Duppy Conqueror

My father says that when we are born, we come into the world possessing two souls... a good soul and an earthly spirit or shadow. When we die, the good soul leaves the body and ascends into heaven to be judged by the Supreme Being. The earthly spirit, however, remains with the body for several days (nine-night). It is here that the earthly spirit is most vulnerable. If the body is not properly honored and buried, the earthly spirit can escape.

Under the right circumstances, its shadow might take form as a duppy or ghost. Once this happens, the duppy will wander the earth. And that’s not good. Some duppies are confused, but most duppies are malicious spirits. Unseen by the normal person, they rest during the day and come out at night to haunt the living. And if the Obeahman, Shadowcatcher, a sorcerer of black magic, get hold of a duppy, he can use his malignant magic to make the duppy cause great harm or even death.

That’s what my father told me. Strange bedtime tales for a seven-year-old, right? 


How does he know all this? My father, Philip McIntosh, is a local legend in the rural areas of the Caribbean island of Jamaica. A cultural anthropologist by day, when darkness falls, he is often called upon to perform the duties of a Myal practitioner or Myalman, to heal people and cast out bad spirits. The locals refer to him as “fo-yeyed” (four-eyed). No, he doesn’t wear glasses. My father is gifted with second sight. You see, when he came into the world, he was born with a caul over his face... a rare event. 

A child born with a veil is believed by many people to have the special power to see into the spirit world. Such a child not only possesses the ability to see spirits but can also converse with them. I know because I, too, was born gifted. And, yes, I do see spirits. They don’t frighten me though. Maybe it’s because I know what they are, and that I’m protected from them. You could say I’m just like my father, a Duppy Conqueror.

What I’m about to tell you, might sound a little crazy, but it’s true…

It was shortly after midnight when I was awakened by the familiar ring of the telephone. This was back when telephones were heavy and very loud, not tiny cell phones that chirp and buzz. I immediately rolled out of bed, landing on my feet, and raced down the hallway to my father’s den.

Though I didn’t know who the call was from, I was confident I knew what the call was about. So many different thoughts danced in my head. If only I could go with my father. Standing at the doorway to my father’s den, I peeked around the corner, watching as he picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver.

“This is Philip McIntosh. How can I help you?”

There was silence as my father patiently listened to the person on the other line explaining, and I listened to him listen.

“I see,” my father said. “Where are you located?” he asked, then, “Alright. I’ll be over shortly.”


My father hung up the phone and paused for a moment, sighing. He knew I was standing there. I knew he knew. A second later, he spoke.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed sleeping?” his back still turned to me.

I stepped out from the shadows.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t sleep...” I said, scratching my head.

“Did you have the bad dream again?” he asked, as if the phone had never hung.

“No...” I replied with a hint of a smile, “Is it a duppy, Dad?”

My father turned and crouched in front of me.

“Yes, Drew. I’m afraid so. A little girl your age needs my help.”

“I want to help. Can I come with you?” I knew the answer.

“Not tonight.

My eyes were fixated on the chain around my father's neck. My father looked down his shirt and pulled out the chain. At the end of the chain was a rare amulet bearing the face of an African lion. He handed the amulet to me as I grasped it with both hands.

“When will I be able to go with you?”

“In time, Drew.”

“But you said that last time.” My eyes fixed on the amulet.

“I know.”

My father smiled and looked into my eyes.

“Don’t you worry, son. Jah has a plan for you. This is the one thing that I know."

“Really?”

“Yes, I. And when that time comes, 'I n I ' know you will be ready."

“So Jah Seh!” I roared! I tucked the amulet back into his shirt.

“Yes, I. So help me Jah!"

Jah was our word for God, Yahweh. Dad knew that I would always ask to go with him, and he and Mom had been telling me “no” since the beginning of time, it seemed. Especially Mom. But every day, I was a little older, wasn’t I? I knew one day I would be old enough. 


My father stood up and walked back to his desk, an antique mahogany roll top desk with brass lion head drawer pulls. As a toddler, I remembered pulling on the brass pulls with great curiosity. Something about the lion fascinated me. They were eye-level back then, and now I was taller. I loved lions. 



I watched as he opened the top desk drawer and took out his large book, an old copy of the King James Bible. As an observant Rastafarian and as a Myal Man, he relied on his Bible to help him cast out evil duppies. My father knew that by invoking the name of Jah in a loud voice, he could often drive an evil duppy away, releasing it from this Earth. This he told me. 


I quietly followed my father down the hallway to where my mother was waiting for him by the front door.

“Wait, Dad,” I said. “I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait until the morning?” he replied, looking back at me with gentle eyes.

“I guess so.”

Standing at the front door, a cup of herbal bush tea in her hand, Mom asked. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t know, Maria. From what I’ve been told, it sounds like a duppy. Just not sure if it’s something evil that’s been conjured up by an Obeahman, or just a lost, wandering spirit.”

“Let’s hope for the latter, ” she said grimly. She gave me a stern glance. I was not supposed to be out of bed, but she was going to let it slide.

“Don’t worry, Maria. Jah protect I!” He winked quickly with one eye, his thing to do sometimes just with Mom and me.

“Just be careful, Phillip. You don’t want to bring evil back into our home,” she whispered. I could never tell how serious she was. I knew she believed in my father, but I could also tell she did not always believe some of the things he told me. It was confusing.

“Maria, I’ll be fine,” he assured her, smoothing her brow with one big hand.

My mother and I followed my father outside, standing obediently in the glow of the light on the porch, watching him as he went to his his old Land Rover in the darkness.

“Where are you headed?” my mother asked.

“Westmoreland Parish,” he said. “It’s about an hour drive south. I don’t know when I will be back, so don’t wait up for me.”

“We’ll manage without you,” Maria said, and it was like I could hear her rolling her eyes in her voice. “Just be careful!”

My father waved goodbye and got into that truck he called “vintage”. Placing the Bible on the passenger seat beside him, he started the engine. After several attempts, the engine roared to life. I waved goodbye as my father drove away. I always felt proud of him at times like this, knowing he was going to help someone, like a doctor or a superhero from a comic book, even though I longed to go with him and help somehow.


 As often happened, Mom first scolded me for being up in the first place, then we talked a while in her room, and then we lay down, and then she fell asleep. Once she was out for sure, I sneaked out to wait for Dad. This was a tradition I don’t think Mom knew about. At some point, I started waiting up for him, and he would come home, carry me to my bedroom and tuck me in. Then, as I got older, he started telling me about his work. There was nothing more exciting, and I felt very grown-up knowing he trusted me this way. I did not have to wait on the couch; he now came to my room, especially for me. We had an unspoken rule of not discussing it when anyone else was around. It was our special time. 



It was late when he came home. Maybe I had drifted off, but I heard the LandRover door and opened my eyes. Soon, his tall form filled the shadowy bedroom doorway with a darker shadow. 


He padded in quietly and stood over my bed, “Is my son sleeping?” he said in a quiet voice, knowing I was not. 


“No,” I replied, as I always did, “He is too curious.” 


Dad smiled and sat down. “Then I must help him so he can sleep, no?



“I drove far into the hills tonight, to a little house where a good man, a Mr. Earl Sinclair, met me on his porch. I could see worry in his eyes as he thanked me for coming.


“He led me indoors, and I could tell there was a duppy indeed; it was making the air feel warm and stale to me, hoping to push me away.” This was a duppy trick. Dad had told me some of these…bad smells, strange sounds, ways the duppies tried to scare people – and usually succeeded. But Dad was stronger and smarter than most people.



“Mr. Sinclair led me down the hall to a bedroom, where his wife waited outside the door. I could see she was truly scared as Mr. Sinclair introduced us. ‘Don’t you worry, Marcia, I told her. I looked into her eyes, so she would know I meant it, ‘This will all be over soon.’ And son, she did what people sometimes do who have had no hope and then find it; she fell into my arms with a sob. Then she pulled herself together, ‘Jah bless you! You don’t know how hard this is for us to see our Brandy this way’.” 

 I took her shoulders. “There is something important I need to ask of you, though hard it may seem.”

“Anything. Just say the word,” Earl said.


"Whatever goes on inside this room, whatever you hear, do not open this door. Is that understood?” They looked at each other, then spoke as one, telling me ‘Yes.. we understand.’” 


“Then I slowly opened the bedroom door. Across the room from me stood a frightened little girl, still dressed in her blue and white school uniform” 



I interrupted. “How old is she?” I was in school. 



“Old as you.”

 “So…not so little, then.” I concluded. Dad smiled. 



“No, not a baby. I stepped in and closed the door firmly. Brandy was not alone. Standing behind her was a shadowy figure, a duppy in the form of a little girl dressed in white. She had one arm clenched around Brandy’s neck, and her feet did not quite touch the ground. I knew that the grandparents outside could not have seen this duppy; they only knew their granddaughter was suffering strangely. ”

“I spoke to the girl gently, “Hello, Brandy… I see you are not alone.”

“She just looked back at me with wide, frightened eyes. I could tell she was glad that I seemed to know what was going on. I did not yell at her or tell her to get in bed. A good Myalman always has to remember, Drew, to be kind to the victims, no matter how angry he might be with the duppies.
 “ So I said to her, “Don’t worry child,” The duppy seemed to be uneasy with my presence in the room. She began to sway slowly, side to side, keeping me in her sight while her arm remained tightly gripped around Brandy’s neck.

“The bedroom was small in size, smaller than yours, with the bed placed in the center of the room. A large window was above the bed, and I could see a massive cotton tree out there. A desk and dresser rested against the wall on the right side of the room, a vanity and mirror on the left side of the bed, where the duppy continued to hold Brandy in the violent stance. Near the door, a little table held some dolls.

“I grabbed the small table, knocking the dolls aside, and placed it between me and the duppy and Brandy. I then placed my Bible on the table and opened it. At that moment, the duppy shouted.

“’Get out!!’ the duppy spoke with a raspy voice.

“I just want to talk to you,” I said mildly.

“The duppy let out a deafening, shrill shriek and sent the table and Bible flying towards me, missing my head. It crashed behind me, against the door. Outside the room, I could hear the Sinclairs gasp. Someone grasped the door handle.

“No!” I heard Mr. Sinclair warn, “Remember what Philip said. Do not open the door.”

“It’s hard, Earl. I feel so helpless.”

“I know,” Mr. Sinclair said, trying to comfort her nerves. “If anyone can save Brandy, Philip can.” I was proud of them, in that moment. It is so important that people let me do my work.

“Back inside the room, I decided to take another approach.

“We can do this the easy way,” I said, reaching into my shirt pocket and revealing a box of slow-burn matches. I slid the box open to reveal three matches. I had decided to take advantage of one of the duppy’s weaknesses, their inability to count beyond three. Duppies are mesmerized by fire, son. I carefully struck the first match and held it in front of me. Upon seeing the flame, the duppy stuck her head all the way out from behind Brandy’s. I had got her attention. I quickly tossed the first match towards the right side of the room, away from Brandy. It worked, and the duppy immediately gave chase, releasing Brandy and leaping over the bed faster than any human could, catching the burning match before it hit the floor.

“Come, Brandy! Quickly!” I said. It was a scary moment, because some girls would be too afraid to move.

“Brandy was brave and darted towards me, and I immediately shielded the girl behind me, backing up close to the bedroom door. The duppy stood in a defiant stance, not happy that Brandy was no longer with her and was now under my protection. Holding the match in her hand, she seemed cross but content, but then the breeze coming from the open window suddenly blew out the tiny flame. This made the duppy girl even more angry. 
 “I knew it was time to get Brandy safely out of the bedroom, and fast. I quickly lit the second match and held it toward the face of the duppy. The duppy’s swollen eyes lit up upon seeing the lit match. I leaned forward toward the spirit, and looked back at Brandy over my shoulder, to let her know she was still safe and it was almost over. I then looked back at the duppy and tossed the second match to the left side of the room, near the mirror. The duppy took bait and leaped back over the bed, and caught the second match.



“I quickly reached back and opened the bedroom door, pushing broken bits of chair and dolls out of the way, and gently shoved Brandy outside and into the waiting arms of her grandparents. A sense of relief filled the air in the hallway. I couldn’t even look, as I had to keep my focus on the duppy, and I quickly closed the bedroom door again. My work was not done. I now had to deal with getting the duppy out of the bedroom. Now the duppy girl stood in a resistant stance, feet planted firmly, holding the two matches, one still burning and the other smoking in each clenched fist, I pulled out the last match.

“I struck it against the side of the matchbox, but it failed to light up on the first attempt. I tried it again to no avail. It’s important to stay calm and have faith in these moments. On the third strike, the match slowly caught a spark and came to life. I moved to the far right side of the bed, standing directly across from the duppy girl. I slowly moved closer to the window, keeping my eye on the duppy, who was moving with me in sync, greedily focused on the little flame in my fingers. 


“Holding the match directly in front of me, I then pretended to throw the third match out the window. The duppy fell for it and leaped out the window after the match. I could feel the intense heat coming from her as she brushed up against me on her way out. As you know, Drew, the heat of a duppy, any close contact, can cause one to become violently ill and close to death if not dead. I am protected, praise Jah! 


“I quickly jumped onto the little bed and slammed the window shut, locking the latch to ensure the duppy girl could never return from whence she came the first time. I then climbed down from the bed and opened my hand, revealing the third match.

“It works everytime, mon!” Dad told me in the quiet of my safe bedroom, wearing a slight grin on his face. I smiled back.

“I then picked up my Bible from where it had fallen when the table was smashed, and tucked it under my arm. Looking back at the empty bedroom, I opened the bedroom door to join everyone in the hallway.

“It’s over now,” I assured the family.

“Thank you, Philip,” Mrs. Sinclair said, tears on her cheeks.

“Brandy ran to me and embraced me, and I crouched down to give the brave girl a hug.

“You’re safe now,” I told her. “The duppy is gone.”

“Why did the duppy choose Brandy?” Mr. Sinclair asked.

“I don’t think she purposely chose Brandy. You see… that duppy, she doesn't know she's dead. She’s not able to rest, and just wanted someone to play with.”

“Mrs. Sinclair gave me a hug, “Thank you, so much. You are indeed what my husband hoped, the Duppy Conqueror.”

“I must go now,” I told her. “You take care of yourself and remember, keep your windows closed at night to keep out unwanted visitors.”

“They assured me they would.

“As I exited the house and headed to the truck, Mr. Sinclair followed right behind me.

“Thank you for saving our grandchild. How can we repay you?”

“There's no need, bredren,” I assured him. “Just remember to keep her bedroom window closed at night. However, there is one more thing I need to do…” I warned Mr. Sinclair.

“I walked around to the back of the truck and opened the doors, retrieving the axe, which caught Mr. Sinclair’s attention at once.

“What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

“Come with me, mon,” I replied, “I will show you.”

“Mr. Sinclair followed me around to the side of the house where Brandy’s bedroom window was located. There was the cotton tree I had seen, and hiding in the branches was the duppy girl, watching me. I dragged the axe on the ground to warn the duppy that the inevitable was about to happen. As I approached the tree, I noticed what I could not see from inside, but had suspected: the roots of the tree extended well beyond the tree trunk toward the house.

“Duppies make their home in roots and branches of the silk cotton tree,” I told him, “See these roots? These roots made it possible for the duppy to enter your home through the window.” 
I continued, “This house should not have been built next to this tree, it was just asking for trouble. But not everyone knows the ways of the duppy.”

“I began to chop at the roots that stretched toward the side of the house. As I chopped away, I recited one of the old prayers, one that is always effective in driving away duppies forever:

“Jah, the name high over all, 
In hell, on earth, or utter sky, 
Angels and men before him fall, 
Let devil fear and fly.

“Sure enough, as soon as the words were past my lips, the duppy girl let out a haunting scream, turned into smoke, vanishing into the night, finally released from this world.

“Remember,” I told the man, who could see nothing of the duppy, as I raised the axe again, “No roots…no duppies.” Dad winked at me, confident, brave, and kind.

And so ended my bedtime story…that was not a story. Dad kissed my forehead and tucked my sheet around me, and slipped quietly from the room.