Just some notes from the Green Room of a popular day time talk show
One of the great gifts of these trips abroad is perspective. It is fascinating to sit in a waiting room for a popular daytime television show and hear how notable Jamaicans process American tragedies that effect them because they all have family in America.
But they also have kin in Canada and England where gun violence is not a weekly cuktural heart attack followed by soap opera level amnesia.
‘Cousins in America’ is a familiar phrase anywhere I travel, but few of us have still have cousins abroad in one particular country. We are unusual. We are a final destination. Our connection to the outside world end, and the world watches us like a Soap Opera, we are characters unaware of the 4th wall.
We are bad actors in a truly stirring drama called, As The World Burns.
One person noted how America regardless of violence and blatant racism, is still the place people aspire to be. For now. We are the still to be established, end of the earth. The propect of fortune, may be more promising than the retreat of individual freedoms. The man claimed Canada deports more Jamaicans than anybody, but at least they were cordial about it.
“We regret to inform you that you are no longer at liberty to remain in your adopted country of Canada. Our sincerest apologies, and best wishes in your repatriation to nation of Jamaica. Make the Akee be fresh and the Caribbean air warn and clean. Sincerely,
The government of Canada.”
I listened. I listened closely. I bit my tongue as to not spoil this candid moment. But It’s not always about us. Jamaica is also African as much as it is Americanized it’s secret ingredients and the vacuum of English speaking space, and our still almighty dollar.
At the flicker of this particular photo, Jamaicans weren’t watching Jamaican news coverage of senseless American violence. They were watching a long running Nigerian soap opera called Generations that many have watched their whole lives.
I believe it was Red Rose who noted it was time for Jamaica to produce its own melodramatic Soap. One of the pageant contestants added that it was hard for some Jamaicans to accept their African heritage, which in a Nigerian Soap made rather clear, as Europeans or the light skinneded were nowhere to be seen, other than the ever present beat of Western daytime drama.
It was the Days of Our Lives or Telemundo, but rich chocolate instead of the many shades of Anglo and Latin vanilla, presenting the whitest version of every character they can get away with. It was great to see an African country dominating a platform with its uninterrupted Blackness. It was unbleachable and unimpeachable Nigerian entertainment.
I wondered watching the Soap if the writers were more connected to the pulp plot lines of American soaps or Telenovelas, or if there was even any difference.
In December I hope to make it to Nigeria. All of Jamaica is just a hearty spoonful of the mega city that is Lagos.
But the influence of Kingston should never be underestimated. Kingston is Africa’s most Western shore. An Akon paradise on the rubble of a Taino kingdom, bearing the watermark of the British Empire even more so than Nigeria. For Nigeria was never truly conquered nor colonized.
Kingston deserves its own Soap Opera. I might actually tune in to such an exercise in the art of Uptown and unrealism. I will always take a Soap Opera over the train and car pile up that is reality television, where real people get hurt and sh_t upon. Imagine what would happen if the entire world was held hostage by Reality Television.
Salt fish and dumplings at bed time in Port Antonio. Where the locals go.
Wrote a song this morning. Port Antonio and the Sunny Side Hotel is a great little place to write. A nice slow pace, the sound of water in the bay tossing up against the beaches and patois fluttering like birds in the breeze.
This song has a potential to articulate the idea that we can’t save everyone, if we can’t save anyone.
As far as home, I soon come.
Lenni I-Music brought me up into the hills above Port Antonio, to the lands of the Rio Grande. His friend Carl took me for a ride on one of his bamboo boats.
Why aren’t we rocking bamboo boats? He said they can be made for as little as $15 US. They last about 7 months on the river.
No gators in these waters. Just peace of mind. This is the one of the best parts of Jamaica tourism forgot.
Port Antonio is the #1 place I want to send my friends, to see my friends. This is the part of Jamaica where the stars of old Hollywood would slide away and play.
The rise of Negril as a tourism destination made West Jamaica the place to party on its 7 miles of Sandy beach. It’s a pearl, but this where you find peace.
Lenni I is the guy.
Local youth marching band playing Stevie Wonder over African beats, drum line style.
Port Antonio, where the dogs post up with cats. Peaceful days here.
I stopped into the Port Antonio library and found a nice section featuring West Indian authors.
Cutting a Mento song tomorrow with my friends Joseph and Bull. They had me slide through this posh hotel gig at Goblin Hill and get the rich folks going by pretending to be a guest and sing with them and sing on some Bob Marley tunes 50’s style.
I got some free drinks. Good times.
We are cutting ‘Go Tell it To The Mystics’ my Mento song that we are going to have the Trench Town kids sing on.
That hustle though.
Let me be honest here. I ate some weed for the first time this whole trip. I have played it straight, sharp, and steady for almost three weeks. And it feels good to be this ripped. I feel you Rasta. But I had to be sharp. I was promoting a hit record in Kingston, Jamaica.
The sound system is playing the cheesiest 80’s RnB you can imagine. The club above us looks like it tricked out some Christmas lights.
This town Port Antonio, is so wonderfully sleepy, even when it’s popping.
“Girl I’m gonna miss you…” slips through space time as you here Milli Vannilli played unironically for the first time since elementary school.
Jamaica is like crashing weddings in a time machine.
Just some notes from the Green Room of a popular day time talk show
Salt fish and dumplings at bed time in Port Antonio. Where the locals go.
Lenni I-Music brought me up into the hills above Port Antonio, to the lands of the Rio Grande. His friend Carl took me for a ride on one of his bamboo boats.
Cutting a Mento song tomorrow with my friends Joseph and Bull. They had me slide through this posh hotel gig at Goblin Hill and get the rich folks going by pretending to be a guest and sing with them and sing on some Bob Marley tunes 50’s style.
