Hitting the road and Jack
Published:Tuesday | May 18, 2010 | 12:00 AM
By the side of a road that leads from Kingston to St Thomas there's a monument dedicated to Jack Mansong, also known as Three Finger Jack. If you don't know who that is, don't feel too bad, you're not alone. On a recent stop at the monument and surrounding areas, I came across lots of people, but little information.
It's hard to miss the monument dedicated to Three Finger Jack as you zip along the somewhat lonely stretch of road near enough to Bull Bay, St Thomas. There would be, however, little reason to stop, as other than the sign, there's nothing much around, save for bush and the occasional fast-moving mongoose. I, however, gave in to curiosity and pulled over at the spot last week to get a closer look.
In short, according to the inscription, Jack Mansong made the hills behind the marker his home as he waged a mostly single-handed war on English colonisers between 1780-1781. Nobody knows if he was brought to Jamaica from Africa or if he was born here, but he's believed to have been skilled with a machete and musket and gave the English soldiers hell during altercations. He was eventually ambushed and killed near the spot the monument now occupies.
The stranger
It was while standing at the side of the road reading the information that I heard a sneeze behind me. I turned to see an older fellow wearing a hat, sitting on a bicycle. He said hello as soon as I spotted him.
"Ah see yuh reading about old Jack, man!" he said, seeming quite happy about it. "Many people pass here, but nobody much really stop to find out what is what," he said. I asked him his name. "I am Smith, Everton Smith. I live down the road out there," he said, pointing in the direction of Kingston. I asked him what he knew about Three Finger Jack. He smiled broadly.
"I don't grow around here, yuh know. I am from Manchester and I know about Jack from I was a young bwoy inna short pants," said Everton. He adjusted his hat and continued.
"Three Finger Jack was a slave weh never tek nuh chat from no planter. Him decide seh him is a man and him not into dis slavery business, so him start fight like Chuck Norris and run weh inna di hills fi live. Any bwoy test, Jack just deal wid dem case, crucial. Dem eventually set trap fi him and kill him, but mi hear seh Jack tek out bout five ah dem same time." Everton smiled broadly as he related the story. I asked him if he knew how the name Three Finger Jack came about.
"Well, to be honest, mi not sure. My grandparents dem tell mi dat is while fighting one day him lose two of him finger dem and so him get him name, but I don't see nothing on di sign about it, so mi nuh know how true it is," he said.
Younger idiot dem
I mentioned to Everton how happy he seemed to be to recall the legend of Three Finger Jack and he nodded. "Yes, man. These are di stories people must know. Di younger idiot dem nuh know noting bout Jack. Di only Jack dem know ah cyar jack," he said, frowning.
After thanking Everton for his time, I decided to put his theory to the test. I drove about a mile away to a small group of wooden shops not far from the road. There were coal stoves, used tyres and crabs on sale and the vendors were lazing about looking bored. I pulled up to two men sitting in the shade of a zinc fence. "Coal stove here!" one of the men shouted, while the other, who was wearing sunglasses, remained motionless. I introduced myself to the pair and told them I was trying to get some information on Three Finger Jack. "Who dat?" said the man in sunglasses. I mentioned the monument down the road.
"Mi nuh know bout dat, bredrin. Mi never read di sign yet," the bespectacled man said, dismissively.
"You very dark," said the other man, looking at the glasses-wearer scornfully. "Yuh nuh know Three Finger Jack? Di man weh deal wid di lottery something dem! Ah weh yuh deh?" he said.
The otherwise laid-back man in glasses jumped up and removed the shades from his face.
"Man yuh ah idiot or fool? Dat ah Three Han Chan!" he shouted before bursting into laughter and pointing at his now red-in-the-face friend. That pretty much ended both men's interest in the topic so I thanked them and drove off.
On the way back to Kingston, I passed the monument again, this time a bit more knowledgeable but a lot more curious to find out more about the legendary Three Finger Jack and his exploits.