Just to back up a bit, the initial part of my father moved into the Spanish town.

Hwasa took care

of a property that my grand uncle had owned while he was in England. We lived at our property
for about 2 years and life was good because Dad would go out and cut people’s yard; he would
earn money and buy groceries. There was a big house but since my granduncle had rented a part
of it, rent was a pain but my father was getting a portion of it for upkeeping the property while
my god uncle is away. I think it was shortly after that, granduncle came to Jamaica with his wife
to settle down. The moment he arrived on the island said to my dad that you know what he's
going to sell that house so my dad had to move out. Those two years I think were two of the best
years of my life in many ways. That's when I fell in love with playing cricket, develop some
friendship. Two years I can recall them good; it was the reprieve that I received after leaving off
my dad and left my momma and went to Spanish town. There were about two weeks of reprived
there; then my great uncle came to Jamaica.

And that's when I remembered I was only two years old and then I can vividly recall itself, saw
my mom chasing my dad with a machete every day. They would fight and as I sit and talk about
this, I'm going back at the age of 2 maybe younger.

I know Science and love neuroscience and other things. We look at that most memory starts
about 3:00 to 4:00 but because of her traumatic experience, my early years were I can vividly
recall my mom swearing and crossing at my dad calling him “lazy and good for nothing” and they
would go on and on. She would verbally, psychologically, and physically abuse him while dad
would do everything. I can still recollect this that my dad at times would do all just not to stay at
home. When he left, I would cry hardly as 2 years olds would do. I can remember my dad leaving
the house and I'm just learning to properly walk around at this point and I can remember crying
whenever my dad would go somewhere because he was doing everything possible to avoid my
mom. I'm not sharing this to say my mom is a bad person, maybe she went through her stress. I
never grew up with her so I have no idea but I don't think she's a bad person. I think she was just
going through our stuff and trying to figure out things for herself and she’s on the stage where
her life with my dad and would have others. I was her second child; my brother was born to
another man so maybe she was going through some stuff and her stuff was being transferred
and how she learned certain things. The reality of this is not to put blame on my mom or my dad
or is not to put blame on anyone. I think you know it's a blessing that they brought me into the
world and I'm really happy that she brought me to the world.

I think the constant abuse that my dad got was the reason he decided that he was going to take
me and leave my mother and that itself was an interesting endeavor because as I said before, my
dad took me and my mom came chasing after me and my dad and they hit me so that my mom
could not find me and I'm aware I was hiding and I could see my mom being there and again this
is 2 years old turning into three years old. For some reason, I was very quiet when she came
searching. I remember it's almost like an Attica was hidden in and I remain very quiet because at
that age I wanted to be with my dad. I've always really wanted to be with my dad so even when
my mom searching, I was hidden in that attic and would not make a sound and she can see her
the little hole I was looking through I could see her searching and asking questions and cursing
and swearing and I was extremely quiet until she left and that's when my dad took me and we
went to the route of the city of Spanish town; where my great uncle lives. At the time or we
might go to uncle’s houses at the time. At this time, Uncle was not there. He was in England, but
my father had some communication with him apparently; we were able to stay at one of his
houses in the area. At first, I thought things were really good since had some support from my
dad. He would go and work while I remembered staying with one of the neighbors who were
very kind. My dad will go to work and come back. That went on for some time that we were
living in that house and I can recall those were good years. It was just me and my dad and he
would go to work, come home, pick me up, and eventually I started basic school. It was about
time that I started basic school or kindergarten as we know it now. As you know, my God uncle
came to Jamaica returned to after, he sold the house that my father was living in and then my
father went and lived at the house that he was living and is where the abuse started that I spoke
of later in this book I'm not sure if it makes sense.

My name is Courtney Dookie and I was born and raised in Jamaica between my birth and at age
2, I lived with my mom and my dad my mom was a state to a model my dad was a small craft a
fisherman. Ever since I can remember my mom and I'd was always fighting or should I say my
mom was always angry at my dad I remember days my dad would get home in the mornings
from work and once he entered the house there will be an argument. I was just two years old
about 1 1/2 two years old and I can vividly remember it. Sometimes my dad would get very
frustrated and just run out of the house they were swearing and throwing things. My mom
seems like does not like my dad and became rude and offensive to him. At one point I saw her
chasing him with a machete and I could just see my dad running for his life. Other times she
would shove him even though my dad is a very kind and patient person as he doesn't like conflict
and tends to avoid fights. I guess by the time I turned 2 years old my dad is ready to end with the
challenges, fights, and the frustration from their relationship. But by this time, I had a sister.
Well, my sister was when I was just two years old. She was about a year old while I was two
going to three and remember my dad said, “Courtney we're leaving.” I never understood much
of what he meant but we were leaving and my dad saying let's go and just like that, I walk with
him since I am very attached to my dad and would cry whenever he leaves whether he’ll go to
the beach or fishing or whenever he would just go on the street, I will cry profusely just to be
with him wherever he is. So my dad decided that we're going to leave and he was aware of
where my mom was and because it did not want to get in any conflict with her he went the
opposite direction. I remember going with him and then eventually my mom found out that my
dad was taking me away and of course she came chasing after us and we crossed over this is sort
of a river that connects with the ocean. He runs with me to a house and he asked if they can hide
me since my mom was coming and my dad wants to take me with him. I wanted to go with my
dad so I was very compliant. I was very well taught at the school. I can see my mom caught up
with my dad and they were in this fight and my mom asked in an accent, “Where is Courtney?”
my dad was like, “You're not getting him back.” She searched every entrance while I was almost
hidden in this sort of an attic. I saw my mom came in. I tried to be as quiet as possible because I
did not want to go back with her. Eventually, she left and I came down, went with my dad.
We went to live in this Spanish town, Jamaica with my dad's uncle, Morgan. This is sort of where
my life started an interesting journey. My dad would do things around the house to help my
granduncle and earn money so he could buy stuff and food, pay bills. But after a while, it was all
conflict between my granduncle who is a very heavy drinker. Whenever he drinks he will have he
will swear and he will say nasty things to those around him. I remember my dad spent about six
months there with him. He really loved his uncle. They were very close but eventually, I died God
did a job to caught sugar cane want to work in a sugar plantation. He decided to take the job but
think I was a problem getting to be about four years old now. I can remember my father waking
up five o'clock in the mornings to take me to a neighbor to stay there and he would go to start
his work on the plantation. Then, he will come back and get me to get me ready to send me off
to school. We lived in this one-bedroom house with a little outdoor kitchen but there was no
bathroom. We slept on the floor; there was no bed. My dad would take all the clothing out of
the bag that we had and he would spread the clothing underground so it forms is sort of a
cushion for us to sleep in. I remember waking up in the night and wanted to use a bathroom and
it's one 2:00 AM and I had to go outside. This went on for about a year. The amount of money
my dad was getting was just enough to buy food. I started school while I was living in that house
life. It was really difficult; never had clothing much other than shoes that were bigger than my
size and had to a stuffed paper inside so it can fit perfectly. I had to use a cloth to get a shower
because there were no rags. We did that and have gotten year by year. It seems like it doesn't
matter how much my dad work it seems like we were just not getting anywhere. He works
sometimes for these people who would not pay him or promise to pay and the money never
showed up but he kept on trying and he worked on this plantation.

For about a year, he then decided that we're going to go back to my granduncle house to live.
They reconnected and then right there I got uncle needed help around the house so my father is
very handy in helping but one it was good for my dad being there. My uncle gets someone, my
dad. He never normally get drunk but they enjoy a drink with my grand-uncle so why my father
will do one beer in 3 four hours. My God, he would go through five or six bottles but my dad
does not normally drink but there he was, drinking with my granduncle while enjoying company,
having someone to drink with all the time. So while it was some degree good for my dad that he
could have someone to drink to talk to sort of enjoying well for me it was a different story for
some reason once my grand-uncle would drink, I became the target for severe abuse both
verbally and physically. He will be pushing me and shoving me. Even hitting me and saying
negative things like, “you won't become anything good,” “you, you're worthless,” ”you why are
you still alive?” He does this whenever he’s drunk while I looked in my dad's eyes and I can see
like he wants to cry and could feel the pain I was going through but for him, I think in his mind: if
he stood up to his uncle his long hood kicked him out, we would not have anywhere to go, my
dad never wants us to live on the street. Our struggle never wanted to go back to our older life
or at least not yet because that reminds him of the conflict and difficulties he had with my mom.
We were caught between a rock and a hard place where my dad wanted to help, he wanted to
do something for me but for some reason he couldn't do it. Because we never want us at the
end of the street.
I remembered one day while my granduncle was drunk I probably was about 5 six years old and I
don't know but I think I was eating something; however there was a cookie that I was eating and
he thought that you know the cookie was from like what he had purchased which he wasn't but
he was drunk and he thought that I was taking things from his cupboard to eat but that's
something he was very sensitive about, he doesn't share food that is something for him. He
doesn't like to give it to you literally perfect feed his dogs well at least to me but to feed the dogs
and he would do this then they say he would take the food and he would give it to the dogs then
I will be there hungry wishing I could get some of that. That child remembers this day when I had
the cookie and my honey thought had taken it from his company he took this frying pan and he
hit me over the head with it. I knocked out underground I was told that I was probably knocked
out I was probably out unconscious about 45 minutes. I can see upon my dad with tears in his
eyes while my great uncle is looking at me. There was no pity, nothing. He just looked at me as if
to say “get up nothing is wrong with you.”

It was from that point onward I decided that anyone that lay their hands on me I will defend
myself and it does not matter the consequences. This is where you said trouble starts. Every time
my granduncle lift his hands or said something to me as feedback, whenever he hit me, I rushed
outside and found some stones. I thought of throwing stones at him. Glasses were broken.
Damaged mirrors in the house. At this point, my granduncle recognized that never again will I
allow him to lay a hand on me. I became very angry. Don't get me wrong I know my dad loved
me but he wasn't defending me so I decided that I'm going to defend myself at this young age. I
decided that no one will hurt me or say something to me that I will not defend myself.

Sargent had become became very crude and Cullison aggressive while some would call passively
aggressive this intense conflict between a 6 year or 7 years old. my god uncle in time for some
time I would still try to go to school at least I used to go to school. Two to three days a week
that's all my dad could afford from whatever he was making from helping out my Bronco. Every
single day my god uncle tells me “I'm lazy,” “I'm worthless,” “I'm good for nothing.” In other
words, you remember one day he said that he doesn't even know why I was alive but the funny
thing about it when he's not drunk sometimes he could be very nice to me and gives me hope,
says things that he would do for me because he was a man with well. He had worked in England
for years and came back to Jamaica retired with his wife and one of the things I remember is that
my dad my Grand-uncle were discussing projects that we're supposed to do. They want a certain
type of wood mangrove wood and to do the project that they were they wanted to do and my
father said to him, “Look I can get you the mangrove would I just have to get a few friends and
borrow their boats and then we could go and cut the wood.” My grand-uncle said, “Sure we can
do it.”

So they organized the trip and I remember this was the first time going back to that river that my
dad had crossed with me to go on the other side where he hid me from my mom. I remember
going back. I vividly recall that this time when we went back I was wearing a red shirt with black
shorts and barefooted. My dad saying to me that I should stay with my uncle's wife and they're
going to go and cut these woods and come back I said, “No, not steam.” They said, “No stay with
him” and I said, “No. I'm not staying.” I remembered I cry profusely to go with my dad. My dad
eventually says, ”sure I'll take him with me. I remembered getting into the boat and we set off on
the ocean to this area in which they were going to cut the woods. We spent about 2 hours out
there.We came back to get the Woods in the truck can we head home but a time when we by
the time we got home my grand uncle's wife got a stroke in which our entire legs or hands
became paralyzed this was going to be a change in my granduncle's life because he would not
have to take care of his wife but the thing that struck me was that things became worse for me
at the house. Why for some reason my granduncle blamed me for getting his wife sick he said
that if I had stayed with her she wouldn't have gotten sick. The fact that I went on the boat with
them. The reason she got sick, the hatred the anger all of that anger and hatred and frustration
was turned just to me and I am only about 7 years old. He would swear at me. I was angry at him
to because I decided I'm not going to take this anymore. Whenever he sees me in the house, I
became the symbol to him of a person who made his wife sick.

Guess my dad finally recognized it was getting from bad to worst. It was getting terrible so we
decided that we're going to move back to old Arbor Bay and had to live with my grandmother,
my father's mom. She owned a one bedroom-house. That is where went back to live a life wasn't
easy. There was a scarcity in that community.

I developed some friends 'cause from Iowa. Guess when I went there, the open community
developed some good friends in the area. Oftentimes I will see them eating their dinner and
wishing that I could get some. Well, my father always taught me not to let other people know we
are desperate need we were in. Because in that community of people know; let's say we call it to
know your business they can use it against you and they will look down on you, scorn you.

So my father taught me how to create at least an image and image that I learn eventually. It
taught me what we call ‘contentment’. In other words, if I only had one morsel of flour to eat
that only satisfied. There are many days we only could afford to buy half-pound rice and a
flower. In those days, we plan to mint tree outside and will make some mint tea without sugar
and will drink the minty and eat the big dumplings or we will cook the rice and we might have
butter with satisfactory. You would know that there's a young man who would probably wish
inside that he would have certain things and would go to his friend. I would go to my friend’s
house and I'll see that eating some food and I tell you it looks delicious I would give up anything
just to have some of that meal but I've kept my head up: if you would call it that and wouldn't.
Even ask them actually sometimes when I see them going to eat their dinner I will just say, “Hey
guys. I'll see you later.” and I'll go home because never want to torture myself to see them eating
something that I desire that I could have again.

The school was a weird thing as mentioned before even at this point I was still I started to attend
old harbor Bay primary school and I was only going to school for 3 four days a week sometimes
two never on Friday. Friday's was a day to try to figure out a way to survive my father would go
to CNN Inefficient business. Sometimes, you catch fish sometimes you don't. Like faith when you
go to see his life with you may catch some fish again he was going to fish with others and these
people go to see. With then, they get back there to cover their expenses could learn. The
business will take out their gas money. Both money for net monitor repaired and nets or
whatever expenses that will take out. Another has taken out the expense whatever is left that's
what they were sure amongst themselves but given that my father has no part of that he was
just going with them. Oftentimes what it will get is almost you could barely afford to survive on
that but nonetheless, he kept on doing it. That's one of the things I loved about my dad he never
gives up many keys portion meal it will come back. I hear him say something corny you know
what that's what I was a little boy but he will explain these things but that's all I get. Oftentimes I
could see the sadness on his face that the things you wanted to get me but for some reason, you
couldn't do it because we never had to keep doing that. I lived in old Overbey, therefore mother
three years or so probably was about 10 years old from now and this life wasn't getting better.

Nothing seemed to be progressing. The summaries and as I said before my dad had a very close
relationship with his great uncle. So my granduncle came, I remember now about three years in
my grand uncle came to hold harbour Bay to visit his sister which is my father's mom and he said
to my father, “You know there's some work at the house we're starting a new project we're
building a new part for the house, yeah this house” and he was building this huge addition to it
and he said to my father's work, “Come and do some work.” My dad said yes so we packed up
whatever we had there and went back to my grand uncle’s house it was another series of abuse
right where we left off wasn't long after he started again. I used to find solace tropes or
whatever you want to call it. My god uncle, he keeps on adding to this house and the more you
add to it, you would rent property and the people who rent the house to sometimes they will be
the one to rescue me they'll give me meals to eat and their stay around their part of the house
so I could be safe from him.

It was during this time that I experienced something that I've never spoken about until now
there's one guy who was renting from my god uncle, one of the one-bedroom suites. This guy
was very it was very kind whenever I get into a conflict or never mind started to treat me
negatively, tried to help him developed a good relationship with my dad. My dad trusted him. I
trusted him too. Remember, sometimes when my god uncle that let me into the house because
to get to the room where my dad was sleeping after going through the house this guy would
allow me to stay at his place for the first couple months was okay, a normal probable line is a
couch and I was sleeping his couch.

Then, one day he asked me if I would prefer to sleep. I wasn't thinking too much of that sort so
said yes again the first couple of times I slept there was OK And I remember one night while I
was sleeping spell his time going on the mic load. He started to rub his hand over my body. I
became shocked, frozen, and scared of not knowing what to do. We're rolling away, I jumped up.
I composed myself and he started to say to me is that it’s okay will take care of me I remember
rushing out of that place. It was probably about 11:00 PM to 12 midnight and rushed out of
there everybody was sleeping by this time. When I rushed out, he never followed me. He stayed
in the house while I went outside and I sat at the steps. That's where I spend the night. “You
never told me, buddy about that”, because I was so ashamed and so scared of what they would
think or if will they believe me. They are not still I said until I've never shared that with anyone
dictate in this book or write in this book the first time. I'm actually talking about one of those
things that happened in my life that I buried because of the shame and the guilt and don't get
me wrong I know nothing within that day that is my fault. I know that but I'm from a society in
Jamaica in which things like this and I feel like killing that guy. I was a young boy but I wish I had
the power to kill him. I would've known I thought many times and how I remembered he never
did anything. I said before he grabbed me for the moment he made his first moved as well I
found him out I remember plot in my mind many ways I could kill him one of those things I
couldn't talk to anybody about so basically I created a mental space and I put it there never open
it until talking about this.

I locked away this thing so deep in my mind that even though I sit to write this book and I think
about the experience somehow I can see big pieces of his face but somehow I cannot see a full
picture of his face but what I can remember was the details of that bedroom where everything
was the color everything I can vividly see it in my mind but somehow I cannot see his face.