I probably shouldn’t have been listening to that song at that age (maybe 10 or 11?) but I finished my cousin’s batteries and almost wore out that tape rewinding and listening, rewinding and listening, rewinding and listening…until I fell asleep at night.  Everything about that song gripped me and since then, I’ve never let go of Dancehall (even when I lament and am pissed off).  Mr. Riley is also responsible for the classic riddims that demonstrate how I think Dancehall should be done: so that you feel the bass in your belly bottom! The kind of bassline that makes me delight in standing before a speaker drink in hand.  Bliss.

To say that this man, Winston Riley, is a legendary Dancehall and Reggae producer is an understatement.  For now, I’ll leave the eulogizing, remembrance, and sharing of his vast discography to other more qualified folks…but I can’t help but be sad several times over because of his passing.  He was a young man, only about 65 years old.  He was shot last November and succumbed to those injuries last night.  I wonder if the shooter or shooters understand what they have done?  Likely not, and it’s even more likely that they simply don’t care.  

We (music lovers, Jamaican music lovers, Jamaicans…so many groups this “we” could apply to) never really feted him while he was alive, never really celebrated the vast musical legacy that he created or the influence that he had on the industry that’s brought us such attention and love.  Instead, as is painfully usual, his accomplishments are recognized in farrin and we don’t catch up until he’s dead.  His son is one of Jamaica’s best known and best DJs, Kurt Riley.  Even a small sampling of the tunes that Winston Riley produced or the artists that he discovered and guided is too small to truly pay tribute.    Now that Mr. Riley’s gone lots of nice things are being said about his work and influence, and I hope that young Jamaicans and especially young Jamaicans interested in producing and music soak up this musical education.  He should be able to bask in this tribute now being made to his legacy, to enjoy it.  As I write this even I don’t think I’ve fully grasped the magnitude of the man’s work + I realize that I too took him granted…it’s so easy to just consume and not really understand the roots.  Dangerous too.  I know it’s become cliche but we really shouldn’t keep making this mistake of not learning about, understanding, grasping, and recognizing those among us who build the culture so many of us hold dear.  

But, even as I’m selfishly mourning this loss and what I or we did not do, I am even sadder and sorry that my friend lost such a close family member who had such an impact on his life.

Walk good, Mr. Riley.

Mrs. Simpson-Miller and Mr. Holness

In the weeks leading up to December 29 – even before then-PM Holness made the announcement – I had many discussions about which party was the best choice.  Initially I thought that the elections would be close and could go either way but as the time drew nearer there was a niggle in the back of my head.  I kept hearing about the G2K-funded and produced advertisements that were hard-hitting against then-Opposition leader Simpson-Miller.  Folks seemed to find them funny…but were the effective? It seemed that the G2K was hitting only Mrs. Simpson-Miller and hard too.  I finally saw the ads.  The papers one made me chuckle, I must admit, but the one where bits and pieces of her speeches were stiched together to create an image that she is only a raging virago seemed to go a bit too far.  But folks have (and still have) their issues with Mrs. Simpson-Miller as their leader so maybe it’d work…?  Still, the ads planted a seed of concern for me about the the JLP’s chances.  Then there were the gaffes on the campaign trail by Mr. Holness (whether gay Jamaicans should serve in Parliament, the correct exchange rates in 2007, etc…), the issue with Holness’ children being home-schooled, JDIP, and the oblivion of Minister Nelson about the US spy plane (linked to the Tivoli Massacre) that the JLP finally remembered.  Too much backtracking and covering their ass, and their stunningly poor management revealed a deep arrogance, brazenness, and cluelessness.  Whatever euphoria and poll blip they’d seen after Mr. Holness’ ascension election were whittled away.  And that whole youth thing?  Stopped gaining traction.  Then again I’d said that a government led by Mr. Holness would not get my vote for one simple reason: anyone who could ban Beka Lamb - or reasonably rely on advice to do so – could  not be my leader. Nope.  

That's a whole lotta orange...

So the elections came and went.  The PNP won in a landslide – 42 – 21 seats in the House of Parliament.  By 10 PM on December 29 it was clear that the PNP, led by Mrs. Simpson-Miller, would form the next Government of Jamaica. She finally had her own mandate.  The JLP was trounced.  I believe that this week is the first I’ve heard or seen of them in the local Jamaican news.  In the aftermath it became apparent that the JLP was just simply too arrogant and not cognizant of how the average Jamaican was coping, struggling in 2011 going on 2012. Meanwhile the PNP showed itself to be masters of groundwork and grassroots mobilization.  Lots has been written to dissect this loss – my favourites are by Annie Paul and Jean Lowrie-Chin.  I’m not interested in concluding with my own dissection.

Instead, I have 5 observations about the recent elections, all of which trouble me:

Old style politics is infecting the younger generation.

Young Jamaicans are rabid.  I’ve already seen too much of the hubris and rub-it-in-your-face-my-side-won-and-yours-lost smugness.  And by young I mean younger than I am all the way up to mid-30s.  It sickens me…it’s not the ordinary Schadenfreude at all.  Too much retribution.  Too much callousness.  I worry that the engagement that many laud, including myself, is being hijacked by the same political tribalism that’s infected the country for almost 50 years.  It would seem that either young people become rabid or…

Voter turnout is a huge problem — too many disaffected, apathetic, people.

What are the figures? Scarcely 50% of the voting population showed up to vote? And this is one of the most peaceful general elections ever.  So what kept so many people away? Under any circumstances that kind of turnout is dismal.  If only half of the population enumerated and then only half of them voted, then 25% of the country is speaking.  That cannot be a good thing.  No, it is not a good thing.  True many felt as if they were stuck between a rock and hard place and instead chose not to vote…but I urge you not to do that again.  Yes, I respect your CHOICE not to vote but I hope that you realize that this does far more harm than good.  You’ve lost your leverage to hold this government and its opposition accountable.  Additionally, you’ve lost your leverage to make either or both parties change to address the needs you – and likely many others – see as critical to Jamaica’s future.  Both parties now know that they really need only appeal to their base – who will always show up either because of deep loyalty or greased palms – and say a healthy fuck you to you in the process.  They now know that they don’t need you.  Do you now know it too? I saw many young people on TV programs before and after the elections talk about sending a message to both parties that you’re pissed off.  What message exactly? And for older people who did not vote: shame, you should know better.  You have really accomplished nothing.  Have you even salved your own conscience?  Neither of these parties has any need to address your legitimate concerns (lack of good leadership, lack of concrete plan to address the economy, crime, education, all of that).  The vote, the thing that gives you tremendous power over the people that you employ, has been squandered.  Why? If each party can continue to gain incrementally among the voting population – i.e. just enough to enjoy power – without feeling the true power of the full voting population then the harm done to Jamaica’s political foundation is even greater than I can imagine.  Even worse, the PNP almost got a super majority in Parliament.  No party should ever have that much power.  Take it from someone who was made to stand silent on election day for so long: you must exercise your right to vote.  No good can come of being silent.  So yes, I respect your choice but I cannot accept it as the right one…

Of course we could also have a discussion about my premise…

Need to allow a vote for MP separately from a vote for country leader

MPs must live in their constituencies.

Yes, this argument.  I’ve heard every argument against this, from “it won’t work and the system works fine now” to “do you want some constituent to come knocking on your window at all hours.”  Well the system does not work fine and no, I don’t want someone knocking on my window at all hours which is why I am not involved in representational politics.  Because you do represent the people in this little political unit.  Every time I see a “safe seat” – they’re not all represented by big name politicians and they’re not all garrisons – the place looks like hell.  Poor roads and other infrastructure are usually the first thing I notice, followed by a number of unemployed people. Sure the MP will have to work with local government officials to address these officials but I’d be willing to bet that if an MP had to live there, things could not and would not be that bad.  Further, Jamaica may also lessen this practice of foisting a person upon a community to be its representative.  Go live there.  Work in the community.  Understand your constituents’ needs.  Understand what must be changed.  Get to know the people you work for.  An MP shouldn’t do this from this great distance or primarily through proxies.  I suppose that they’ll have a staff to manage things but making your home in a place, I think, necessarily means that you won’t accept certain conditions.  Do you really think Mrs. Simpson-Miller would live in her constituency? She’s come from “humble beginnings” but she surely didn’t remain there…why should her constituents live in in those kinds of beginnings? Poor is one thing, squalor is another…

Should MPs be cabinet ministers?

Here lies the case of Christopher Tufton.  Many of “us” thought him a good and effective minister of Agriculture and a viable candidate for leader of the JLP.  Then he lost his seat on December 29.  It was close but he still lost.  The people of his constituency in St. Elizabeth rejected him.  Why? I imagine (mostly) because they found him a poor representative for them, or an ineffective Member of Parliament, or they preferred his opponent Hugo Buchannan.  Is it that his duties as Minister eclipsed his life and he simply had insufficient time to be an effective Member of Parliament?   I think that there’s a good chance that this was the case, and it seems a shame.  So, does this need to be changed too?

________

I’ve been asked a few times if I was in Jamaica to vote.  I was not.  I’d booked my ticket even before Mr. Golding stepped aside.  Moreover, I could not vote: I was not enumerated.  I’ve been away from Jamaica for so long that I can no longer be tied to a constituency.  The last time I could have been enumerated was in 2003 when I was home doing a semester at The UWI.  A local government election was being held in my constituency and I was excited to vote.  I’d left Jamaica at 16 and now was old enough and in the country and interested and excited…but I missed the deadline for enumeration and even though there were a few weeks before the elections would be held, I could not enumerate.  To say that I was angry is an understatement.  In a way I was an electoral refugee: unable to vote in the U.S. because I was not yet a citizen but hampered by my own country by rules ostensibly meant to prevent fraud that in reality disenfranchised so many.  Imagine turning 18 before an election but after this deadline…and you’re in limbo until the list opens up again.  Right.  But that’s the law so there it is…

Anyway, it was now 2011: I could have flown down to enumerate and then again to vote.  This is the way that many Jamaicans who live abroad to it.  But I don’t consider that fair…I no longer make my home inJamaica.  Instead, I am a member of a Diaspora estimated to be at least as large as the population of the The Rock.  Though progress is like molasses, I’d prefer that the people who live in Jamaica develop and implement a policy that incorporates my vote.  I am very vocal about Jamaica politics and policy, and I think that I and others like me have a place in those areas. But the plain fact is that I don’t live in Jamaica and, until things change, a vote ought to be cast by those who are directly represented through that voting process – Jamaicans who live in Jamaica.  So, no I didn’t go to Jamaica this Christmas to vote…nor did I bandooloo it and vote.

I’ve had a very…tumultuous…relationship with God.  I grew up attending church regularly with my Grandmother (surprise), sang in the junior choir, attended Sunday School.  As I made my way through high school I attended church less but I did enjoy when I went.  When I moved to the U.S. I went to a church-run boarding school so attending services was required but I didn’t mind.  Besides, the chapel was beautiful and I felt safe there.  Then my Grandmother died and I just began to resent church, God, and faith.  Didn’t make sense to me that a faithful, kind, church-going woman who was a good Christian would have to suffer so much and then die.  It still doesn’t make sense to me but I am less angry.  Please don’t give me a platitude about how she fought the good fight or something like that.  Thanks.

So profound an impact did her death and my feelings toward God thereafter have on me that my college essay was titled “From God and Back” when I was trying to make my way back to God, so to speak.  I know my grades were critical to my college acceptance rate but I’m pretty sure that my essay played a significant role as well.  But then in college I got busy with finding myself (whatever that means) repping Jamaica, running this organization and that group and had little time for church.  Plus I’d become angry again, disenchanted, especially since I had yet to fully process Grandma’s death.  I remember one Easter I was determined to attend church so I did — an American Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) Baptist hybrid I believe — that I walked out of before the service even began.  I was offended by the preacher having the young children approach the altar and then parade around the church to “show off their best.”  Say what? I grew up in Methodist church and attended Methodist and Episcopalian high schools…I’m accustomed to sedate! I can get down with Kirk Franklin, Mary Mary, and the effects of the Holy Ghost but this was too much.  To this day my stomach churns when I think about it.  The behaviour of that preacher and the behaviour that he encouraged in children was just vulgar.  So, no church during college.  Once Daddy tried to encourage me to go to church one Sunday (I don’t know why, he doesn’t attend church) and we had a bit of an argument because I said no.  I mean, I was prepared to walk out and find elsewhere to live if he dared to force me and I think he knew it…I was not having it.

Shortly before I moved from New York I went through a really bad breakup and — surprise — found that prayer was the single most helpful thing I could do for myself.  I wasn’t ready to go to church and testify or be baptized but it was comforting to talk to God.  Each time I felt lighter.  I was perhaps influenced by my older sister who, at the time, was committing her life to God.  I attended church with her a few times the (Christian Cultural Center in Brooklyn) and though I didn’t mind the message the atmosphere of the place turned me off.  The sight of lines to enter a church (well, this isn’t so bad maybe) and people being turned away because there’s no space, a coffee shop, (I believe) an ATM, ushers who rigidly direct your seating, and a boom mic descending from the rafters to capture the sermon were disconcerting.  To put it mildly.  Was this a place of worship or a business or a show?  Seemed like the latter two to me, and it’s a pattern I’ve seen repeated with other “mega churches.”  And then there was my nephew’s Christening — a big deal for most (I think) Jamaican households — when he was shuffled up there with parent and Godparents and every other child being Christened and some random prayer was said.  Not even likkle water sprinkle pon di bwoy head.   Yeah it’s the 21st century and all but ahhm!  Too weird for me…perhaps this is where I expected a line so that each child and his/her family could be prayed over and blessed.  Too much to ask?

I felt wary and somehow as if I had to protect myself from (some of) this contemporary form of fellowship and from how the Message is being delivered.  Just didn’t and doesn’t sit right in my spirit.  I don’t want to be around people who claim to have faith and to love yet who condemn others because they do not have the same or any faith.  I don’t want a church that requires a woman to cover up as if she is a disease…but I also don’t want a church where the women look so elaborately made up that I wonder if it’s church or a fashion show, nor do I want to attend a church with a boom mic and in which everything seems too carefully choreographed.  Where the minister’s wife is the First Lady and not simply, the minister’s wife.  For what?    Why the roles and status and hierarchy and the show?  I feel like these are the very places where Jesus would walk into and overturn everything and drive people out, so disgusted He would be (Matthew 21: 12-13).

Altogether this makes me wary of religion, Christianity of the Protestant kind to be exact because that’s my history (I have issues with the Catholic Church too but that’s for another time).  I’ve flirted with Buddhism (which I admire), atheism, and agnosticism.  But I’m still stuck on Jesus…don’t think I’d call myself a Christian but I’m working on it…sometimes…when I’m not wary or so angry at suffering and wondering how and why…

Lately, however, I find myself searching for the fellowship of a church…but I am still wary.  Haven’t found the “right” church yet.  I’m also picky.  I did attend church for New Year’s Eve though.  A party was just not of interest to me and I didn’t feel like staying home with the family so decided on church.  It was good, I’m glad I went.  It felt good to be there.  I also have very good friends who are Christians who inspire me to keep looking…I’d like to have the faith, grace, and peace that they (at least seem to) have.  Never have I felt less than in their presence.  They’re strong in their faith but don’t hit me over the head with it.  The way they live their lives, for me, is the strongest testimony of how God can and should work in your life.

I struggle too with the messengers in many of these contemporary churches.  For example, I like Joyce Meyer but sometimes when the camera pans to the huge auditorium full of people and when the message comes on at the end for how one can purchase her book or a collection of CDs, I cringe and sigh.  It unsettles me.  I look at other mega church and popular preachers like Joel Osteen and my spirit just doan tek to dem.  No siree!  Maybe I am being too judgmental but I think I should feel as if I can trust the people who are supposed to help guide my spiritual growth.  I don’t feel that.  That’s why, I think, I can identify with this video…I’m still absorbing it but I understand why he could feel the need to draw a line between religion and Jesus.  Yes, Jesus is a central figure in a religion but don’t miss the point…I think he means religion (at least) to be the interpretation that churches and church leaders have of the teachings of the Bible.  The structures, the preening, the manipulation, the misguided (I think) influence and attention.  All of it just doesn’t seem to jive with what’s actually in there.

Interested to hear your thoughts on this video or your own faith, beliefs…believers and non-believers welcome…

Happy New Year!  Whether you do the resolutions thing or not, hope that you achieve your goals for 2012.

WordPress does this nifty thing where it sends a year-end summary for your blog.   Now that I’ve been with them for a full year, I finally got my own summary.  It’s really quite useful for deciding how to blog in the future – times and topics specifically.   I posted 48 times, which is about 4 per month but I know that some months were leaner than others.  One of my firm goals in 2012 is to be more consistent…which means putting myself on a manageable schedule for writing…this improved writing schedule will likely also involve the use of a yet-to-be determined Apple product (listen, I can’t hold out much longer!).

Thanks for reading my blog (most of you are from the U.S. but quite a few are from Jamaica and Canada too).  Thanks for sharing it with others.  Thanks for the comments.  Thanks for the feedback.   Keep reading, sharing, commenting…I appreciate it!

Most Viewed Posts

Guest Post | From the Mouth of a Matie May) – This post came to me by way of @mamchell (note: by way of, not by her!) and I’m not surprised that it was most popular.  As a friend likes to say: man and woman story always gets people chatting.  In this post, a confessed former matie (mistress for you non-Jamaican folk) candidly expresses her views and shares her experiences.  For reasons that I should not have to explain she requested to post anonymously, though folks later told me that they guessed who she is.

A Brief Note on Benz Punany/Punani (January) – The genesis for this post lies in some twitter banter I had with 2 friends that I made on twitter.  Yes, we’re still friends…and I hope that we’ll remain that way for years to come.  They are good men but they know how to push my buttons (and I let my buttons be pushed…sometimes) + they love to play devil’s advocate.  Most of all they’re honest about their views. As folks who follow me on Twitter may know or realize, there are just some things I take seriously and this topic was one of them so I was compelled to blog.  I laugh about it now…but I still hold fast to the views expressed.

Tragedy in Pictures (April) – Every so often world events that ostensibly have no connection to life to the countries where I either have lived or live now make a profound mark on me.  The events in North Africa and the Middle East that began in late 2010 and are still going on is an example of that.  This post was sparked by the death of 2 acclaimed photojournalists – those people who often share with us the horrors we can’t even imagine.  Meanwhile, events continue to unfold in Libya, Bahrain, Yemen, Iran, Iraq, and of course Egypt and Syria.  For now, Tunisia where it all began is calm; they’ve had elections and a democratically elected government…so far, so good for them and I hope it continues and is the norm for its neighbours.  Democracy may not be perfect but I believe it’s the best system of government that we have…gotta work with it!

Last Week’s News: A Year Later – Tivoli Gardens, Jamaica (May) – *sigh* Do I really need to explain?

My Jury Duty Experience – Day 1 (April) – The name says it all.  A really good experience, though.  Good to know that Maryland had an efficient system of criminal justice.

My Favourites…

Whenever I write it’s like a piece of me on display (ironically this explains why there are times I cannot write and the blog isn’t updated…).  So each post means a great deal to me but some posts – because of their content or subject matter – stand out.  Here are my favourites for 2011

All Shall Be Well (April) – Title taken from a Buju tune (O, Buju).  My day started out craptastically (yes, that’s my own word and I like it) but I hit the reset button?  Why? Because attitude is everything + I’m tired of letting too many external influences affect me so much.  Too many times it’s not worth it…and stress will kill yuh! So, all shall be well.

Remember Rwanda (April) – Learning about the 1994 Rwandan Genocide changed my life.  I never forget its “anniversary.”

Dancehall, Ah Wha Gwaan? (May) – Dancehall is near and dear to my heart.  Its current state is disheartening, to put it mildly.  More to come on this topic, working with my good friend @DjAutograph.

Somebody’s Grandma (June) – Because I got to use one of my favourite pictures of me and my Grandma.  Plus, I shared one of my favourite commuting activities: people watching and story spinning .

October Series on Breast Cancer – Four posts, featuring 3 guests posts offering information and perspective on breast cancer…useful for mend and women.  I’m particularly proud of this series

Celebrate Jamaica: A Chat With the Juicy Chef, Jacqui Sinclair (October) – Jacqui is a lovely woman.  I hadn’t interviewed anyone in a while.  I felt something shift in me as she and I chatted, and again later as I wrote.  Proud of this, especially since it showcases really good things happening in Jamaica.

My Grandpa Speaks (November) – Well, I always talk about Grandma so it was nice for Grandpa to get some shine.

Make your 2012 the best it can be…thanks again for reading!

Are our voices under siege now too?

But this time I began to wonder…where are the songs about the 2010 Tivoli Massacre?  An entire week of bloodletting yet nothing’s come out of Jamaica’s prolific music establishment? Nothing from our Reggae stalwarts or up-and-comers?  The silence seems so opposite of our musical  and cultural traditions that I’m surprised I haven’t noticed this before.  This may be ironic but it’s times like these that I miss Buju the most.  Mourn the death of Garnett Silk.  And bemoan the disappearance of Sizzla.  Please, if I’m missing the song or songs please let me know.  If i’m missing the dub poetry let me know.  I fear that this isn’t one of the times when I’m simply out of the loop…and I’m filled with a despair I can’t fully grasp because 73 lives + the lives of the living left behind to cope seem to mean nothing.  Almost a year and half and nothing is being said by either the ruling Government of Jamaica or the Opposition.  Yet, we’ve had inquiry into the Manatt Mendacity.  Then again, it was not until 2010 — 38 years later and after 12 years of investigation — that the Saville Inquiry into Bloody Sunday was made public and an apology issued by the UK Government to the people, victims, and families of unarmed who were killed.  Now there is talk of compensation and other payouts to victims and victims’ families.  There is talk about possible legal action – criminal or military court, I believe – against the soldiers who acted on that day.

I don’t know if “no angels” died in Tivoli in May 2010 but my instinct tells me that there may have been more than a few innocents who were murdered.  I don’t romanticize either Bloody Sunday or Tivoli but I cannot accept the deafening silence, gross inaction, lack of justice, and accountability.  The harm to Jamaica as we all continue on while nothing is done – and nothing concertedly demanded – is immeasurable, I think, and we may well reap the sorrows in ways we cannot even begin to imagine.  I also wonder what that entire week of mayhem did to the Jamaican army personnel.  What of their humanity?  What about society’s conscience?

Is it that these Northern Irish deserve this long-awaited and overdue justice? After all they fought for freedom – they were marching in Derry on Sunday, January 30, 1972 for what they believe in.  Their struggle was not always a peaceful one: they threw stones at the soldiers who were manning the march route and some of these soldiers fired back and later claimed that there was gunfire coming from the crowd and of course there was the IRA vs Ulster supporters et al.  Yet the Northern Irish – on all sides of The Troubles – demanded action and justice…they fought, they stood up for their rights.  Sound familiar? Where is the fight for Jamaica? The marches? For Tivoli? For all who live in the 3 counties, 14 parishes, and 63 constituents? The persistent and clear demands for transparency and action that is in the best interest of Jamaica? How come we’re only willing to stand in line for a club or party or show or football match…or even to cast a vote but won’t do the other things that are necessary to maintain our democracy.  We – not just Jamaican voters – seem to forget that on election day we HIRE people to best represent OUR interest.  They are our EMPLOYEES.  Hold them accountable from the day you cast your vote…

But I digress, which is usual for me.  I still want to know where the songs about Tivoli are…can anyone tell me?

1967 - 2011

Those were the last words tweeted by Heavy D, a popular rapper who was key to bringing Dancehall and Reggae music to mainstream America in the ’90s.  I was shocked to hear of his sudden death.  True, I wasn’t a fan but I do remember seeing him all over my TV when I was younger and, of course, randomly busting out with “dem nuh worry weee eheeh eheeh.”  I liked him and his music.  Plus, he was just so young…just in his mid-40s.  I think that he had a lot more to give to “us,” but…he already gave so much.  His legacy is assured.  When the idea for this post first began percolating in my mind it was going to be a straightforward recap of Heavy D’s life with specific focus on his work for and with Dancehall and Reggae in the U.S.  When news of his death hit the Twitter streets a few people tweeted about this impact but in the days and weeks that followed, I didn’t see any kind of comprehensive piece about this impact so I wanted to fill that void.  He was born in Clarendon, Jamaica as Dwight Ayers and moved to New York to become Heavy D (an ode to his physique as the Big Belly Gorgan) but he never forgot his Jamaican roots.  He flew the flag high in his field.  Collaborations with him and Super Cat were very popular and he did work with the Jamaican genres on his own.  In fact his 2008 album Vibes was nominated for a Grammy for Best Reggae Album.  I reached out to @MsRaine (journalist, PR maven, lover of Jamaican music and old school Hip Hop, among other things) for her comments on Heavy D

Heavy D was a pioneer for Jamaicans in Hip Hop music. Heavy D and KRS One were among the first artists to incorporate Dancehall into Hip Hop music, using Dancehall riddims and slang in their songs in the mid 1980s and early 1990s, bringing Dancehall to a whole new audience of young Black, White and Latino-American Hip Hop fans.  Heavy D was a mentor to people like Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs, and his influence was obvious when Diddy scored one of his early hits by pairing Supercat with his then up and coming artists Mary J Blige and Notorious B.I.G. on the “Dolly My Baby” remix.  Heavy D’s success with Dancehall and Reggae influenced music opened a door for hardcore Dancehall acts like Supercat, Shabba Ranks, and Bounty Killer to gain a significant following among Hip Hop fans, and for Hip Hop artists like Busta Rhymes, and  Notorious B.I.G., to embrace their Jamaican roots musically.

In other words: a big, meaningful, and lasting impact.   My friend DJ Autograph echoed her sentiments

In the early ’90s Heavy & Shinehead  were the two acts that were instrumental to [D]ancehall crossing over into the mainstream [U.S. culture].  Heavy’s collaboration with Supercat on 1992′s “Dem Nuh Worry We” coupled with the single Ghetto Red Hot helped to propel Supercat into mainstream success.  He also had singles with Buju Banton (“Hotness“) and Supercat and Frankie Paul (“Big & Broad“)…His combo with Supercat opened the doors for other [Hip Hop] acts to fuse dancehall into their songs (Think KRS1, Smif-n-Wessun etc..).

He was the first act on Uptown Records.  Andre Harrell was working at Def Jam when he got Heavy’s demo.  Heavy was the one who convinced Andre to hire Puffy as an intern and remember Puffy worked extensively with Mary J. Blige on  What’s The 411? so in a way if he hadn’t convinced Andre to hire Puffy there may not have been any Bad Boy Records and  What’s the 411? may not have been the classic album it turned out to be.

He influenced not only Dancehall’s impact and reach but also the careers of folks who have become Hip Hop and R&B heavyweights.

Soon I will write that post.  Now, in this moment, I can’t help but be moved by that simple two word command – Be inspired! – so that’s the post I will write today.  I know I’m not the only one to be struck by his last tweet but for me, as I settle into this job, I’m sometimes struggling to keep an eye on the goals I had when I signed up for law school.  The visions and dreams that I have for my own life.  Sometimes I struggle not be complacent, not to get too comfortable – with the ease of the work, the regular paycheck, the comfort of your office…whatever it is.  Oddly, I was talking to my brother today and he basically said the same thing about his job (that he’s had for a little over a year): he’s trying to keep learning and not to get too comfortable or to become complacent.  I’ve discovered that this can be ridiculously hard if you’re in the wrong work environment.  And by that I mean the environment that’s not for you, not about the people with whom you work or the necessity or utility of the work that you do.  My dreams and goals are too big for me to slip into complacency.  I cannot afford it.  As Mad Eye would say, “Constant vigilance!”

What's your inspiration?

Be Inspired.  Bold, simple but not easy.

If you’ve lost a grip on those things then regain it.  Seek out new inspirations too.  Don’t be stagnant…that’s boring and just dangerous for your personal growth.  Try to learn something new everyday…doesn’t have to be any complex idea either.  Read memoirs and autobiographies about the folks who inspire you.  (Biographies too but I think it’s better to read about their lives in their own voices.)  This will remind you that they are human too and had to overcome obstacles.  No memoirs? Then read their interviews.  Try to understand how they think and plan and what they have done and then consider if those things can be adapted (read: not copied thoughtlessly) to your own life.  No one who is successful came by that success easily or without some sacrifice.  It requires work and, yes, sometimes failure.  Listen, just read: expose your mind and little bubble to new things.  And don’t be afraid to seek inspiration close to home.  Lately I’ve truly come to appreciate the hard work and accomplishment of my friends Shar and Jhan.  These ladies are accomplished professionals who do so much in 24 hours I wonder when they have time to sleep.  And they’re not finished.  Neither of them has yet reached 30 years old.  They inspire me.  When I feel like complaining I try to remember them to remind myself that I can do better and that I have done well, and I keep going.

Write down your goals, plan for how you’re going to achieve them.  Talk about them – sometimes – with people whom you trust and who have your best interests in mind so that they can be true sounding boards.  Pray about your goals.  Don’t be afraid to hear “NO” or “Is that really best for you?”  Harsh of course but maybe that’s something that you need to hear.  Maybe it is what you need to refocus your goals or to seek new inspiration…or maybe it is what you need to reexamine your inspiration.

Something else too: know your history.  Family, country, community…know your history.  It will ground you and provide well-needed perspective.

Remaining and being inspired is not a passive endeavor.  Seek.  Spend some meaningful time on this.  It’s an investment in yourself – present and future.

Filed under: dancehall, life, musings, reggae ]]> https://cucumberjuice.wordpress.com/2011/12/06/be-inspired/feed/ 1 heavy d 5 cucumberjuice Heavy D be inspired tweet https://cucumberjuice.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/do-you-know-your-status/ https://cucumberjuice.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/do-you-know-your-status/#comments Thu, 01 Dec 2011 01:10:49 +0000 cucumberjuice http://cucumberjuice.wordpress.com/?p=1775 Read more]]> I am HIV-negative.  I know this because I get tested every year with no exceptions.  So, do you know your status?

Get 

Tested

It’s been 30 years since the first AIDS case was identified.  There are 34 million people on this planet with HIV/AIDS, 2 million die each year.  There is no cure.  I blogged about it a few of months ago along with the basics – what is HIV/AIDS anyway?

Get 

Tested

Tomorrow – even today and maybe the day after – there will be much said about HIV/AIDS education and awareness – December 1 is World AIDS Day, the 23rd such day.  The little red ribbon is about awareness.  But remember that you should be aware and careful whenever necessary and possible — not just today, tomorrow, or the day after but always.  If you’re living in the Caribbean, know that you live in the region of the world with the second highest HIV infection rate…second only to sub-Saharan Africa.  The Caribbean Broadcast Media Partnership on HIV/AIDS – Live Up has a great website with information on HIV/AIDS in the Caribbean, including island-specific resources (click here for those resources).  If you’re a black American living in America, know that the infection rate in the United States is highest among your population.  Check out Planned Parenthood or the National HIV and STD Testing Resource to get information + find a testing center near you.  Whether you’re gay or straight you can get HIV/AIDS.  If you’re having unprotected or high-risk sex or both, or sharing needles, know that you are at risk for contracting HIV.

Get 

Tested

You cannot tell that someone is HIV-positive or has AIDS by looking.  ««This is said often yet it merits repeating…some people just don’t get it.

Get 

Tested

If you’re thinking of sleeping with someone ask about their sexual history — no, not how many people he or she has slept with, but whether they had or have any STIs or STDs, when was their last check up, do they practice safe sex.  Use a condom.  Even in monogamous relationships it is possible to contract HIV, which can develop into AIDS.  How?  Because while you may be faithful, your partner may not be.  Get tested together.  Yes, both of you get tested.  The other day I saw on twitter timeline someone expressing sadness (maybe even disbelief) about a friend’s situation: friend had apparently been with her boyfriend since early teens and found out more than a decade later that she is HIV-positive.  That is beyond sad…it is angering…it is shocking.  Take control of your health.  Don’t gamble with your life.  Especially you ladies: do not gamble.

Get 

Tested

Testing is easy.  You will likely only need to provide a saliva sample…a quick swab of your inner cheek.  It is quick.  It is confidential.  Someone who discloses your HIV status (or other medical information) can likely be criminally charged.  Don’t be deterred by shame…it’s more important to know about your health.

Get 

Tested

A sign in a village...they say it's somewhere in Africa but it applies everywhere...

At graduation last year.

About 6 years ago Grandpa had surgery that left him unable to speak without covering the hole in his throat.  His voice box had been removed…cancer strikes again.  Now, he doesn’t speak nearly as often though so when he makes the effort, I pay attention because I know that it is important.  I cherish the phone calls, voice mails, and birthday greetings.  Prostate cancer struck a few years after he had this surgery but he had radiation therapy and the cancer is in remission…he still complains about pains in his hip though.  But he’s alive and doing well for 82, guaranteed to still snooze in the settee in front of the TV.

A few years ago while I was visiting Jamaica, Grandpa just opened up about some of his time in England.  I think he spoke for about an hour (with breaks to gather himself and ease the strain on his throat).  In my 29 years this is the only time that Grandpa has voluntarily or otherwise spoken about living in England.  Grandma would mention living in England from time to time and my mother (very fondly, she wanted to stay) and uncle did as well, but Grandpa never spoke about England except to refer to coming to back to Jamaica from England.  He brought the family back to Jamaica in the mid-1970s, presumably to now contribute to the country that he had left years before.  And he did contribute to Jamaica.   To my knowledge he has never returned to England; the rest of the family has, however.  I wonder if Mr. Starkey could explain that…

When Grandpa decided to talk and tell some of the story of when he moved to England and the adjustments that he had to make, I listened and made some notes afterward.  All of the grandchildren – 5 girls, worries – were present.  I did not want to forget.  I thought about his story after I blogged about that man David Starkey.  I know that my Grandpa didn’t intrude upon anyone’s country…he may not be perfect but, quite simply, he went to a place to make a better life for himself and for the family he and Grandma were beginning to raise.  He endured cold, taunting, low wages…and earned enough to have the means to do his own business.  And enough to return home to his country to continue working, and to build his own successful business.  He left school before he was a teenager, I believe, but he more than “made something of himself.”  We were and are not rich but there was nothing that we needed that we did not get.  My Grandpa worked hard, Mr. Starkey.  If anything, it is you and your people who intruded upon us….you know, that whole empire and colonialism thing.  O, and that racisim thing too…

Grandpa told us that he and Grandma travelled by sea to England.  They stopped in Haiti (probably Port-au-Prince, he did not specify) and Lisbon, Portugal.  Grandpa told us that he is not fond of sea travel so he kept his behind on the ship, but Grandma disembarked in both places.  Imagine, my Grandma had been to Haiti and Portugal.  It was in Portugal that she bought a small woven basket with a bright pink flower on top…that basket held all her hand sewing and crochet things.  I know the basket well; we still have it.  I did not know where she bought it…and I never thought to ask.  I first learned about Portugal from a Nancy Drew book.  So I’m glad that my Grandpa spoke.

With the youngest grandchildren at his 75th Birthday celebration.

When they first arrived in England, they stayed with family.  Grandma got work immediately but Grandpa – a black man in England in the 1960s, heh – found the going a little rougher.  Grandma found work in a factory making airplane motors, 5 days per week.  After 2 weeks Grandpa was disheartened – here he was willing and able to work and coming from a place where he had already worked for much of his life yet he was now in a place where he couldn’t find work, sometimes because he was black.  Where he eventually endured taunts of “Blackbird, blackbird go back to where you come from…“

After 3 weeks and being chased by geese while he walked around looking for work, he was about to give up and, perhaps, go back home…but he found work in a lumber yard: 24 shillings of which 4 shillings was tax.  My Grandpa spoke about these details very clearly.  Soon he got an introduction to a machine yard where he worked on Sundays sweeping.  Soon he was working 7 days in a foundry (I think this was the same place that Grandma worked)…and at one point had to “lay down the law with the foreman” who was less than respectful toward Grandma.  I am glad to know that he was not cowed by the oppressiveness of 1960s Jolly Ol’ England.

Oddly, my Grandpa spoke about how he realized that good handwriting was important.  Don’t know why.  But I do remember Grandma telling me offhand a few times that her white coworkers often remarked on her penmanship and good diction…they couldn’t believe that someone “like her” had such command of these skills…

Maybe this is why I haven’t been able finish “Small Island” by Andrea Levy…it stirs up too much in me to read it…

Grandpa and Me, rolling in Bluebird (the Cortina)

My Grandpa spoke about eventually applying to the bus corporation to drive those historic red double-decker buses.  Nine months later he passed that test and, at first, worked as a conductor to learn the routes.  Then it was on to driving school to learn how to drive the trolley and the double-deckers.  He drove buses for 10 years…but the hours were long, sometimes 18 hours each day of the week.  He did not get a chance to spend time with his family, which now included my mother (who’d moved to England from Jamaica) and my uncle (who was born in England).  By now too the family had settled into its own home, after moving 6 times.  My Grandpa spoke about leaving the bus corporation and buying his own truck and beginning a haulage business.  My Grandpa proudly spoke about dropping his wife, Grandma, and his children off on the way to work.  This was his first real foray into entrepreneurship I believe.  And I know the truck well – a red and blue Ford that he shipped home to Jamaica (along with the Cortina) when they moved back in the mid-1970s.  That truck was the foundation for his work at Seprod and for the business that he later began with a friend (side note: don’t start businesses with your friends…or know them really well).  I looked & listened out for the truck every evening and sometimes directed his reversing into the parking spot outside the house that they bought upon return to Jamaica…riding in that truck was fun, jiggly and hot but it was fun to be up there, driving around with Grandpa.  

Even though his voice is damaged and strained when he talks and he doesn’t talk as much, it makes me really happy to hear when Grandpa speaks.  His eyes still twinkle when he’s up to mischief.  I try not to waste time kicking myself over the questions I was not bold enough to ask when he could speak more freely and when Grandma was alive…I am simply glad when he speaks now and the memories that I have and the new ones that we are creating.

So, as I read about and listened to David Starkey, I thought that, perhaps, he needed to hear my Grandpa speak.

With all the chatter about Occupying [Place X] (aka the American Autumn…a dumb name if ever) being a useless joke that isn’t having much effect, the wondering about the next phase of the Arab Spring (this is better and more apt), and watching a Greek tragedy unfold and threaten a 60-year strong unification the central recurring questions seem to me: Do we need to change things? How do we change things? What is a revolution? What is the new normal? What does freedom look like? Who’s in charge? Who will lead? Who will sacrifice? What can I do? Can I make it until tomorrow?  Something’s gotta give, right? Is Herman Cain for real? What the hell is going on?  The Crown Prince’s “Revolution” just seems apt…

Folks are just plain frustrated…so much pressure, so much burden.  Why Bounty? As it was when this song was first came out I find it to be a fantastically powerful sermon on how things are for many and how they could be for so many more…choices and circumstances.  Eleven years later it’s as if this was written and released yesterday.  (Quite by coincidence, I found a the video features clips from City of God, Tsotsi, Shottas, Life and Debt, and Roll Deep Badman  set to “Look.”)

The laxness of the Penn State officials in 2002 likely gave an alleged pedophile 9 1/2 more years to do God knows what to other children.  And you know, even if they had no duty their actions toward Mr. Sandusky after receiving this report — banning him from the Penn State facilities, allegedly telling him that he’d never be head coach when he was thought to be “next in line” — betray a certain amount of willful blindness to me and makes them complicit in the abuse.  Maybe not legally but definitely morally.  At first Penn State was defensive, standing behind its Athletic Director and Senior VP…those men have now resigned and are facing charges, including perjury.  (Yeah so not only did they fail to report but they apparently lied to the Grand Jury…smart.)  When Penn State issued that statement of support one of the alleged victim’s mother asked who was standing by her son.  (And I focus on the officials here but I wonder, too, about the grad student and some janitors who saw things but feared losing their jobs….)

Among these complicit officials is well-loved and respected coach Joe Paterno.  I’m not a college football fan but I know this name and I know his reputation.  Currently, he’s not a target of the Pennsylvania Attorney General’s investigation but I have to wonder: for a coach who is known as much for his winning record as much as for his integrity and the clean way in which he ran Penn State’s football program, how is it that in a moment when integrity, courage and forthrightness were required he remained silent? And how can he now hide behind “doing what he had to do” (i.e. reporting the incident up the chain) and nothing else?  No, Mr. Paterno, you should have done what you must: call the police and have them investigate.  As far as I’m concerned, where children’s welfare is concerned we are obliged to exercise a high level of care and attention.  No child asks to be brought into this world; we bring them here.  That’s a serious responsbility.

All of this reminds me that abuse is about power.  It’s not about the sex or any pleasure…it’s about power.  Because of this, I’ve never been able to understand how people blame abuse or rape victims.

I’ve also never been able to understand how it is that people mistreat the young and the elderly.  As I read about and mulled over this Penn State Nightmare, my mind wandered back to a report in The Jamaica Gleaner about conditions and treatment at The Golden-Age home.  Treatment like

Many of the elderly residents are subjected to a mass bathing ritual each morning – stripped, lathered, and then sprayed with water from a hose. After the co-ed bathing exercise, the male and female residents are forced to walk back to their dorms stark naked.

Eh? Even if you’re not trained to take care of old or disable people, that sounds like acceptable behaviour to you?  It reminds me of what the Nazis did to concentration camp prisoners.  Yes, I went there.  In April as now I am sickened by the report…the video that accompanied the articles is heartbreaking (to put it mildly).

The report came out while Jamaica was gripped and being bamboozled by the mendacity that was Manatt.  Seven months later I haven’t seen any follow up about it.  The residents of The Golden-Age Home have no advocate in court or otherwise, it seems.  What’s become and becoming of them?  So, just a few questions…

What’s been the outcome of the investigation and report completed at the direction of by then Minister of State for Local Government Minister Robert Montague? What happened to the staff that rode a resident like a donkey? Have conditions at The Golden-Age Home been addressed? Improved?  The contract with the administrator was not renewed so who got the new contract? Who’s monitoring? What standards are expected? Elections are nigh in Jamaica, is the treatment of members of this constituency a matter being addressed by the Member of Parliament (Maxine Henry Wilson, St. Andrew South East)? Julian Robinson, what do you have to say?  At the time of the Gleaner report the PNP expressed its disgust *yawn* and the JLP said that the conditions were not up to standard *snort*.  And what?  Oddly, a week after the Gleaner ran its expose, The Jamaica Observer published a glowing review The Golden-Age Home that was (and likely still is) in stark contrast to the actual conditions.  Ironic since the The Golden-Age Home was created after Eventide burned down killing 153 people…and the article suggests that things have come a long way since the Eventide tragedy…right.

Old people and children are the most vulnerable members of any society.  I’ve always said and believed this.  Therefore, I think, they require our special care and attention.  Young people, children need as much help, guidance, and protection as possible.  They’re just learning the runnings. Yes yes there’s great value in learning from experience but that does not excuse an adult from ignoring the welfare of a child.  Old people may be on their way out of this world and regardless of whether they’ve made some stunning contribution to humanity, they deserve to be treated with respect.  They are old but they do not lack dignity.  To my mind, how a society treats its young and its old is a direct reflection of the health of that society.  Right now, the reflection illuminated on these two incidents is  a dirty one…unpleasant…disgraceful…sad…dangerous…and is in need of desperate attention.

Why?

Update - November 11, 2011
On Wednesday, November 10, 2010 at about 10 PM Coach Joe Paterno and university President Graham Spanier were fired by Penn State’s Board of Trustees.  Paterno was ignoiminously fired over the phone (and to be clear, while I think Paterno ultimately had to go, the Board could have at least spoken to him face to face…61 years of service though now blemished STILL counts for something & should be respected).  The then-graduate assistant now wide receivers coach Mike McQueary is still on staff.  I believe that he will be testifying against Mr. Sandusky.  I still wonder why he too didn’t do more that night in 2002.  After the announcement of the firings, many Penn State students rioted in support of Paterno — overturning vehicles, breaking things, being hooligans — and gathered outside Paterno’s home. it is clear that they love and adore this man.  I understand that there are many mixed emotions for Penn State diehards but I don’t mind Penn State cleaning house.  They should have acted a long time ago.  But it’s not only Penn State officials that should or can be ‘blamed.’  After reading the Grand Jury report I realize that many many people saw things, incidents, behaviour from and related to Mr. Sandusky and the young boys he mentored.  The grooming that a pedophile does, that we all know if even from a TV show was clear — gifts, special treatment, controlling the mentor-mentee relationship, being clingy.  A wrestling coach here, a parent there, a janitor in the midst of it all saw things that they could have taken more seriously.  Things that should have been reported.  Since 1998 at least folks apparently saw things that should have been addressed including Sandusky taking showers with boys; there was even an investigation into Sandusky then but the District Attorney at the time decided not to act on the results…prosecutorial discretion, a part of the U.S. legal system.  Hindsight is 20/20 indeed but it seems that alarm bells rang for some.  Apparently even in 2007 Mr. Sandusky was seen on campus in the company of young boys.  This after he was banned after the alleged 2002 rape was witnessed and reported.  Just a word: If something rings a bell for you, take a closer look…don’t dismiss it.  And for God’s sake if you see a child being improperly touched report it.  Don’t be hypersenstitive but be vigilant and attentive where our children are concerned. 

As more of this has unfolded and more is written about it I have two observations.  One is related to something I alluded to in my original post: that abuse and rape are about power.  To be honest it is not surprising that this 2002 incident received scant attention and was not even reported to the CAMPUS police.  All across this country, rapes occur on college campuses.  Many are not reported.  Some that are reported do not make it to the local police’s crime desk.  Instead, they are dealt with through the college’s or university’s disciplinary system.  How this is OK I cannot understand.  Yes, rape, sexual assault, and abuse often involve alcohol or young people, but they also usually involve someone the victim knows.  Matt Millen’s befuddlement about this Penn State tragedy is even more pointed when he is asked to describe what Mr. Sandusky is like…he keeps saying that he’s the guy next door, the one who helps out, the one you can trust.  Yes, the molester or abuser often lives next door or is a family member.  These cases on college and university campuses are difficult to prosecute and prove because of they often involve alcohol and young people but also sometimes because the eye witness – the victim – is deemed unreliable.  Sometimes the victim IS unreliable.  Often her (yes, usually rape victims are female) past is brought up as a way to discredit her version of events.   These kinds of cases are also difficult because victims are often afraid — because of the shame and because of the fear and shock that come with knowing their abuser.  But these difficult factors do not mean that incidents of rape, sexual assault, and abuse shouldn’t be vigorously investigated and appropriate action taken. This culture on campuses across the U.S. of keeping things “in house” or “sweeping things under the rug” is NOT unique to Penn State.  Make no mistake about that.  And I shudder to even think what it’s like in Jamaica and the rest of the Caribbean, where these kinds of cases seem to get such inadequate attention from the community and seemingly little justice from the legal system. 

The second observation was piqued by a NYT article that drew a parallel between the power structure of a powerful football program and the Catholic Church.  There is a certain amount of arrogance that comes with power and powerful people.  It seems that no where is it on clear display than when we have these kinds of cases to contend with.  The abuse ‘scandal’ that still plagues the Catholic Church is still something I cannot wrap my mind around.  Generations of young men were forever affected by the action of parish priests and the inaction and complicity of the priests’ superiors.  Maybe even shocked and disbelieving and devout parents.  Here again — with a renowned and successful football program — we have a formidable power structure apparently protecting an abuser.  Why?

While we hand out blame — and there is quite a bit to go around — it is also clear to me that our societies must also share some blame.  Remember, when pointing the finger there are 3 pointing back at YOU.  It is not just the people who know or should have known and who do not act (adequately) that are at fault.   We — society — also create an atmosphere where abuse, assault, and rape are tolerated, where it is not talked about.  We literally do not use the words.  Like in this incident a 10 year old boy was allegedly raped, sodomized, by a grown man.  We instead say the “shower incident” and Penn State officials allegedly reduced it to “horseplay” and “something of a sexual nature.”  Here too is a presidential candidate accused by (to date) 4 women of sexual harassment and still we dismiss the claims — for various reasons — as not credible or not a big deal…the claims are old, no longer a concern, women just are not being able to take a joke, men are just being men, the liberal media is crucifying a Republican candidate because he’s a black, why did so-and-so not report it earlier, but she accepted a cash settlement.  All this really is is excuses and an inability to fess up to our own role in creating a society where these crimes against a person’s body AND soul are shied away from.  We are embarrassed by the words and what it could mean for people we know to be shown to be abusers.   Sometimes in the back of our minds we blame the victims — Why did she go there with him? Why did she wear that? He should have known better than to let him touch him? Why didn’t he say something?  Well, if a victim came to you would you believe them? Why? Why not?

Which brings me to the victims of rape, abuse, and sexual assault — these alleged ones…and actual ones.  Future ones.  I cannot imagine what it must be like.  So, even in the furor over Penn State or whatever other ‘scandal’ will happen (because, sadly, there will be more) and as I and whomever else asks ‘WHY?’, remember where the real focus should be…