'Japsey Thursday' patrons protest midnight lockdown

HORACE HINES, Obserever staff reporter hinesh@jamaicaobserver.com Saturday, April 19, 2008

A policeman makes a point to residents along Barnett Lane during yesterday morning's demonstration against the turning off of the sound system at midnight at the popular 'Japsey Thursday' street dance in Montego Bay.

MONTEGO BAY, St James - A strong police/military presence was maintained along sections of Barnett Street and Barnett Lane up to late yesterday evening following a massive demonstration by patrons attending the popular 'Japsey Thursday' dance which was shut down at midnight by cops.

Thursday night's police action, in accordance with the Night Noise Abatement Act, took some patrons, who normally attend the popular dance after midnight, by surprise. The sound was locked off by the cops before the dance got into full swing, much to the ire of the patrons.

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THE KIDS AREN’T ALRIGHT – Part 1

"Disenchantment, whether it is a minor disappointment or a major shock, is the signal that things are moving into transition in our lives."
William Throsby Bridges

"The fate of our times is characterized by rationalization and intellectualization and, above all, by the disenchantment of the world."
Max Weber

"People grow old only by deserting their ideals, Macarthur had written. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope as old as your despair. In the central place of every heart there is a recording chamber. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, so long are you young. When your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and then only, are you grown old. And then, indeed as the ballad says, you just fade away."
Douglas MacArthur

"Youth can be characterized as a transition from childhood to adulthood – a developmental journey during which one gains independence and begins to participate fully in society. This period is fraught with enormous challenges for young people themselves and for the rest of society. It is imperative that societies invest in their youth, as they are especially vulnerable to the increasingly complex problems facing the world today."
United Nations World Youth Report 2003

 

Good Afternoon, brothers and sisters young and old one and all, this afternoon I want to bear with me another evening as I tackle the issue of the Generation Gap and attack if only intellectually, those who would too quickly, too easily, too readily the plight of the youth, the plight of the young as simply owing to our changes in attitude and belief to theirs. This week I rise to the defence of the young, youthful and inarticulate who cannot, who won't have the chance to or cannot defend themselves and communicate to the minds and brains of yesteryear. Before I continue I would want to share with you a song by The Offspring, a song about the disenchanted American youth called "The Kid's Aren't Alright" that I think many Jamaican maybe able to relate to. " When we were young the future was so bright/The old neighborhood was so alive/And every kid on the whole damn street/Was gonna make it big in every beat/Now the neighborhood's cracked and torn/The kids are grown up but their lives are worn/How can one little street/Swallow so many lives. Chances thrown/Nothing's free/Longing for/Used to be/Still it's hard/Hard to see/Fragile lives/shattered dreams. Jenny had a chance, well she really did/Instead she dropped out and had a couple of kids/Mark still lives at home cause he's got no job/He just plays guitar and smokes a lot of pot/Jay committed suicide/Brandon OD'd and died/What the hell is going on?/The cruellest dream – reality/Chances thrown/Nothing's free/Longing for/what used to be/Still it's hard/Hard to see/Fragile lives/Shattered dreams.

Nowadays it would seem older folks and the younger individuals constantly bicker and complain of generation gap ("Missa So & So nuh see seh a nuh when dem a did yute dis" vs. "Dis gingeration of vipers, yuh nuh see how Eula big bwoy deh gallang") and of breaking down of the communication between these two. But who is to blame, is it Ole Ms. Matty's fault or is it mine? I think both go wrong every now and then.

  
 

The elders, seniors, old wizen sages are more critical of the younger generation with a "HUGE-MUNGOUS" catalogue of complaints against the youth (the low pants, the earring, the hair style, the tattoo) and the young for the most part tend to pay no attention (I-Pods and Bluetooth blasting in their ears) to the grumbling, mumbling and occasional loud protestations of the older generation(When Mama seh "Den EH! Weh yuh feel seh yuh a go dress so, not as long as you live unda my roof, poopa Jezaas tek di case and gimmi di pilla, dah lilly piss'n tale gyal yah"). But now and then they do protest. They resent the petting attitude of the elders, who seem to assume the young are too inept to do anything, or know their way in the world.

 
 

Generations clash on a variety of topics some are as follows: 

• Of ideas on general conduct comprising dress, food habits etc.
  
• Morality, marriage & career
  
• Of tastes on art, music, literature, and in short total outlook.
  
• Family unit breaking up and gradually losing the importance it once had. The central authority of the paternal figure becoming redundant.
  
• Imposition of the self-righteous attitude of the older generation on the young.
  
• Biological evolutionary difference
  

 It is generally observed that the old behave like a frog in the well. They are fully convinced that the ideas they have had throughout their lives are the ultimate and ideal. They ignore certain vital factors that are no longer valid in the case of the modernity. There always has been generation gap since the dawn of civilization. The young have always deviated from the older standards and it was well that they did or there wouldn't have been any progress today.

 

Did you know the largest-ever generation of young people is now entering the transition from childhood to adulthood? According to UN statistics, up to 48 percent of the world population is under the age of 24 and 86 percent of 10-to-24-year-olds live in less developed countries. In many parts of the world, young people are still suffering from hunger, lack of access to education, health services and job opportunities, and are exposed to insecurity and violence and to a large extent, the quality of life for the next generation and society will depend on how today's young people manage their transition to economic independence in difficult environments, such as countries hit by economic recession, or war or famine, or in areas plagued by HIV/AIDS and the oncoming onslaught of global warming. The roles young people are forced to assume in countries affected by war or poverty greatly affects the transitional phase to adulthood, which takes place at an earlier stage than their First World counterparts.

 

Are you aware the lack of financially viable opportunities in less developed countries makes young people more dependent on their parents? This places them in a situation where they are no longer children, but where they are also deprived of the independence they seek. Without the opportunity to become productive, young people find themselves in a permanent limbo, waiting for a chance to gain economic independence and psychological maturity. Are you aware that when lacking opportunities and means of expression, young people become susceptible to violence, a display of their wish to become more powerful, and have access to the material goods they crave? I'm sure you've all seen many boys hang out in bands on corners and organise themselves in armed clandestine networks, making a living out of illegal trading and as road bandits.

 
 

Yannick Nesta Pessoa

http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

 

PS. Don't touch that dial and stay tuned till next week (yeah right!)

THE PERISH COUNCIL: Give us vision lest we perish

"Them have sight, but lacking vision..."
Junior X a.k.a. "Tash Kent"


"Visionless fools, DUNCE..."
Tickle Puss

"Give us vision lest we perish,
Knowledge send us Heavenly Father,
Grant true wisdom from above,"
Jamaica National Anthem

I've been thinking a lot lately about humanity as a whole, of the city as a whole and communities, and critically the role of the individual in the giant machine, how do you, we, I, Us as little cogs and screws and motor function in the big machine of mankind we call society. I've also wondered about the great men of ages gone by, and the ones that are going by right now as we speak. Is this the world they imagined, is this the world Columbus envisioned on his voyage, is this the India Ghandi imagined, the Africa Selassie dreamed of, the Jamaica Marcus wanted, the Montego Bay Sam Sharpe and September fought for? I highly doubt it. But they wanted something, they envisioned something, something that propelled us here, that brought us here to this moment, at an age and stage where the new prophets, Gods and great men are to be established... and I find the people visionless, especially those elected or so they claim to lead, yes... I am referring to the Leprechauns and little green men that have taken the helm of Government locally and centrally. At an age where new things ought to be birthed from the seeds sown long ago I find, the people unimaginative, repetitive, pitiful, and visionless, at a time when Montego Bay seems to have stalled in fundamental areas of development, I find the Perish Council, fumbling to find an idea, unique singularity of vision to take to the future, the idea of what we are to become or imagine we can or may become. We have stagnated in stale plastic airport signs of welcome to a long passed friendly city. That illusion has long passed, that isn't what we are... so I ask everyone now... you at the Perish Council, you at the JTB, you at the Chamber of Commerce, you at TPDco, you at Flankers, and you out by Freezone and you out on the corner, you in Paradise, you out by Ironshore, you up by Salem, you round by Lane deh so, what is to become of us, what are we to become, what will we move towards, not just as individuals but as communities and a city.... What is your vision?

I honestly believe the Perish Council has lost its sense of direction and worse sense of sight. They are lacking vision and so the Council will inevitably lead us to Perish. For I fail to see or have failed to notice where they have considered Montego Bay's place in the holistic sense of the word, our place, as city amongst 3 in the island, being second chronologically doesn't equate to second in viability, finance or "live-ability". I fail to see where they have considered our place internationally beyond being a tourist facility, we have no museums, no grand civic projects, no grand civic symbols, no monuments to any significant achievement, I see no crucial plan to address the layout planning and charted and coursed development of this city, all I see is ad hoc, wild, rampant untamed concrete sprawl. I have failed to hear the Council address the impending threat of closing Dead End Beach (by some greedy self interest, who lacks the vision to see how the beach impacts the city) a significant local icon, a free beach that in essence symbolizes there tourist advertisements, a place where people had the freedom to venture, to vent, to escape the brutality of everyday life and so it is and so it goes, that those who are elected to serve the people serve their own interests and allow those that have their own interest at heart to do as they please in the interest of personal wealth accumulation. And so maybe Dead End Beach will be a story I tell my children about eh.

Many times I wonder if the Councillors who are allowing us to Perish ever said the National Anthem with any meaning, any heart felt honesty that maybe just maybe once, the would feel like sticking by it, acting in the interest of the people, in the interest of the city, in the interest of the nation. I'm sure they even recited that song "I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,/ Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love... And there's another country, I've heard of long ago,/ Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know; /We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;" Imagine I took these words seriously as a child and only to discover that those that taught me them, obviously didn't. How could they... if they did we wouldn't be caught at this crossroad, without a real plan of action, without a vision of the way things ought to be, or where we ought to be going.

To show you that those who lead have been caught flat footed, without vision. We live in a city where the creeks and gullies flood ever so often, an yet into the onset of global warming, more severe weather, rising sea levels, no one has come forward to address the future in light of these things. Nope we the people are going to wait until the hurricane of all hurricanes comes in August and we have monumental disasters and loss of life before these things cross our worried minds. And what of the coastline, with every hurricane the amount of sand that gets dumped on to the hipstrip is alarming, a sure sign the tide is rising, so in the words of Bob Dylan who sang "The times they are-a-changing" , "Come gather 'round people/ Wherever you roam/ And admit that the waters/ Around you have grown/ And accept it that soon/ You'll be drenched to the bone./ If your time to you/ Is worth savin'/ Then you better start swimmin'/ Or you'll sink like a stone/ For the times they are a-changin'./ --Come writers and critics/ Who prophesize with your pen/ And keep your eyes wide/ The chance won't come again/ And don't speak too soon/ For the wheel's still in spin/ And there's no tellin' who/ That it's namin'./ For the loser now/ Will be later to win/ For the times they are a-changin'./--Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call/ Don't stand in the doorway/ Don't block up the hall/ For he that gets hurt/ Will be he who has stalled/ There's a battle outside/ And it is ragin'./ It'll soon shake your windows/ And rattle your walls/ For the times they are a-changin'./--Come mothers and fathers/ Throughout the land/ And don't criticize/ What you can't understand/ Your sons and your daughters/ Are beyond your command/ Your old road is/ Rapidly agin'./ Please get out of the new one/ If you can't lend your hand/ For the times they are a-changin'./--The line it is drawn/ The curse it is cast/ The slow one now/ Will later be fast/ As the present now/ Will later be past/ The order is/ Rapidly fadin'./ And the first one now/ Will later be last/ For the times they are a-changin'."

Till Next Week!

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

Talking Japanese- Part Few

 

Japanese The Man

And as we proceed from last week... ah! Where were we? Oh yeah aaaahm... the quasi-interview. So the place is Mobay Proper, 3 pm, your average day, the place isn't very lively, just a few kiddies doing some after school bit, workers milling and mulling about. Then it hits me, I wonder what he looks like seeing we've never met. I instantly deduce that he won't be Japanese or even really look the part or even be a Black Chiney, because often enough thats just how things work in Jamaica and Mobay especially. I've met men with names like 'tallis' and he was short, 'biggas' who are small, I know a "gunman" who only ever had a board green gun, so as it seems Jamaicans have a sense of irony and paradoxical if not oxymoronic way of labelling and tagging people. So I just guessed on him not being really anything near Japanese in appearance. As soon as I finished that thought he pulls up and my theory is proven right. Our star and feature character, in fine Jamaican style, is not really anything near Japanese for real. The man who comes to sit and talk is undoubtedly Japanese, but just not a Japanese-Japanese if you get what I mean. This Japanese, the Jamaican Japanese however, is evidently a Samurai, or at the very least a warrior, as it is impossible to neglect to notice the scars this man bares, and on seeing them I remember a No Fear, T-shirt that I have or had, which says, "Scars are tattoos for the brave."

On starting the quasi-interview, I promptly announce, "Ahhhhhm, I don't really have any questions per se, because, I don't usually do interviews and I don't know how to right a Q & A article, I do have some broad vague ones though, but really I just want to get a jist of things..." To which he responds "Ok, you just want to get the essence... Ok" and so, with that we took a little walk down history lane. In uncovering Japanese's history, I uncover more of Montego Bay's history, he is linked like another historical figure, September, you do remember September, right? Well if you don't he was the slave from Salt Spring I did a little feature on last November I think. Anyway I digress, he too, like September, is linked to Salt Spring as much as he is linked to Barnett Lane. Seems Salt Spring is more of a revolutionary focal point for this city. As he recants tales of his adventures in the second city, the story is littered with all the 'it' spots you hear the elders refer to in their own old fables of Yesteryear, he harks back to an age when Tate Street was still a suburban-esque type of set up. The tales also incorporate legendary characters in the city too, some gone long ago, some not too long ago... men like Rucko, men like Goosie and others.

One of the few questions I did ask him was, how did he see himself? Seeing that sometimes with legends, the myth or the tale sometimes isn't the reality. Most of you will have heard of him as one sometimes might have heard of maybe Santa Claus, Sam Sharpe, Jesus or the Black heart man, sometimes we can't seem to find out who these characters really are. From the horse's mouth, Japanese is a leader, a role he has always found himself in he says. From Jamaica to the USA to Prison and back to Jamaica again. His life it seems to me is one of charting courses, and off the beaten path. Without being boastful, almost with a sense of regret, and what seemed to me a just a glimpse of what he used to be, with just a tint of pain and a hint of maybe passed tragedies, he says "A me mek nuff yute know seh dem can fly out an do dem ting, me mek dem know the running inna Mobay, me mek dem know seh people can fly out an do this and that, me mek nuff a man reach a farrin... enuh." At one instant he even recants his time in US prisons where he says "ask Owen or Colin or dem man deh when mi deh a lock down, me still at the helm, an a nuff lock down them gimmi." He went on further to elaborate about how this kind of time gave him the solitude to look inward, to read more, to learn more... to become a writer. However, the depth of Japanese doesn't end there, he went on to say to the effect that the leader he was, isn't the leader he now intends to be. "Mi know the yute dem have a different idea of Japanese, but that was then, mi a go try show dem supm different yah now..."

One of the different things that he has just put on the ground is well, you know... "Japanese Thursdays" Barnett Lane, the talk-about event in the city these days. However, his re-invention and evolution hasn't been without some doubts, as he lets me know. "Just the other day, I was at the station clearing up the legalities of my likkle dance, and when I had finished sorting it out... Mr. So and so (some Police personnel) another police entered the room and Mr. So and so said this is Japanese, when the other says we just come out of a meeting bout you..." to which he responds "About what and why?" as it turns out the top cops in the city had been meeting to discuss none other than Japanese. He goes and links all the hierarchy and clears the air that they have nothing to fear, what they expect isn't what they are going to get. He wasn't disturbed by the eyeing and all of the hubbub that surrounds him, he even expected it. He is glad for it even, as he puts it "Japanese a go be supm different and mi waan dem see dat."

Before we closed though, it seemed Japs, had one last card up his sleeve, a question, does he know me or someone related to me, I gamble and opt for the family member I know everyone knows, Mobay's most popular Granny, and spit out "hmmm my Grandmother, you probably know her, it seems everyone does!" What's her name he asks "Dorothy Thompson" I reply. To which he says "Dorothy Thompson... Mrs Thompson from Tate Street... mi madda used to work fi ar enuh. Mi know seh mi muss know somebody fi you, who is your mother Juilette?" The answer of course is yes, we make a quick sweep down the family tree, and then go over to my Aunt (Judith, a childhood friend of his) and Stretch to make a quick chat on "its a small world after all."

Japanese it seems is inextricably linked to Montego Bay, Montegonians and surprisingly the Montegonian. Such is life. Well ladies and gentle people thanks for holding it out with me another week, and hope you learned something about our history in the second city from this little two part-er, which just barely peeps under the surface of Japanese and even Mobay. Till Next week.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

Ps. Big up Colin aka Missa MAC aka Mr. Pang... whose contribution was critical to the coming together of this article.

Talking Japanese – Part 1

"History is a set of lies agreed upon."
Napoleon Bonaparte

"History will be kind to me for I intend to write it"
Winston Churchill

"History is written by the victors."
Winston Churchill

"History doesn't repeat itself - at best it sometimes rhymes"
Mark Twain

 

THE PREAMBLE

Ching chung wah wang foo yeng... No ladies and gentlemen, this isn't your University 101 course intro to Japanese, I won't be teaching you the grammar, syntax, vocabulary or semantics, no accents or (H)accident as some people put it. This week we'll be taking a peep at more living history, more black history, more Montegonian history, more mystory, not dem story nor Kingston's story, but a tale that tells of one of our own Legends in the street or urban legends in some regard a tale of an icon, that if I didn't write, maybe we would have lost another story to the back pages of history or to some footnote in some book, because Mobay is home to icons such as Sam Sharpe, Jungle Jesus, September and Jah Cure and sometimes I believe that our heritage and legacy and contributions to this nation, financially, culturally, musically and intellectually have been treated with scant regard and pushed to the back burner. The Montegonian tale... our tale, takes us this evening to a man, the man who broke the Jawbone of the REAL King of the Dancehall, no not Fisheenie Man (Twins of twins seh to be King, Beenie need two Jaw fi bruk), Yellow Man, this man's tale spans decades and a variety of social and political eras from the age of tribal politics to the U.S. foreign invasion (by Jamaicans) to Jail and forward to contemporary Jamaica... readers one and call come hither and lend me your metaphorical ear, your eyes as it were and see the man I paint for you with words today, some of you who have your PHDs and Bachelor's Degree in urban living, gully sitt'n, garrison 'livity', thug life at the Montego Bay University of Street Thought (M.U.S.T.) will be familiar with this name, you must have heard it at your corners lecture, and those of you far removed from real life and living in a bubble meet... (drum roll) JAPANESE.

INTRO

Now how I came to this story is a little story in, and of it self. As with quite a few stories, this one starts at Junior X, a.k.a. Tash shop, sitting down with the usual host of characters, when one person says, "yuh know seh Japs soon come," when another person whimsically and sarcastically replies, "heh, from mi a lilly pickney mi hear seh Japs a come enuh" and as if tempting the hand of fate, another person, Colin's phone rings... Bling Bling "Aye yow wah deh Gallang... eeh Dat yuh seh... wah yuh seh... Japs deh yah, eeeh hih" and so the tale began Japanese was here...

JAPANESE THE LEGEND

Like most great men or even popular men, their name precedes them, so too with Japanese. To date some of his exploits have been recorded by the National newspapers of the day, and is the model from which many of the 'now-a-days' top-a-tops fashion themselves. He is a man who can say "been there and done that" for circumstances, must self styled or fashioned dons wish they in there list of experiences to put on their Bad-man résumés and curriculum vitae. His name is hallowed in the grittiest street sense of the word. Most "beknowing" (be known/ well known) characters of the second city and formerly the friendly city, can tell you a tale or two about this man, known for his generosity in the street and his uncommon acumen. Cellmates of his will tell you about a man who is focus, no nonsense, intense, his own critic, an ethic and character that manifests they say even when he was locked away in the states manifested around simple things like Ludo games, his fervour for scrabble, his passion for reading and books. Other people can tell you of his indomitable spirit in lock down and how he channelled what could have been a life crushing experience into literature... yes ladies and gentlemen, know this the same Samson that broke Yellowman's Jawbone is writer, whose literature will soon be on sale here in Jamaica as well. And for people who live in a far away bubble, know this, Japs, isn't unlike you, but probably more like you than you think, an avid Sidney Sheldon reader, and Danielle Steele, and Louis L'Amour, and John Grisham. The street in sprinkled with talk-a-tons who will tell you much more than I can in one article about the legacy of Japanese, some will tell you about the link they have some will tell you about, what he did for them and there community.

All this is not so relevant however, what I am sure you all want to know is the man. Japanese the man, not the don, nor the past, nor the myth or the legend, or the hype... Well, I managed to get a hold of him and have a chat courtesy of MR. PANG... and so we sat and had a chat, just to shoot the breeze and hold an informal interview of sorts. No questionnaires, no pens, no paper, no recorders, no "nutten"... just a chat to get his view of things, life, Mobay, himself, the legend, his plans and yadda yadda yadda. But I've run out of space for this week... so stick around till next week when we learn to talk more Japanese.

 

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com

Of Samson & Delilah: Rasta vs Ooman

There are three things men can do with women: love them, suffer for them, or turn them into literature.
~Stephen Stills

Nature has given women so much power that the law has very wisely given them little.
~Samuel Johnson

What men desire, is a virgin which is a whore.
~Edward Dahlbert

The girls that are always easy on the eyes are never easy on the heart.
~Author Unknown

Greetings once again ladies and gentle people, once again, I've found my way to everyone's favourite topic... WOMEN. The articles with women seems to be a crowd pleaser, who would have guessed it... women love women, men love women, readers love women, I love women... though I am ever cautious of them. Ironically, Courtney Melody's 'Modern Girl' just started playing on the computer, "I need a modern girl with some old fashion loving..." Ha what a dream eeh? Anyway! I digress. This week's prattle knocked me over the head while down by Freeport last week Friday. Went to link a friend and while waiting, a familiar face from Peace View/Cassava Walk, a cute Miss by the name of Kedra, pops up with another hotty hotty friend and start to hold a palaver with a crew of Rasta. A lively and animated discourse on the state of Rastafari today pops up, not under that nice intellectual banner I just typed out, but in the more everyday forms of conversations, when the girls broach the topic of "how dem now days Ras yah so hot?" Drum roll and that t.v. thematic sound that chips in when something surprising happens (doom dum dmmmmm, or something to that effect). The girls broached that timelessly sensitive topic about what does and doesn't a Rastaman do?

Now the age old tale of men with long hair and women is cast anew. It seems coincidental that in my music play list is a young woman by the name of Regina Spektor who sings a song called Samson. It's about loving a man with long hair, and cutting it... took me sometime to appreciate that song but... I got around to it. By the way on the topic of Samson, I'll share a nice Bible verse with you... help wash down this topic... Judges 16 vs 17 "And he told her all his heart, and said unto her: `There hath not come a razor upon my head; for I have been a Nazirite unto God from my mother`s womb; if I be shaven, then my strength will go from me, and I shall become weak, and be like any other man.`And when Delilah saw that he had told her all his heart, she sent and called for the lords of the Philistines, saying: `Come up this once, for he hath told me all his heart.` Then the lords of the Philistines came up unto her, and brought the money in. And she made him sleep upon her knees; and she called for a man, and had the seven
locks of his head shaven off; and she began to afflict him, and his strength went from him."

Mind you, Kedra and her friend never came to trim anybody, but... they did under the guise of fun, joke and entertainment, asked the Rastas some piercing and pinching questions. The first was the crack at "how dem now a days Ras yah so hot eeeh? Straight pants and boasty turban, polo shirt... A whaaapm to crocus bag, whaapm to slippers and sandals eeh? Tell you bout dem now a days Ras! Her friend proceeded to chant "Hatta Ball, Fiyah Ball." It didn't end there either, one of the two then exclaims no sah, mi tink mi all a smell roll on... nutten good nah gallang roun yah man, dem now a days Ras! They playfully harassed another Rasta about resembling Bin Laden, they danced with the Rasta man, they teased and provoked in only a way a woman can, "yuh simmi, yuh ovastand!" They attacked me on the issue of me wearing ear ring, they even touched the topic of matters of the flesh.

On matters of the flesh, I remember a police after search a Rasta friend of mine, started giving his girl a little speech, so the police asks who was her MAN, after she hesitated and fumbled, the Ras told her to speak up and tell him. Upon realising that he was lyrics the Rasta man's woman, the police proceed to chastise the young man and lament on and on about how he "cyaah understand dem new fandangle Rasta, have hot girl, and mix up wid so much flesh and how the way old time Rasta bun flesh not yuh not even too see dem wid ooman" and yadda yadda yadda. I have a friend Mr. Pierce, Teacher P. Who whenever spotting me even giving a girl the eye, love to grumble "Harumph... hmmm... tell you about Rasta today you see... hmmm... nuh artical at all... love flesh too much... Delilah." Just the other day some people and I were debating Sizzla Kalonji who one man lamented had gone a stray... from "Black Woman and Child" to "Pump Up Her _-_-", and in all seriousness and logical reasoning I had to ask, so after celebrating Black woman and child, isn't it only fair and reasonable that he get a chance to tell you how Black woman got that child? More questions of Rasta and women arise, and the women out at free port had questions to arouse and arise. Sometimes even I have to wonder how so few Rastas have a Rasta Woman, and how so many Rastas go to a Salon, which reminds me, my friend Junior X/Tash has a pretty Sister (Niesey) who I call Fantasy Sister and when I do, he reminds me... "Heh mek sure yuh 'member seh Niesey own hairdresser shop and dem chemical deh cyaah come off ar hand, so you better know wah yuh eh do."

The nature, state, role, function, form and evolution of Rastafari, especially Rasta and women today carry a whole lot of questions to the front (no pun intended) and are questions and issue I think most Rasta shy away from, and I think they are pertinent relevant questions that need to address, not just Rasta and woman, but the whole body that is Rasta. Till next week... in the words of Kedra "HATTA BALL!" Hahahaa.

OOMAN

Women like silent men. They think they're listening.

~Marcel Achard, Quote, 4 November 1956

Sure God created man before woman. But then you always make a rough draft before the final masterpiece.

~Author Unknown

Women cannot complain about men anymore until they start getting better taste in them.

~Bill Maher

The two women exchanged the kind of glance women use when no knife is handy.

~Ellery Queen

A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction.

~Oscar Wilde

Jesus is the wisest man I know, he never married and his only rumoured girlfriend was a whore, it doesn't get better than that!
~Author Unknown

 

Well I did say that I would be under the "ooman dem" tail (no pun intended) this year, didn't I? Well it seems I can't run around the issue any longer eh. Firstly because it seems people keep bothering me about women, some women keep bothering me, and I did promise to put them in their place this year, and I just came from breakfast this morning round by Likkle Dread who insisted on telling the crowd and trying to get them to believe that I am the biggest "gyal-ist" in Paradise and MoBay. Ironic (Imagine none a dem big bottom girl weh mi ever big up not even gimmi a smile nor a blessing)... seeing that I used to try to get his daughter's attention, a one Miss Lisa Thorpe, but "bwoy" Rasta lose out in the Gideon eh... such is life... I think Likkle Dread is mocking me, what do you think? Anyway, this week I don't have a specific topic or agenda but It can't hurt to talk about women eh, I love them, you love, them, even women seem to love them too these days. Which reminds me of a bit of home made comedy the other day... I saw a Rasta man psssseeeeeeeeeeeeeting down a woman and running a few lines, when she made an attempt to Boof the Ras and tell him she was a lesbian, to which he humorously replied "Me too, a only ooman alone me f---." I don't if you find it funny but I nearly died laughing.

Before going any further, I want everyone to know, these women articles are meant for all women not just some, everyone. "The batter creps, the lawyers, the doctors, the lesbians, the freaks, the bisexuals, the school girls, the go-gos, the "ho's", the thuggee thuggee, the miss hitch up pon corners, miss baby madda, miss love bun weed and parro, miss skets, miss natty, miss Ras, miss bank teller, miss gwaany gwaany, miss goodas, miss video light, everybody mi a talk to unnu... all ooman." So that little anecdote I think is a nice launching point for the article, it shows us how the dynamic and relations and the interplay between men and women has vastly changed over the years. Firstly, when last you had a female companion, that was your "parri," you just jam, reason and such, without the "buy mi a..." coming up. When last did you meet a woman who could role with the crew, or could contribute to your creative process, or to help you build or to assist you positively... Jah know... I don't want to seem like a reprobate but... I can't tell when last. How about you? If you have anything to say on this man and woman issue you can e-mail me and tell me eh.

And have you seen the rampant changes in how things proceed between the sexes... open barter. Have you seen all the schoolers who look like dancehall queens? Have you been meeting as many lesbians or part time lesbians (bi-sexual) as I have? Have you seen the change in calibre of women, most of them these days seem to me flakey, ditzy, unaware, non-progressive, unconscious, vain, materialistic, acquisitive, lazy, concern more about clothes, money, fashion, hype cars and hype man and being the hottest. Like the line from one of my current favourite song The Roots' Seed 2.0, "She wants platinum ice and gold, she wants a whole lot of supm to fold, if your an obstacle, she just drop yuh cold 'cause, one monkey don't star the show." Now think on those words, it's the truest thing. The way I see it these days, I don't even try to talk to women, because right now I'm into the business of building my little empire and pursuing dreams, so I don't have money to squander on frolicking and chasing skirts, my money will not be at the hair dresser shop, and it won't be spent fuelling the suss spots where women congregate to build negative vibes and discuss "who fah man have money and who fah man nah seh nutten etc and who deh wid who." The father up above know, I'm afraid of these women now. No reciprocity no give and take... just take take take take take and take from as many men as you can.

There are even more gender, man and woman issues to peruse and to examine... this article won't be able to look at the porn schoolers, the rumoured freak show and circus out at Freeport, the rise of lesbianism, our attitudes to prostitution, sex and the church, Rastafari and sexuality (matters of the flesh yuh know), the early blooming TV generation, the men who have opted to become women, the homosexuals and why women befriend them, the age of consent, the blurring gender fashion and such. Sexuality in Mobay and women in Mobay on a whole needs to be explored and the Montegonian will soon touch (again no pun intended) that for you.

In closing I go big up some women still who hold the order for me... well firstly My Mother an number one fan, then Laurayne who still call mi from Trinidad every week, Chip Chip who lively up every dance for me and one of the few women who will buy me a drink and see that "mi sort out," Mel... Mammi Noodle... "who nuh stop from harass me seh mi nuh put her in the paper" and insist on call me BoBo Tickle... (sigh), Monique Melbourne and Tanya... true we can reason all the while, Rash... who insists I call her Mrs Pessoa, Tess... for the support, Cherry who is ever supportive, Natalie... true yuh cane row mi natty free (but mi go rush you soon eh), Poopy mi likkle dwata... And that young lady who saw me the other day on Strand Street and made my day by telling me one of my articles made her cry... Cassandra... Soso (even though you gimmi cold shoulder all the while)... Shorty... Michelle...Crystal and Ms. Pretty Coolie Girl 'cause unnu ever look just too nice and light up mi day and all the beautiful women who pass through Likkle Dread restaurant in the morning .

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

PS. Ramon (EMPIRE) don't bad mind me true mi big up the ooman dem eh... and watch mi nah go get none.

Aluta Continua: The Never Ending Battle Year 2

"To be capable of steady friendship or lasting love, are the two greatest proofs, not only of goodness of heart, but of strength of mind."
William Hazlitt

"Leadership is not something that is done to people, like fixing your teeth. Leadership is unlocking people's potential to become better."
Bill Bradley

"A leader is one who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way."
John C. Maxwell

"A little rudeness and disrespect can elevate a meaningless interaction to a battle of wills and add drama to an otherwise dull day."
Bill Watterson

"When principles that run against your deepest convictions begin to win the day, then battle is your calling, and peace has become sin; you must, at the price of dearest peace, lay your convictions bare before friend and enemy, with all the fire of your faith."
Abraham Kuyper

 

Aluta Continua is a Portuguese (not Afrikaans) saying meaning "The struggle continues". It is highly believed that it was discovered as an inscription on Kunta Kinte's commemorate. So says Wikipedia and the Wiktionary if you are familiar with the internet like that. Anyway, I always liked that phrase, because in a way I believe it is probably the ultimate summation or word to sum up what life really is... the continuous struggle... the never ending battle to find freedom liberty and peace, to stave off poverty, to escape "sufferation" and feed the constant needs for food, for both belly and brain, to nourish your body, to keep your brain active and stimulated, to find emotion comfort, and those that only the opposite sex can bring (though this seems to be an issue of debate these days...). It sums up also my attitude to the new year. Seeing I had no real holiday as such and no merry making really, I just felt as though the season missed me while I was on the grind and hustling together funds and cobbling together some semblance of a life. Also, I liked the phrase because I remember it from the days of yore when JBC used to sign off and showed Alex Haley's Roots and shows like Shaka Zulu. And of course seeing it is Portuguese and my last name is as well, I think the stars and planets aligned these coincidences for another article. And seeing that since the other day, battles, battlefields, death and warriors has been the theme well it only seems fitting to start the Montegonians year just like mine... "The Struggle Continues."

Well this year I didn't stick around to hear the thunder in the mountains at New Year. Though I did hear from other souljahs in the street that the mountains and valleys of Mobay did rumble and CHK CHK THOOOOM ruled the night, the only difference it seems police sounded sirens to try to quell the bellowing barrels and bullets. The New Year caught me at Sonny Ranking's Ball... watching fools floss their fleeting funds for females who will probably on flirt and flitter away by night, Hennessy by the bottle and Moet by the case, a monumental waste of money eh! When we should be pooling resources to make a better nation, building a city, here was the mass of people who ought to be my peers, my equals, only chasing skirts and playing to the crowd and playing the popularity game, who flossed this, who f—ked her... silly, stupid and inane. I must confess though, the women there did look on the premium side... pity I don't premium style, premium money or premium dress. The women too played the same silly games, looking for pockets to pillage and pilfer, Delilah to play, Jezebel to portray, peddling pelvis or any of the other not so polite P words, simply to pursue flight of fancy and momentary pleasure at the expense of crumbling young men's little empires, putting him back on rent and his car loan. Where are the soldiers... ???

This year though, I am going to be on the "Ooman dem case" because they are laming up in the Gideon too and to be honest I will not deny like a lot of men, that Jamaican society was built on the strength of women, "MAMA and Granny dem" and truth be told I feel the Jamaican empire is falling apart because women have fallen out of line. No more soldiering... just hair, nails, tattoos, sex, money, suss and lies, and I am not one for the subjugation of women but I think their neglect of home and children, the new generation of Baff-hands that can't cook, wash or garden, who need washing machines, TV dinners, pre-seasoned chicken, Superplus ready cook rotisseries, who grow up MTV and KFC... are now the invalids and that are left to herald in new generations and scire the next labour force, yet they themself have no knowledge or skills or valid facts or information to pass on and perpetuate... Yeah man mi a talk it loud and clear, "NUFF OOMAN a move marunga a road and gallang like batta crep, jeye ears and piss'n tail style iyah," "2000 and Love (2008) that cannot work again. Everyday sex and no food, baby at home starving, house a burn down wid pickney true unnu deh a road a gossip, or hitch up pon corners a bun weed wid man, matter still inna eye and white white deh a mouth corner... naaah man..." Anywhere I see them this year 'STRAIGHT FIYAH.'

Ladies and gentlemen, rumhead and stockie, goodas and batta crep, beggar and bleachers, badman and gun boy, this year is a different pattern, it is time to continue the build back. Time to reinitiate progress, finish build that house, buy some more block, fence off your place, garden up, start the empire, fix the roof, get creative, no money thing, start live up and stop flexing like you gonna give up, stop frolicking and gallivanting / gyally-vanting... put more muscle for the hustle, toil and tussle, bounce in the bustle, time to expand the shop, time to re-stock, time to decorate your room, paint it out, if is get back on the school program do that too, start nurturing you talents, it is time to shine, make this year your's and mine, cause this year, this year the weak will be culled from the strong, this year, this year I will be waiting to sight up the movement of Jah people, and if Jah people don't start the movements well... we shall perish...

Yannick N. Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

Letter from the Battlefield

 

"Take the first step, and your mind will mobilize all its forces to your aid. But the first essential is that you begin. Once the battle is startled, all that is within and without you will come to your assistance."

Robert Collier

"You're in the midst of a war: a battle between the limits of a crowd seeking the surrender of your dreams, and the power of your true vision to create and contribute. It is a fight between those who will tell you what you cannot do, and that part of you that knows / and has always known / that we are more than our environment; and that a dream, backed by an unrelenting will to attain it, is truly a reality with an imminent arrival."

Anthony Robbins

"To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting."
E. E. Cummings

"The hardest battle you're ever going to fight is the battle to be just you."
Leo F. Buscaglia

Good Evening ladies and gentlemen wherever you are this Friday evening, I beg this Friday the last of the year, that you lend me your ear, and hear my voice when you see these words, for I write to you now as warrior weary worn and forlorn in the midst of a battlefield of everyday life. This has been a year like no other, I've watched the year begin with a barrage of bullets, and watched a bullet start the year in Paradise killing Jerome "Gully" Morgan, and travelling almost similarly from the literal level and taking on spiritual form to kill the very spirit and vibe and essence of a community, a bullet that has travelled throughout Mobay and wreaked untold havoc and mourning and snuffed out hopes, dreams and lives. But before finishing its year long tour of Mobay, on the way back it makes a tour de force of sorts in Paradise accompanied by a demon army to take one more life in Paradise, that of one Cedric Thorpe. And sometimes I wonder if I predicted all this... at the start of the year when I wrote an article January 13, 2007, The Neverending Battle, that got quoted in the Observer, it read...

"Bam bam bam bloiy bloiy bloiy chk chk chk thoom thoom pieee pieee blam balm bookam bookam.no amount of onomatopoeia could convey to you the grand gun orchestra that played in Norwood, Gulf, Glendevon, Canterbury, Albion and Gully (all inner-city communities of the city of Montego Bay, Jamaica) to commence the New Year. Literally the year in St James started with a BANG!

At the stroke of midnight December 31, 2006 or the morn of January 1, 2007, I was at the yellow night owl's outpost in Paradise, Glen Skeng's shop, only to see the whole Paradise pull to a halt and I watched as multitude of people stopped what they were doing to come outside and listen to the barrage of bullets in what seemed like gangsters singing their own anthem. I watched people listen, and listened as well to gunshots on rapid from 12 (midnight) to 12:30 am and I counted somewhere in the region of near 500 rounds and can only imagine what I missed. The year has begun, the garrison has spoken."

Compound a year like that with serious political upheavals, escalating murders, police killings, fatherless children, dying communities, urban decay, poor environments, deteriorating surroundings, pollution, global warming, MONSTER INFLATION YEAR, escalating oil prices, cost of living off the chart, young men and adolescents becoming killers and crack-heads, girls selling their bodies for KFC, phone cards and maybe cash sometimes, beggars on every corner, corrupt politicians, and now doesn't the future look really bright and promising. Do you understand why I am worn do see the world with my eyes now? How many lives do you know have been snuffed out this year huh? How many of your soldiers have gone by knives, bullets and car crashes? I not about you... but let me tell you, this year I've seen too many, more than I feel healthy, social and functional human beings need to see.

The talking heads on television and the radio-heads will continue to jibber jabber about one love and other generic tokens of love and try to reminisce on the "good" old days. But the problems that afflict Montego Bay like some crippling cancer won't be solved by speech but serious resolve, by serious SOULJAHS ready to stop playing hypocritical games, to stop laming up in the Gideon, to stop palavering on corners round the clock, to start improving the world around them, starting from there room, beautifying the room, the house, the yard, the community... to start looking to make small changes that will sum up if you are willing to look beyond instant gratifications, to take pride in small battles and small victories, and to know an to take faith in the fact that other soldiers are working, soldiers who are building better worlds and brighter lives, soldiers not caught up in frivolous and trivial vanities and idle pursuits, soldiers who need more soldier s of substance, not "fren tief" who will cripple his own parri's enterprise, more loyal women, who don't seek to solely take from her man's pocket but "boots him" then. Women soldiers too, who won't be in the dance while baby at home starving, in the prettiest clothes while, baby look shabby, women who will not simply open their legs on the basis of finances or hype, women fit for the war, sound minds and sturdy body and steady intellect, keen minds and pure hearts... that's what this battle is calling for, if we don't have soldiers like that then the city is lost... the communities are lost, the nation is lost... others have done it... are you prepared to do it?

The battle to change a nation, to salvage a people is started, with me, and many others I don't even know who too, have woken up to the same demoralising life as myself, to lies and pointless tradition, to a sea of corruption... so now I ask... what are you doing in the battle, in the Armageddon, in these days... are you making the world better or are you just another "MTV cable TV Cosmopolitan living in a bubble corners idling vagina peddling drug abusing rap music and alien culture junkie and zombie"? Are you making your world better (and I don't mean financially) are you making THE world better... if not then "yuh nuh fit fi the Gideon" and "to how the race a run its gone be bitter..." to end with a quote from the Gangster for life himself... Mavado. Till next year... If I make it till then!

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

Gideon Morning

"Everyone you meet in your life - even total strangers - are already intimately connected to you. The idea that we are all separate and distinct beings is nothing but an illusion. We are all parts of a larger whole, like individual cells in a body. (…) When you look at other people, you're really looking at yourself. "

– Steve Pavlina

Good day dear Jamaica, today I have a tale to tell that I stumbled upon this morning, the Gideon Morning, a story that is a threnody and a lamentation of sorts, a story of mourning and sorrowful "woaahees" that began while we were crossing the Atlantic packed in vessels like sardine, a story of weeping and wailing that continued through slave fields and rebellions, a cycle of bitter memories and a sour history that continues to this day, it is in essence the story of Montego Bay, the story of Jamaica, the story of our lives. This story of weeping our penchant for producing wailers and wailing souls for the world and through music has made us famous. It is this same story of dead, death, dying, bitter pain, tragedy, unforgiving scars, torturous existences, that I have stumbled upon and come across, on Dec '06. At the 11^th hour of December 5, 2007, somewhere in the Gulley Banks, the hills and valleys, the garrisons of the Second City, I hear the familiar round of bullet bullet bullet, kick off in the night, unanother merciless crusade to pierce flesh and break bones and shatter lives. It so happens that a few days prior I had been speaking to a very old friend of mine via internet, one Mesha-Gaye Brown, someone I hadn't spoken to for since a millennia if you get how long I'm trying to convey to you, she was in the States, doing Med etc and going about life and pondering the plight of Jamaica, and whether or not she should return seeing the hell hole we have built for ourselves. A profound question, should she? What would you tell her?

Well maybe we have told her. I bucked up the answer this morning. While at bottom road in Paradise eh, near 6 o' clock or probably a little after, "a Rasta Man buss the corner and seh Police man Missa Brown dead last night and dem jussa find him dis mawnin dung a Albion..." seeing that bottom side Paradise is close to Albion the link is fairly strong there and a mass of people descend on Albion to see the proceedings and I follow, on the way there I connect the dots, the shots I head last night, which police man name Mister Brown this is that lives on Second Street... imagine the big expletive that pops into my mind when I come to the realization that it's Mesha-Gaye's father. The same old friend from donkey years ago that I just talk to not too long ago.

Imagine my frame of mind walking into Second Street, a hobbled dirt lane, the road seemingly left unattended by Government or whichever agent responsible, chickens hob knobbing around, zinc fences, board house on the right, the Albion School's open playfield and back yard on the left, and the road turns into an incline, a mini mountain before me, and the sun peeping over on the left, the morning light trickling in this rustic nook and rural oasis in the middle of Mobay, and the mournful "eh eh eh eh" and hook line "it's too late..." thumping in my ear from some speaker box somewhere... Imagine all that... and then imagine the picture I see when I start to descend the incline of the road and walk toward a mass of people all lined up on the left, they compose of all kinds of characters intermingled, Police with long guns, gangster types, semi gangsters, old gangsters, regular folk, Rasta men, children, folks going to work and stopped, some with matter/cold still brimming at the eyelids, all standing to the left like a rising or well organized choir, all mournfully lamenting... Imagine how I have to feel next to actually see her father, gruesomely destroyed, and troubled already by scavengers. Maybe it is too late eh!

Imagine the scene, Police mourning police and people cursing the Police. One woman put it like this "Imagine eeeh, a good police enuh, a him defend we dung yah and look out fi wi, good police enuh, and Police live side a him and people call Police and dem only come, come spin round and glimpse if nutten a gwaan. Ah dem owna squadie enuh, and them just come spin round, an him a good police, Imagine if a did poor people like we, Imagine eeeh, dem owna squadie, dem nuh have a use." Imagine this is the Gideon I wake up to, this is what I wake up in, and Imagine, governments and politicians want me to believe that there is a future here, that I can build a home and life and be safe and raise children... Imagine that? Isn't it a wicked and cruel LIE???

Now its been 400 years and some more and we have been suffering, mothers weeping, how many times have had to sing "Johnny was good man," how many more children will have to go pointlessly fatherless, how many more mothers won't have husbands, how much longer will these children suffer, how many more time will we have to have a Christmas rebellion, how many more Septembers from Salt Spring will it take... how many more soldiers must give up their lives till we can live sensibly and peaceable, so that we might govern our own existence, so that we may Justice, so that the suffering will stop. Ladies and Gentlemen, in a most startling and profound, yet gruesome way, I think we have answered young Miss Brown's question. But might I ask, like on those popular game shows, is that your final answer?

Yannick Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

Gideon Morning