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Isaiah Jones versus the Sea (A 21st Century Odyssey)  

‘The Polly’ Situation: The Good that Men Do*** :  

“The evil that men do lives after them; 

The good is oft interred with their bones; 

So let it be with Caesar.” 

 -Marc Anthony  

Act 3, Scene 2 of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar;  

Isaiah and Polly sat across from each other in The Castillo de los Tres Reyes del Morro the view from the mansion atop the fortress with its spectacular view of the city of Havana behind the harbor, the entrance to the 300-year-old Spanish fortress that guarded the port of Havana was now Dead Eye Polly Ovejero’s living room with the massive marble chess set between them the king and queen each the size of an Acme brick; Isaiah was black, the albino white.

“I know that you are a mathematician, beneath those degrees in engineering and physics is a man who crunches the numbers. That being said I must ask. Do you know much about economics Senor Jones?”  

“Only that I have never met a rich economist or psychic, the young math prodigy retorted with a grin.  do with that information what you will.”

Dead Eye Polly Ovejero erupted with laughter, the act of laughing open his air passages in the same way they did when he sang and instead of his high adenoidal Capote-esque speaking voice, his rarely heard laughter like his singing voice was the rich baritone that you would expect from a man of his impressive stature; at 6 ft 9 inches tall and 413 lbs. the one-eyed albino negro left an impression on the few that saw him and lived. “I, like the old school organizations of my father’s day that I studied under growing up learned how to earn points to make money.”

Polly sat back in the deep crimson leather upholstered cushioned seat, in his Chinese white silk Armani smoking jacket as he puffed his Havana before taking a dainty pinky extended sip of his bourbon while he studied the young man seated across the table from him. He gazed into the bright green eyes with his cool blue eye. He knew he should be sad, heartbroken, and in mourning, and he was. But, he was also ecstatic, and oddly enough overjoyed; because had his fucking moron of a son, Caesar, not gotten himself killed and his best asset Naomi shot then he would not be sitting here tonight playing chess with this boy who was everything his son never was or could ever be. In Isaiah Jones he saw the son he never had, the son his own dead boy could never be. Polly realized that he respected Senor Jones as a man, this was something his late son never earned.  

“There are certain vices people partake in that are universal; gambling, fucking, and dope. I operate on the most basic economic principal, simple supply and demand. If there is no demand then I do not supply. Thus, all over the world whenever governments and theologians erect false barriers between a people and their pleasures, I step in to provide a much-desired service, minus moral judgments, for a small fee of course.”

“Whenever anyone chooses to enter this life, they enter my world and once they reach a certain income level as a major player, they come on my radar so to speak. From that moment on I collect 1 percent of the Gross for the rest of your life. How ever long or short that is completely up to you, and how timely you are with your payments and how well you keep your books. If you are not in my line of work, you are invisible to us, you do not exist, we ignore you. But, when you choose to wade into the tank with the sharks well, the one-eyed albino grinned, all we do is eat.”  

“I, am the one percent, so to speak.” The albino puffed the cigar and exhaled a long pale blue grey plume of smoke before he took another sip of his bourbon. 

‘That is after all the vice squads sole purpose ;secular or religious, it’s about one thing; who controls you, the institutions or are you in control? Now, I must ask for your help on a matter of business. I have some minor issues that with some people, professional acquaintances from Turkey who have decided to play games with my points by sending the net, rather than the gross. The Turk has a shipment coming in that makes his bank for the year.”   

“What do you want me to do, Isaiah asked studying the board. steal it?”  

“No, the albino chuckled, nothing so dramatic. I do not wish to steal it, that would not send the message these people can hear. Polly sighed. My men will be onboard as part of the crew, they will take over the ship and meet you at the coordinates marked in the envelope, the cash is just a small per dium, a stipend for your trouble’s son.”

“My men they cannot transport the tools they need to complete the job, the authorities’ scanners or dogs might detect them, so we need you to meet them with a package. When you leave Barbados in two months according to your itinerary, the ship will be running dark but that will not be a problem for you, Naomi informs me that you are ASA 108 certified, using astronavigation as a part of your masters / doctorate dissertation, so running dark will be no problem for a man who already uses a sextant and a compass every day.” Polly sipped the bourbon and looked at the emerald eyed teen with his pale blue eye. “Do this favor for me Senor Jones and I will consider myself in your debt.”  

Isaiah leaned forward over the chess board reached out and shook the albino’s hand. The deal was sealed there was nothing random or chaotic about his violence it was focused brutal but purposeful even necessary in his line of work. Isaiah wasn’t afraid of Dead Eye Polly at all now that he knew him, he understood they saw the world the same way. They were both sailors, he wondered if the albino was a high functioning autistic or on the spectrum in anyway like he was, Polly wasn’t a psychopath, he was just brutally logical.   

“Checkmate Senor Ovejero.” Isaiah said. Toppling Polly’s white king with his black bishop as the albino looked on with a grin and the aged Bruja sat nearby as always at the dining room table rolling cigars in silence. Only then did he noticed the ornate back of her chair he assumed Polly was sitting in, it was the seat she had been sitting in the entire evening he had been wrong. It was not the albino who sat at the head of the table but Abuelita Orúnmila smiling.  

[Notes]: on the cigar roller  

Abuelita Orúnmila (née Circe Catarina DuBois, nicknamed Ceecee DuBois)  

Age:69  

Physical Description: Abuelita Orúnmila is a dignified woman with striking, deep-set eyes that hold a lifetime of wisdom. Her white hair is worn in long, intricate braids reminiscent of the goddess Circe, adding an aura of mystique and reverence to her presence. Her dark skin is marked by the lines of age and experience. She often dresses in elaborate, vibrant clothing that reflects her Afro-Cuban heritage, adorned with symbols of her dual faith in Santería and Catholicism.  

Background:   

Born Circe Catarina DuBois, affectionately known as Ceecee, , raiesed in a small-town outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana steeped in Vodun traditions, Abuelita Orúnmila was deeply influenced by her family’s involvement in the spiritual and mystical practices of the old region. Her mother, a revered Vodun priestess, was a close friend of the late queen of the order—Dead Eye Polly’s mother. Ceecee’s early life was shaped by the sacred traditions from the Asante, Akan and Twi speaking shamen of Ghana, molding her into a powerful figure within both Vodun and Santería.  

Connection to Dead Eye Polly:   

When Dead Eye Polly, then a young and ambitious figure in Louisiana, began his rise to power, Ceecee was a constant and loyal presence by his side. She was one of two Vodun priestesses who accompanied him as he left Louisiana for Havana, where he would assume his late father’s position among the powerful bosses of the Cuban underworld. Her role was both spiritual and strategic, guiding him with her wisdom and ensuring a seamless transition fortified by his ancestral traditions.  

Role in Cuba:   

Since arriving in Cuba, Abuelita Orúnmila has remained by Dead Eye Polly’s side, serving as his spiritual advisor and confidante. Her expertise in Santería and Vodun has been instrumental in helping him navigate the complex world of the Cuban underworld. Abuelita Orúnmila is not only a master of spiritual practices but also of the ancient art of herbalism. Like the mythological witch Circe, she uses herbs and plants to concoct potent potions and poisons, aiding Dead Eye Polly in his schemes.  

One of her most infamous contributions was during Dead Eye Polly’s bid for power among the Cuban bosses. The cigars smoked by the men at that fateful meeting were rolled by her hands, but they carried more than just tobacco. Each cigar was laced with a toxin derived from the Brugmansia suaveolens, commonly known as the Angel’s Trumpet or “Floripondio.”

This white-flowered plant, native to Venezuela and other areas, is known for its mind-altering properties. In small, non-lethal doses, the toxin causes the mind to become pliable, making the victim highly suggestible. It is commonly used by local prostitutes to drug their clients, leaving them vulnerable to robbery. The effects include memory gaps, disorientation, and a hangover-like state the following day, with the victim often unable to recall the events that transpired.  

Personal Life:    

Abuelita Orúnmila leads a life marked by humility and reverence. Despite her high status, she maintains a low profile, focusing on her spiritual practices and her role within Dead Eye Polly’s inner circle. Her home in Havana, like her life, is a blend of the sacred and the practical, filled with symbols of her dual faith and the tools of her craft.  

Cultural and Spiritual Significance:    

Abuelita Orúnmila’s presence at Dead Eye Polly’s side is a testament to her unique role in bridging cultural and spiritual worlds. She embodies the confluence of Louisiana Vodun and Afro-Cuban Santería, maintaining a balance between these traditions and integrating them into the fabric of Havana’s powerful underworld scene. Her mastery of herbalism and her deep spiritual practices add a layer of authenticity and reverence to the environment she inhabits, making her an indispensable figure in Dead Eye Polly’s rise to power.  

Notes:  

Plant Name:Brugmansia suaveolens (Angel’s Trumpet or “Floripondio”)  

Description: A large, woody shrub with hanging, trumpet-shaped flowers, usually white, that emit a strong, sweet fragrance. The plant contains potent alkaloids that can induce delirium, hallucinations, and extreme suggestibility. In small doses, it is used by some for nefarious purposes, such as by prostitutes in Venezuela to drug and rob their clients. The effects include memory loss, disorientation, and a profound hangover-like state. Although not typically lethal at low doses, its use is highly dangerous and illegal in many places.  

The Castillo de los Tres Reyes del Morro (English: Castle of the Three Kings of Morro), also known as Castillo del Morro (Morro Castle), is a fortress guarding the entrance to the Havana harbor.[b] The design is by the Italian engineer Battista Antonelli (1547–1616). Originally under the control of Spain, the fortress was captured by the British in 1762 and returned to Spain under the Treaty of Paris (1763) a year later.[c][8] The Morro Castle was the primary defense in the Havana harbor until La Cabaña was completed in 1774.][9]

About the author

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals; Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, Tx.