Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

— Did Blackbeard ever pillage and plunder these parts, matey?

— Me only know ’bout Henry Morgan, sah. Also in Jamaica matey is a woman that a man keep that is not him wife.

— Oh. Oops.

It was the long time since I chat bad on purpose, so much so that Doctor Love have to translate two times. At least this one wasn’t like Louis Johnson, holding that memo upside down and pretending to show white people that naigger can’t read, something I still remember. But then he say,

— You poor, precious people don’t even know that you’re on the very verge of anarchy.

— Me no understand. If we precious how we must be poor? Diamond precious.

— But that’s what you are, my boy, a diamond in the rough. So rough this island. So roughly cut and beautiful. And so precarious. By precarious I mean that you’re teetering on the edge. By that I mean—

— Precarious?

— Yes. Exactamente. Exactamente , isn’t that right, Luis? Luis and I go back a ways. Too far back, it seems. A few estados latinos before this one, eh?

— You part of that Bay of Pigs flop show too?

— What? Huh? No, no. That was before my time. Way before my time.

— Well maybe one day you people going find a poison that really work on Castro.

— He-he-he-he, you’re a perceptive one, cunning even, eh? Has Luis been feeding you the news?

— No. The news have been feeding me the news.

Hold on now, Josey Wales. Nothing throw these Americans off more than when they realize that they were wrong about you. Remember to say at least one no problem, mon, and vibrate the mon like this: mohhhhhnnnn, before he drive away, just so he leave thinking he find the right man. For the first time I wish I had dreadlocks or know how to break into the jogging on the spot landing on the one foot hop that Rasta do, even when there is no rhythm to dance to. Because I spend the whole time watching Doctor Love nodding at everything this man say, I almost forget that for most of the time he was trying to tell me that Jamaica is at war. A bigger war than 1976 he say, the first time he say 1976.

The Cold War, he say.

— Do you know what we mean by Cold War?

— War don’t have no temperature.

— What? Oh no, son. Cold War is a term, a figure of… it’s just a name for what’s happening here. You know what? I’ve got something right here… Here, look at this.

The white man take out a colouring book. When you keep playing fool with Americans you learn to expect anything, but this one throw even me off.

— A wha this?

I had it upside down because who need to flip around a cover to read the Democracy Is for US! title. The American look at me holding the book wrong and I know exactly what he was thinking. Look Luis, compadre, I know you know what you’re talking about but you sure we’ve got the right guy?

— It’s a breakdown, that’s what it is. Luis, does he know what… I mean… look. May I have it for a second? Thanks. Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see… Ah! Pages six and seven. See on page six? This is the world in a democracy. See? People in the park. Children running down the ice cream truck, maybe somebody over there is grabbing a Twinkie. Look, see that guy reading a newspaper? And watch that chick, hot, right? Wearing that miniskirt. Who knows what those kids are learning, but they go to school. And every adult in this pic? They can vote. They decide who should leave, I mean lead, the country. Oh yeah, look at the tall buildings. That’s because of progress, markets, freedom. That’s the free market, son. And if anybody in this picture doesn’t like what’s going on they can say so.

— You want me to colour this picture, boss?

— What? No, No. I’ll tell you what. Say I give you a couple dozen for the school you’ve got. We have to get the word out to the young, before these fucking pinko commies recruit them. Fucking freaks, these commies, you know why so many of them are faggots? Because normal people like me and you, we reproduce. Commies? They’re just like homos, they recruit.

Or like any American church that comes here, I think, but don’t say. Instead I say,

— True thing that, boss, true thing.

— Good, good. You’re a good man, Mr. Wales. I feel I can share things with you. I’ll tell you what, this, what you’re about to hear is classified intel. Even Kissinger hasn’t been briefed yet. Even Luis is about to hear this for the first time. Hey Luis, bet you couldn’t guess what is the biggest industry in East Berlin right now? Late-term abortions. Yup, you heard me right, some butcher pulls the baby out of a five, seven, sometimes nine months pregnant chick and slashes its throat just as the neck comes out of her pussy. Can you believe that shit? Things are so bad that a woman will decide to kill her kid rather than let it be born in East Germany. People in East Germany, they line up for everything, just like in the book, Mr. Wales. Line up for fucking soap. You know what they do with the soap? Sell it for food. Poor little bastards can’t even score up a decent cup of coffee so the fucking government mixes that shit with chicory and rye and beet and then calls the whole thing, Michkaffee. Sounds like mischief, eh? I thought I heard everything. Boggles the fucking mind, I tell you. Boggles the fucking mind. You drink coffee, Mr. Wales?

— Me is a tea drinker, sah.

— Good for you, my boy, good for you. But this precious little country you see here? It’ll be Cuba, or worse, East Germany in less than two years if that process isn’t reversed right now. I saw it nearly happen in Chile. I saw it nearly happen in Paraguay. And Lord only knows what’s going to happen to the Dominican Republic.

Some of this is in some way true. But they can’t resist it, these men from the CIA. Once they think you believe them it’s like lying turn into a drug. No, not a drug, a sport. Now let’s see how far I can go with this ignorant naigger. From the corner of my eye I watch him watching me, thinking that I was just the man he expect me to be. By the time Louis Johnson leave he was so impressed that a man who couldn’t read much was so smart. Of course smart in the way a good trained dog was smart, or a good monkey, talking to me about aliens to see if I would, as he say, buy it. But here Mr. Clark get so serious that I look up in the sky to see if it was going to turn grey just to add mood to the story.

— What I’m trying to say is that your country is at a crossroads. The next two years are going to be crucial. Can we count on you?

I don’t know what kind of fuckery answer the man was looking for. What was he expecting me to say, that me coming on board? Maybe I should say aye-aye Cap’n since we’re in Port Royal? Doctor Love shoot me a look, then close his eyes and nod up and down. His way of saying just tell the idiot what he wants to hear, muchacho .

— Me on board ship, sah.

— Glad to hear it. Fucking ace.

Mr. Clark get up to leave, saying that his car will take him back to the Mayfair Hotel where he’s crashing until his apartment is ready. He leave ten dollars U.S. on the table and start to walk, but then turn back and bend down right to my left ear.

— By the way. I’ve noticed you’re making a few trips to Miami and Costa Rica lately. Busy little bee, aren’t you? Of course, the U.S. government has no interest in activities between Jamaica and the members of its diaspora. Assist us in any regard and we will honor that arrangement. Translate that for him, will you, Luis?

— Walk good, Mr. Clark.

— Clark, just ditch—

— The E, I say.

— Hasta la vista!

I look at Doctor Love.

— Him real name Clark?

— My real name Doctor Love?