Back in your youth when you are lost and trying to find identity either internally or externally, different people find different things and those things change over time, either in their nature or intensity... some people find sport, god, some type of music... I don’t know I guess it's some sort of posture that separates you from some and unites you with others.
At the time, I found the water (swimming, rowing, sailing - not yet surfing) and Jamaican music...
Which per se had an evolution... from Peter Tosh, Bob Marley and the Wailers, to Augustus Pablo to Dub... and the evolution of Dub... but basically those images of a music made by a composite of superseding rhythms involved in a laid back philosophy and a lot of dope, coolie weed, ganja, pot, maglione or what ever you choose to call marihuana... but perhaps the whole package of troubled/beautiful island in the Caribbean with that soundtrack associated to it that managed to develop it own cultural identity and exported revolutionary coolness in a way that perhaps only Brazil has done...
And that liking of its music and its pot association has lasted until my present.
So being offered a mission in Jamaica warmed my soul and expanded my smile... even if I would have loved to be there 25 years earlier...
I could write about the day to day shit... but going to focus on a few moments of the trip because those are the ones that I will remember the most.
Slaving and surf
One thing that struck me from the 1st day was the bodies and athleticism of most people... their bodies are sculptural...
As soon as I arrived I went for a small trip down to the south-east... among rural poor towns and every 3rd person looked like an olympic athlete or a model....
I stayed in a small hotel looking out to the open ocean... the kid of the owner told me that he goes surfing down at the beach and had an old long board if I wanted... the conditions weren’t so good... but then I hadn't been on a board for a long time...
The track down to the beatiful beach followed at some stage an old (very old) fort type place... once in the water I got a better perspective on its size and fortifications.... quite a scary looking place... the kid told me that it used to be a slave distribution warehouse... they used to arrive there and from there were distributed over the island... so I just floated there... looking at it... not even able to imagine the fucking horror and suffering that those today tree tacked walls have witnessed... it was really chilling... and a sensation I cannot remove from me...
Then the Darwinist coin fell... only the fittest of all could have survived the trip under those conditions.... and then life would have been as bad in the sugar plantations... so perhaps the strongest (and most beautiful?) had survived and they are the base of today’s population... it is just terrible to think like that... but I just cannot stop wondering if there is a awful truth in that... they are truly beautiful and cool people.
Augustus Pablo Rockers International
Not gonna go a lot into details on the guy, see wikipedia for that, but he and his brother Garth, kept a mythical record shack store going on Orange Street in Kingston... I went there... I was overwhelmed by stack after stack of small 9 and 12 inch vinyl... I just stared at them... knowing that it would take me days of indecision and a lot of weed to buy even one... so I did not buy anything and just sat there talking to an old Rasta about fishing while listening to unknown music.
Even fisheries inspectors are cool in Jamaica
Kingston middle class are initially “kind of embarrassed” about the reggae/ganja subculture... there is more to Jamaica then just that... as well as that, they are cynical about the Jamaica that the Americans get to know in the all inclusive resorts of the north coast (Montego Bay and places like that), but they were kind of puzzled by my knowledge of Jamaican dub labels and producers as well as my collection of music from Studio One...
So one night after they had a few beers I found my self sitting in between some old inspectors and laughing my head off, while these guys tried in disbelieve to enlighten a guy from Belgium who insisted in being explained what the steps are to dance reggae! I learned how to dance samba, so there must be steps for reggae...
And the inspectors were like.... no man (in the coolest accent)... there are no steps... you just follow the groove... u knaw... rent a tile in da floor... close your eyes... and just groove...
Of course... he did not get it... but these guys where so funny and telling me: ya man... explain him... dat u knaw... finally they told him off and we stay discussing the fisherman song of “the Congos” and why they respect (respect is “BIG word” in Jamaica) the NZ cricket players.
Rae Town in Kingston
It is obvious that Kingston has seen better days... when you see that the hospital has barbed wired fences and looks more like a prison... you know things ain’t cool... the ghettos are dangerous places to be no doubt...
But there is one day a week when there are no incidents... at least on a few blocks...
Every night there is a free street party in some neighbourhood in Kingston... each has its particular scene... and the local gang bosses make sure that nothing happens on their own or each other parties... and one thing that you need to do in Kingston is to go to a sound system, to any of the classic street parties... is really safe and hassle free.
How it works... A few blocks of a street are closed off. A DJ sets up a bank or two -- or three -- of giant loudspeakers. And the tunes roll. These days, sound system DJs mostly spin dancehall, heavy stripped-down beats with a rapper or a toaster chanting over the top.
But each Sunday in the neighborhood of Rae Town, you can go back in time.
Rae Town has been putting on this sound system for more than twenty years... it doesn't really get started until about one in the morning, the crowd grows slowly up to perhaps 1000 people.
Towers of speakers line the back of the sidewalk at key points, and people stand in front of the speakers but with their backs to them. This means there are two thick rows of people facing each other across the street, being blasted in the face and back by speakers playing music. Which in this case means everything from funk, to rocksteady and dub.
Teenagers to people in the 70s just dances or shuffle their feet on both sides of the street like heaving crowds at a parade.
There are no rules. People dress up or they dress down. Everyone is smoking and the rastas go around with the bags for sale and long sticks of buds at the equivalent of 1€.
Along the road is always someone with a cooler of Red Stripe beer, water and soft drinks.
Everyone is just having fun...
After my first half joint I’m in sensory overload.
Clothing styles are wide-ranging but definitely have not much upper limit on the flashy side, and some enormous dreadlock crowns.
A nice thing about the scene is the number of older people dancing –something I rarely see. I'm particularly taken with the older men with dreadlocks piled high and beards, standing and swinging, eyes shut, bending their knees and rocking out to the beat in a way I would love to do as good as he does.
The place is not flashy at all... open sewers, cables overhead and the homes are either covered with corrugated zinc sheeting, or surrounded by it.... but Rae Town is working class... not a slum.
And you do feel the community's solidarity... this is their party... and they are (and should be) dam proud of it.
I was by far the only white guy there... (a couple of girls with some semi locals cruised around)... and at any time anyone hassled me... the guys around me offered me fire for my joints... and I was dancing in my own heaven... a guy from St Lucia came and told me that he liked my dancing for a big white guy... with I appreciated and we had a beer and a chat...
Then the nicest thing happen... a local neighbour on his 50’s came and touched my arm and said something like... man... we turn this off in 20 minutes... so if you wanna get a taxi back home... this would be a good time...
I thank him... and went back to my uptown hotel with the biggest smile... feeling again blessed by life... feeling that I have been in one of the coolest events I would ever experience (under the way my brain works) and seen how far into good can we go... it was just music and people.... you don’t need more than that sometimes...
Some bad shit happens in Jamaica (like in the rest of the world), but some awesome stuff too... and Rae Town saved my youth fantasies and lighted my present.
Maximum Respect to the place
