she could do. The only power she possessed was words.

“Mi not going too far into Seaview Gardens,” she said. At that moment, without warning, Silver Gun slammed the butt of his pistol against the side of her head, sending pain slicing through her skull.

She clutched the painful area with one hand, fighting to control the car with the other. The car swerved frightfully, but she quickly steadied it in time.

Ugly reached over and smacked her restrainedly across one cheek, and her watery eyes broke their banks, streaming tears down her cheeks.

“Shut yu mout’ gal, before mi shoot yu,” Ugly growled.

Jackie knew she had to be strong. Her life could not end like this, not at the hands of these rascals who lived for nothing. She bit her lip and wiped tears from her face with her free hand, fighting hard to calm herself and concentrate. She had to concentrate.

From Seaview Gardens, they directed her up Penwood Road to Waterhouse. Waterhouse. Beenie Man was from Waterhouse. Did this have anything to do with him? She was not sure. So what exactly were they searching for? Why were they forcing her to wander around aimlessly? Her hands on the steering wheel were sweaty and numb, her eyes blurry and swollen, her head pounding. But she followed every directive.

After a series of acerbic barks, “Turn left, turn right, stop yah so, drive now gyal”, it finally occurred to her – they were trying to find the ideal place to slaughter her and hide her lifeless body so she would never be found.

She was exhausted, hungry, faint and feeling worthless. By now it was late evening and the first signs of darkness were beginning to descend over the city, casting a ghostly pall over the slums through which she was being directed. She had been driving around for almost an hour, obeying the commands of men from hell who now held sway over her future. What if she refused to drive any further? What if she simply depressed the brake pedal this very minute and refused to budge? She quickly perished the thought. It would be equivalent to suicide. But what choice did she have now? She was going to die anyway, and her baby was going to die too.
Oh, her baby.

Traffic was light as the two captains of her fate directed her through Waterhouse and on to Patrick City, then Maxfield Avenue. When she drove onto the lower section of Maxfield Avenue, she was pointed down a deserted cul de sac that curled like a deadly snake off the feared thoroughfare.

It was a narrow and short dead-end road, lifeless and eerily silent, with only mounds of green shrubbery on both sides. Jackie feebly navigated the car down the gravely path, driving slowly, emptied now of all her strength.

“Stop yah so gyal!” Silver Gun suddenly sneered.

Jackie immediately depressed her brake pedal and brought the car to a stop near a clump of brush that had grown out into the roadway. It must have seemed the middle of nowhere, this spot where her life was supposed to end. Her baby would never live to see his father’s face. How would he recover when he learnt that he had lost his child to invisible murderers that only she had seen? With her dead, the unthinking scoundrels would be unidentifiable.

“No noise.” Ugly said menacingly as he reached over, switched the engine off, and removed the ignition key.

“Mek wi give this gal something fi remember,” he suggested to his accomplice.

Jackie shivered at the thought of being raped. Surreptitiously, she checked all three mirrors, hoping for a sign of someone, something.

“Hey gyal, yu know how much people we kill and throw over deh so?” Silver Gun bragged threateningly, pointing to an overgrown empty lot across the road that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Wha’yu have inna yu bag, gyal?!” snapped Silver Gun.

Jackie was too weak to speak.

He grabbed her leather handbag and emptied out its contents, dumping everything on the back seat, including coins and her ATM card. “Wha’ de number fi dis?” he asked, holding the banking card.

She weakly muttered a fake sequence of numbers, and he found pen and paper among the stuff from her handbag, scribbled down the false PIN, then pocketed the ATM card.

“When we done wid yu, we ah go want the car,” Ugly spat, handing her a few of the coins from her handbag. “Pay yu bus fare with this. and don’t go to the police.!” he warned sternly.

Just then, he was cut off by the sound of oncoming voices. Jackie replayed the words that stood out most in her mind: “when we done wid yu.”

What exactly were they planning to do to her? If it was what she was thinking, then they might as well just shoot her that minute. She would never allow them to do as they pleased with her pregnant body. She would rather die.

The oncoming voices were becoming more discernable, bearing down now.

“Some people ah come,” Silver Gun said in a subdued tone, looking about anxiously. Jackie checked her rearview mirror and saw a small group of people approaching from the mouth of the cul de sac. She knew it was her last hope. She could not allow the passersby to leave her here to die. But what exactly would she do to get their attention and to alert them to her danger? She had to be extra careful because she could place them all in grave danger too, she was aware. Her captors had guns and surely were not afraid to use them. Both Ugly and Silver Gun fell silent.

As the group of passersby appeared ominously close, from a cursory glance, based on their attire, Jackie could tell that the people in the group were returning from an evening of worship. The Lord had sent them to deliver her.

They were engaged in lively chatter. Jackie’s mind was racing. How could she attract their attention without getting her stomach blown to bits? She had to do something before it was too late.
At that moment, one of her captors – she didn’t care which one – uttered a line of foul expletives. Then, “Make we leave this place,” said the voice of Ugly.

Silver Gun turned to Jackie. “Get out!” he ordered, and Jackie opened her door. She feebly wobbled from her car. Ugly slid over into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut and sped away.


Beenie Man was outraged. He was furious and confounded. Who would want to harm Jacqueline? She was a perfect soul, with not a shred of ill will to her being. But two nincompoops had obviously mistaken her for someone else. She was three months pregnant. Couldn’t they tell, or was it that they simply didn’t care who they targeted? She must have been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

She had arrived home crying uncontrollably. And as she related the harrowing nightmare at the edge of hysteria and disorientation, Beenie had been livid. And when she had been through relating her ordeal, he realised that in the midst of the distress, there was still reason to be thankful. Because Jackie was still alive, and that single fact was most precious.

His whys, wherefores and hows were numerous, and she shared every infinite detail. Beenie was as hurt as she was, but he had to be strong for her. He accompanied her to the police station where she gave a formal statement. Not much could be expected from the police, they both knew. Her car would never be recovered and her assailants would never be caught, but it was all they could do.

The major concern now was the child she was carrying. After they left the police station, they both went to a nearby doctor’s office. The checks revealed no evident immediate physical harm. But they both knew that the deep, gruesome scars that had been inflicted by her tormenters were invisible to the naked eye. The wounds were buried beneath the surface.

It was one month later, during a regular prenatal visit, that the abnormalities were finally discovered. And her caregivers referred her for immediate medical attention.

When the referral was followed through, their suspicions were confirmed. The visit would be the first of many over the ensuing two months, as doctors desperately attempted to rectify what had gone wrong. But the distress she had survived had been much too severe for her fragile unborn child. And every attempt at corrective measures would fail to reverse the complications.

Two months later, when Jackie was seven months pregnant, in their wisdom, her doctors finally came to the decision that it had to be now or never. And Jacqueline agreed to the C-section.

And when her little girl was delivered, nothing else mattered. It was a magical moment. The doctors said Moses and Jackie’s baby would be fine. Their daughter was adorable. They named her Ashley-Jade.


  • Met From Jamaican Groupies says:

    bwaay beenie man obeah man fail dis yah test yah… him cudden even gi jackie a likkle waaaanin>>>>>

  • Anonymous says:

    bwoy. she get bless pon dat fi real

  • Met From Jamaican Groupies says:


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