Nyahtone: Memoirs of A Smuggler

NYAHTONE depicts the "rich & textured" human experience of a person struggling to support his family in a "3rd World" country and his escape from poverty only to be left literally holding the bag while so many are enjoying the medicinal, recreational and profitable fruits of the "American" marijuana industry.
Instead of thinking of Nyahtone as just being a single player in this unfolding adventure we must think of him as an iconic "collective identity" representing all smugglers that made it possible for us to fully enjoy this monumental time in history.
Nyahtone's story is one of Caribbean adventure and history as well, filled with crazy "moves", sharks, seduction, sacrifice and suffering. It is compelling from the moment you meet him until the very end. He is a "gentleman" smuggler with a brave heart and charming code of honor.
Nyahtone's identity must remain a mystery at this time due to the archaic and oppressive "Rockefeller" laws that are still in effect regardless of the evolving Marijuana industry's "rollout" here in America, "Land of the Free & Home of The Brave!", but not so free for all.
This is his story and the story of thousands still held prisoner as the United States government reapers the enormous rewards of this new and highly taxable industry as the founding fathers banned from social benefits as they age. It's time to honor the sacrifices of NYAHTONE!
It's time to scream for clemency!

"Bimini was the place where all the drugs, "white stuff" and grass came from Colombia. In those days there was the Cali Cartel controlled by the famous Escobar and his posse..."

"On that same day, looking out, I saw in an extremely far distance something in the water that was getting bigger as it got closer to us. The ocean was very rough, but I figured out that it was a boat. I told Vin to quickly take down the flag we were flying which was Bahamian and put up our Jamaican flag. I also told Jimmy to go down in the bunk area where the cargo was and lock the door so no one could see down there. When the boat got close enough, I saw that it was a Cuban gunboat, their version of a "Coast Guard" boat..."
"I almost shit my pants, but it was only us three who were visible on deck. The gun boat started to circle us and then stopped; they were about 50-70ft from us with all kinds of guns, machine-guns pointing at us! They didn't say a word to us, so I started shouting that we ran out of gas and the reason we drifted so close was because there was no wind. They didn't say a word, so I repeated our explanation and asked them for gasoline. This time the captain answered saying they had no gas as their boat only used diesel. One of the Cuban was about to throw us a rope when I shouted to them that I had a "job" to take our boat to the Bahamas, at this point I told Arthur and Vin to stand at attention and to do exactly as I was doing..."

"The Cubans didn't say a word just kept watching us."

"I stood at attention and held up my right hand; fist closed and said, "Viva Castro! Viva Cuba!". "Viva Michael Manley! Viva Jamaica!", Vin and Arthur followed, and we did this six times."