The Coolie Duppy in the Ackee Tree

“I am a Coolie Duppy.”

The deep male voice echoed across the clearing.

Dozens of people standing beneath a large ackee tree in Portmore froze in fear.

The voice wasn’t coming from a man.

It was coming from a young woman sitting high among the branches.

Several people immediately dropped to their knees.

Others began praying louder.

Some simply stared in disbelief.

The woman glared down at the crowd from her perch near the top of the tree.

And according to those who were there, the voice coming from her mouth no longer sounded human.

The strange incident happened one Friday evening along Old Braeton Road in Portmore, Jamaica.

Earlier that day, Lickina had been working at a hair salon where she had recently started a new job. A close friend had spent most of the day there keeping her company between customers. The two talked, laughed, and passed the hours together while the salon remained busy.

As evening approached, the friend decided to walk to a nearby bar for a Guinness before heading home.

It was shortly after six o’clock.

The sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings, and darkness was slowly settling across the community.

The bar felt unusually quiet.

Only the bartender stood behind the counter.

She ordered her drink and sat down.

Outside, everything seemed normal.

Then the screaming started.

At first, it sounded like an argument somewhere down the road.

A few seconds later, people began running past the bar.

Then more followed.

Men.

Women.

Children.

Everyone appeared to be heading in the same direction.

Some looked frightened.

Others looked excited.

Curious, the woman turned toward the bartender.

“What going on out there?”

The bartender looked through the doorway.

“I don’t know.”

Then she grabbed a towel from the counter.

“Come. Let’s go look.”

The two women stepped outside and followed the crowd.

As they moved down a narrow dirt lane, more people joined from nearby homes and shops.

The further they walked, the louder the commotion became.

Then they reached an open clearing.

And saw the tree.

A large ackee tree stood in the center of the area.

Beneath it was a crowd of people staring upward.

Near the top sat a young light-skinned woman wearing what appeared to be a white nightgown.

Her bare feet hung from a thick branch.

Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders.

She looked down at the crowd with an expression that made many people uncomfortable.

No one seemed to know how she had gotten up there.

And no one could convince her to come down.

Several women stood beneath the tree with white cloths tied around their heads.

Some held Bibles.

Others clutched handkerchiefs.

One elderly woman cried openly while praying.

“Come down, child!”

someone shouted.

“We trying to help you.”

The young woman shook her head.

“You can’t make me leave.”

At first, her voice sounded frightened.

Almost desperate.

The crowd continued praying.

Some quoted scripture.

Others sang hymns.

A few men discussed finding a ladder.

But every time someone suggested climbing the tree, the woman became agitated.

“Don’t come near me!”

she screamed.

The tension continued to build.

Minute after minute passed.

The prayers grew louder.

The crowd grew larger.

Then something changed.

The woman suddenly became still.

Her expression hardened.

The fear disappeared from her face.

A strange silence settled over the gathering.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then she laughed.

The sound instantly sent chills through the crowd.

It was deep.

Rough.

Masculine.

Several people gasped.

One woman burst into tears.

Another backed away from the tree.

The laughter continued.

Then the voice spoke.

“I am a Coolie Duppy.”

The reaction was immediate.

Some people screamed.

Others fell to their knees.

Several began praying at the top of their lungs.

Throughout Jamaica, stories of duppies have existed for generations. While beliefs differ from person to person, many communities have long shared stories about spirits, hauntings, and unexplained encounters. Among these stories, the Coolie Duppy is often described as one of the most feared entities in Caribbean folklore.

The voice laughed again.

“This body belongs to me now.”

People cried out.

Some prayed even louder.

The voice pointed toward the crowd.

“You can pray all night.”

It laughed again.

“You can call every pastor in Jamaica.”

The branch beneath the woman creaked as she shifted her weight.

“But I am not leaving.”

Chaos erupted beneath the tree.

People shouted scripture.

Others called for church elders.

Some begged the woman to come down.

Others simply stood frozen in fear.

For nearly an hour, the scene continued.

No one could explain what was happening.

No one could persuade the woman to leave the tree.

Eventually, the visitor had seen enough.

The entire situation felt overwhelming.

She turned and began walking back toward the bar.

The bartender followed.

For a while, neither woman spoke.

The sounds of praying still echoed in the distance.

Finally, the bartender broke the silence.

“You know who that girl is?”

The visitor shook her head.

The bartender lowered her voice.

“She’s one of the owner’s side women.”

The visitor stopped walking.

“What?”

The bartender nodded.

“The owner of the bar.”

She pointed behind them.

“That girl and him have a thing.”

The revelation caught the visitor completely off guard.

But the bartender wasn’t finished.

According to rumors throughout the community, the owner’s wife had discovered his affairs more than once.

And whenever she learned about another woman, strange things supposedly started happening.

Some people claimed she knew how to work powerful spiritual practices.

Others insisted she could send a Coolie Duppy after any woman who became involved with her husband.

The visitor wasn’t sure what to believe.

The story sounded impossible.

Then the bartender added one final detail.

“I’m one of his girlfriends too.”

The visitor stared at her.

The bartender shrugged.

“He warned me about her.”

For several seconds, neither woman spoke.

The bizarre scene beneath the ackee tree was already difficult enough to process.

Now it came wrapped in jealousy, infidelity, gossip, fear, and stories of spiritual revenge.

Back at the bar, the visitor finished her Guinness in silence.

She paid the bill.

Said goodbye.

And left.

She never returned.

Years later, she still doesn’t know what happened beneath that ackee tree.

She doesn’t know whether she witnessed possession, a mental health crisis, mass hysteria, or something else entirely.

What she does know is that dozens of people stood beneath that tree praying while a young woman’s voice transformed into something they swore did not belong to her.

And long after the crowd went home…

Long after the prayers stopped…

And long after the woman finally came down from the tree…

The story continued to spread across Portmore.

Because in Jamaica, some stories refuse to die.

And the story of the Coolie Duppy in the Ackee Tree is one of them.