Because He’s Good to Me

Because He’s Good to Me

by Jasmine Campbell

Sweet mango seeds and mesmerizing palm trees, a breathtaking country indeed. Jamaica is a land of not only adventure, but getaways, and I say that with a double meaning. All is well and beautiful unless you’re in the ghetto, where evil lurks as a pretty smile. Sadly, this is where I reside. My name is Amina. Old Harbour was the place to be when we were young. Water fights and fairs. We had not a worry in the world. You didn’t get killed unless you were a bad person, but that has all gone to the dogs. I turned 17 not too long ago and my parents are already forcing me to take on their religion. Might I say being Muslim in Jamaica is not the safest nor easiest. They want me to be modest but I want to wear basketball shorts and be comfortable in my own skin. A pretty mini dress would be nice too, but that is not my reality. “In the criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous.” Jamaica has no special victims unit, so THIS is my story.

Mommy: “Mina, you’re 17 now. I know you want to be ‘normal,’ but it’s not in your blood to be, baby.”

Amina, angrily: “Why can’t you two love me the way I am?! How can you grow and carry a person for nine months, hear their heartbeat and not protect them?”

Mommy: “We never said we didn’t lo-”

Amina: “Save it! If modest is what you want, then modest you will get. When I turn 18 you two will never have to worry about your embarrassment of a daughter.”

Dad: “AMINA!”

Mommy: “Winston, please don’t, let her calm down.”

Dad, sighs: “What are we going to do with that girl?”

And playing their game is exactly what I did. So that night I told myself that I hated them and after my 18th birthday I’d never return. Half of that was true. I had terrible dreams. An Ol’ Higue, a witch known to feed on the blood of children, appeared to me one night. The old witch looked gristly and grotesque, matted snow white hair and dark skin tinted green. She glared at me with pitiless arachnid-like

eyes and with an almost wheezing voice told me my time wouldn’t be long. Grabbing her nose and pulling her skin off, she transformed into an owl and flew away into the night. I jumped up in a deep cold sweat but I reassured myself that the dream was simply due to my late-night snacking. Boy was I wrong.

Naturally, I’d call her, but, after a sleepless stomach-wrenching night, I desperately needed someone to lean on. Finally talking myself into a space where I was calm enough to wander over by myself, it was time. So slipping on my Chador, I began the journey to my best friend’s house.

White panel van with tints darker than me, a tire that seemed to be on its last breath; this vehicle was starting to look suspiciously familiar. Trying to be the gangster I constantly portray myself to be, I shook off the feeling as being paranoid. However, turning the corner, an eerie sense of dread and panic fell over me. I asked absolutely no questions. Within seconds I found myself sprinting through bushes. Not even Usain could catch me. I ran all the way to a nearby river to hide and gather myself. Barely making it, I felt a sharp tug on my headpiece. A man with a shirt tied around his face was bracing my neck, the next holding a gun to my stomach. This one had a brown bandana over his mouth and nose, almond eyes piercing through my soul. “If you scream, I’ll blow your stomach out,” he said to me. I’ll never forget how I felt his smirk through the bandana. So I stayed quiet.

White panel van with tints darker than me, a tire that seemed to be on its last breath. The vehicle I had shaken off had a trunk with my name on it. What felt like hours went by. Finally, I was taken out and placed into a room. It was hot. Sweat trickled down into my blindfold, stinging my eyes. I felt defeated.

Slow but ominous footsteps approached.

“I won’t hurt you” he almost whispered.

Then it hit me. That voice sent every hair on my body to stand at attention, I refused to believe that this was the man I had trusted all these years ago, but it was a pill I was forced to swallow.

“Your father told me you wanted to be free, so let’s see,” he said in my ear.

As black as I am, I felt like I had turned white. This sacred thing that I worked so hard to keep, the amount of temptation that I overcame so I could make losing it a special moment, yet this is how

it will meet its demise.

I was stripped with blindfold still on; you can take a good guess of what happened next. I didn’t fight back. In the moment you just take it and tell yourself it’s something you must do to stay alive. Thinking the worst was over, I could finally stop holding my breath, wrong. One after the other they “finished” me off, I felt disgusting but disgusting was better than dead, so I took it.

The room is still very much hot, the cold cement floor of the room kept me cool in a way. Rooster was now screaming, signaling that morning had now arrived and by then I lost all track of time. It felt like I’d been there for weeks. Raped numerous times in a day, my spirit was broken. I can confidently say I am no longer the person I was when I went in. The parents I told myself I hated had made a dent in my heart only a warm hug and sugar sweet kisses from them could fill, so I cried. I cried so hard that my sobs echoed and bounced off of the concrete walls. A man came in threatening to knock me out if I didn’t stop, but I couldn’t.

“You think this is a game?” he screamed, grabbing the blindfold off of my face, sending my neck flying down.

I wanted to scream but no sound could come out. I was terrified, so, like Niagara Falls, the tears came crashing down my face. Snot bounced from my nose like Nickelodeon slime. It was time to die.

He left but I learned to not think positive until hours went by. Just as I had felt relief, he came back in and beat on me some more. My feet were untied so I decided it was time to fight back.

“You feel you can overpower me?” He laughed and slapped me in the face.

Cheek red hot and stinging with embarrassment, I stopped being afraid.

HAG PTUI! My spit splattered on his face.

“Go to Hell!” I yelled, biting down on his hand as he tried to choke me.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, whilst punching me in the mouth and throwing me against the wall.

I could feel the blood dripping down my throat: warm, wet and metallic.

I picked up a long sugar cane stick he swung at my head. Using the little strength I had left in my body, I tried to throw up my hands. I swear I did, but I was too late. I could barely stay conscious and the

shocked look on his face told me all that I needed to know.

I shut my eyes and everything went dark.

Emerging from the darkness, I felt a sense of relief. No longer bound with rope or blind-folded, I was surprised to realize that I felt no pain. How did I manage to survive? Suddenly, a man I’d never seen before approached me, wrapped from head to toe in a beautiful white fabric which looked to be made of the finest silk. No words escaped his mouth, but somehow I could hear his voice, rolling off the tongue smooth and deep like thunder, sending chills down my spine.

“Who are you?” I asked, with no response. The silence was thick but strangely peaceful.

Within the blink of an eye, blood began trickling down his garments, screaming. How the hell does blood scream? The silk, too, melted into a large puddle of blood. To my surprise, what emerged from the bloody puddle was no man. The being grew almost 10 feet tall, it had no face or body, just a ball of energy with wings as big as my body. It was mesmerizing.

“Do you want to die, Amina?”

“No.”

“Well it’s a little too late for that, my baby, you’ve been asleep in limbo for a quarter of a century. It’s time I came to collect you.”

“Who are you, what is limbo and how could I be in it for 25 years if I just closed my eyes?” I asked, chuckling. This was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

I pinched myself. I’m dreaming, aren’t I?

Without a second thought, it whispered secrets to me only a dead man would know. I froze.

“They took your last breath and left you stuck between two drastically different worlds for longer than you had been alive. But, if you take my hand and go with me, you can live again.”

I was feeling so many emotions, anger overpowering them all. My once-warm body was icy cold, my once-melanated skin pale and discolored. Denial really is the first step. How could I be dead? It was something that surpassed me. Now here comes this hideous thing in which I oddly found peace, telling me that I could live again, that I could see my parents again. How could I refuse? So, foolishly, I agreed. With that, a hand formed from the tip of its wings, skinny with merely a pointer and pinky finger. I shook it. Strangely enough, it pulled me closer, a warm embrace in which I hadn’t felt before.

Looking up, it was no longer a thing, but a handsome man. Tall, skin dripping with melanin and any element that I had ever found elegant. They do say he comes to you as everything you’ve ever wanted.

A beautiful harp melody played. It was divine and unlike anything I’d ever heard before. The sound blessed my ears like velvet. Then, as if levitating, we began to dance.

Resting my head on his chest, I asked for the third time, “Who are you?”

“Iblis,” he softly whispered into my ear

They say being exploited at a young age leads to promiscuous behaviour and rebellion. In that case:

Lord forgive me not for I have sinned,

Forgive me because I enjoyed it.

He took not only my heart, but mind, body and soul. I had made a deal and danced with the devil . . . May God have mercy on me.