J. Rentes de Carvalho's 'Waar die andere God woont'

In een kringloopwinkel dichtbij waar ik woon in Amsterdam, trof ik een boek aan dat ik nog kende van mijn jeugd: ‘Waar die andere God woont’, geschreven door de in Nederland woonachtige Portugees José Rentes de Carvalho, eerst verschenen in 1972. Rentes de Carvalho is een schrijver, geboren en opgegroeid in Portugal. Dat boek bevatte zijn beschouwingen en ervaringen met Nederland en Nederlanders, sinds hij in Nederland kwam wonen in 1956, dus tot de vroege jaren 70 van verschijning.

Memory lane: in mijn tienerjaren, nog wonend in Nieuw-Vennep, had ik het boek ook al eens gelezen. Dat was in mijn meest nadrukkelijke “boekenwurm” periode, volgend op een “voetbal” periode. Natuurlijk heb ik het geprobeerd te combineren, maar dat lukte mij in de sociale contexten die ik aantrof moeilijk: al te belezen en intellectueel kon je in voetbalkringen niet zijn en toch “meedoen”. Die werelden lieten zich niet combineren.

Ik was toen al – als voetballer en als boekenwurm - een Reggae fan, dus las boeken uit de bibliotheek over muziek, het Caraïbisch gebied, maar ik had ook veel interesse voor Afrika, wereldwijde geografie en wereldgeschiedenis.

Ik spitste deze brede interesse waar passend later ook wel toe op mijn achtergrond. Ik had een Noord-Italiaanse vader en een Zuid-Spaanse moeder. We gingen regelmatig naar Italiaanse feesten – vooral in het nabije Haarlem, waar mijn ouders trouwden en eerst woonden - met ook Italianen uit andere delen, zoals Zuid-Italië, en waren ook bevriend met deze Italianen. Mijn moeder had vriendinnen uit andere delen van Spanje, alsmede uit verschillende Latijns-Amerikaanse landen. In Nieuw-Vennep en omgeving. Deze kwamen redelijk vrijelijk bij ons thuis, dus zo groeide ik op.

Vandaar dat een boek over een Portugese migrant in Nederland en zijn bevindingen iets van “herkenbaarheid” voor me had. Een buurland van Spanje, met volgens velen wat raakvlakken met Spanje, en daar vandaan migreerde iemand, net als mijn moeder en eerder mijn vader, naar Nederland. Ik wilde wel even lezen of wat hij ervoer een beetje lijkt op wat ik aantref, of op wat mijn ouders als wezenlijke verschillen tussen hun en de Nederlandse cultuur zagen.

ALS ZE ER NIET BIJ ZIJN

Wat voor Surinamers geldt, geldt ook voor andere migrantengroepen: als er geen Nederlanders bij zijn worden er, soms minachtende, grappen over Nederlanders en hun cultuur gemaakt. Het lijkt mij onzinnig om daar naïef of schijnheilig over te doen. Dat grensde inderdaad af en toe aan (omgekeerd) racisme, wat afhing – net als bij racisme in het algemeen – van het relatieve empathisch vermogen van iemand, de hoeveelheid haat in iemands hart en hoofd, of diens groepsdenken: de mens blijven zien en niet alleen diens afkomst of etniciteit. Hoe dan ook: er werden ook bij mij thuis grappen over de Nederlandse cultuur gemaakt die soms minachting of zelfs afkeer verraden, net zoals in Surinaamse, Marokkaanse, of Turkse gezinnen. Er waren immers toch geen Nederlanders bij.

Het was terugkijkend denk ik echter niet excessief qua haat. Ik merkte met name bij mijn moeder een beetje dat ze niemand – geen individu – alleen vanwege afkomst wilde ontmenselijken, wat een goede, mooie trek was, natuurlijk. Dit was mogelijk een reactie van haar op haar onderdrukking onder de Spaanse variant van het fascisme: de Franco-dictatuur, waaronder ze moest opgroeien en nare ervaringen had: vooral als praktisch rechteloze en laaggeschoolde arbeider. In Nederland had ze wat meer rechten, dus ze zag ook de goede kanten van Nederland. Ook mijn vader zag wel wat goede kanten van Nederlanders en Nederlanders, en had meer Nederlandse vrienden dan mijn moeder: hij sprak beter Nederlands.

Toch is dit besef denk ik goed. Minachting voor andere volkeren wordt onderhouden in gesprekken als de “ander” er niet bij is. Vooroordelen worden zo onderling versterkt, aangescherpt, en mogelijk zelfs haat gevoed. Dat geldt voor racistische Nederlanders onderling, alle witte, Europese racisten, maar ook voor anderen (migranten, mensen met een kleur) die dat botte racisme overnemen omdat dat nodig lijkt in deze samenleving. Helaas zit daar niet de macht aan vast die witte Nederlanders wel in hun eigen land hebben, maar even negatief is het al wel.

CULTUURVERSCHILLEN

Bevindingen over een andere cultuur hoeven echter niet altijd heel negatief te zijn, of zonder (zachtere) relativering of humor. Dat wist ik ook van thuis. Ik hoorde echter ontegenzeggelijk kritiek thuis, ook van mijn moeder: Nederlanders hebben saaie feesten waarop niemand danst en er alleen maar gepraat werd, hebben lauwe, losse familiebanden. De taal is lelijk, ze eten slecht en beperkt (eenvoudig bereide aardappelen bijvoorbeeld). De bekende Zuid-Europeze/Latino kritiek op die stijve, kille, niet-verfijnde Noord-Europeanen, zou ik bijna zeggen. De Protestantse geloofsbeleving werd ook weinig begrepen, hoewel mijn moeder ook kritisch was over de historische Katholieke corruptie en onderdrukking in haar land Spanje. Dat is Rentes de Carvalho ook wel, maar zegt desalniettemin over het Nederlandse Godsbeeld (die hij zowel bij katholieken als protestanten trof) en de geloofsbeleving, als somber, vreugdeloos. Hij zegt niets te begrijpen van “dit kille geloof vol zonde, schuld, en ontzeggingen” (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 93), en plaatst het onder meer tegenover het vrolijke zondagse uitje dat een kerkmis in Portugal was, met zelfs gangbaar geflirt tussen de geslachten.

Deels waren die kritische bevindingen ook wel waar, maar altijd subjectief: smaken verschillen, en culturen ook. Ik hou zelf van dansen en muziek, maar een goed gesprek op niveau op een feestje is af en toe ook wel fijn.

De Nederlandse eigen keuken – als die al bestaat – heeft mij inderdaad ook nooit weten te overtuigen, vind ik eveneens fantasieloos, maar biedt in ieder geval wat ruimte voor groente. Minder smakend of rijk dan andere keukens (zoals de Franse, Spaanse, en Italiaanse), maar nog steeds beter dan die fast-food rage, zoals die later opkwam (of overkwam uit de VS).

Rentes de Carvalho zegt hierover: “De Nederlander is nu eenmaal geen ‘gourmet’, geen fijnproever. Hij beschouwt alles wat aan eten wordt besteed en verder gaat dan een simpele maagvulling als verspilling, ‘zonde van het geld’” (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 62).

Dit boek is van 1972, net vóór mijn geboorte, en ik merk dat er bij de jongere generatie wel wat veranderd is. Met name hoger opgeleiden Nederlanders lijken zichzelf soms zelfs meer in de Italiaanse of Spaanse keuken verdiept te hebben dan ik, terwijl mijn voorouders olijf- en vijgengaarden bezaten.

HERKENNING TOEN EN NU

Rentes de Carvalho’s boek volgt dus een beetje deze zelfde bekende Zuid-Europeze kritische patronen omtrent het onbegrip met de Nederlandse cultuur, die ik eerder hoorde van mijn Spaanse en Italiaanse familie en familievrienden. Vandaar dus die “herkenning” bij mij. Rentes de Carvalho kwam in 1956 en dit boek verscheen eerst in 1972. Mijn moeder kwam zo’n 10 jaar later dan Rentes de Carvalho naar Nederland (rond 1966), mijn vader iets eerder, rond 1963. Ik ben geboren in 1974.

In ieder geval dus nabij en deels overlappend in tijd. Wat van het boek stond me nog bij, van toen ik het decennia geleden in mijn ouderlijk huis lag, maar toch herlas ik het recentelijk weer na mijn aanschaf (het kostte welgeteld een euro). Ik ben in die tussentijd (zo’n 30 jaar later!) ook veranderd en ben andere levensfasen in gegaan, verhuisd naar Amsterdam, dingen meegemaakt, “trials and tribulations”, persoonlijke aanvallen, decepties, gebroken harten, etcetera, etcetera.

Interessant is dat mijn mening over de Nederlandse cultuur niet zoveel veranderd lijkt. De verschillen met Zuid-Europa blijken niet slechts tijdsgebonden, maar vaak bijna tijdloos. Rentes de Carvalho noemt de vergadercultuur, de regelzucht in Nederland, de directe, onomslachtige manier van praten zonder versiering, en het meer algemene gebrek aan sier en gratie in de omgangsvormen. Hij noemde in het boek veel Nederlanders bot en onbeleefd. Elders bekritiseert hij de gelijkhebberigheid en morele superioriteitswaan van Nederland.

Inderdaad resulteert dat niet in een algemeen goed of positief beeld van deze Nederlanders. In verschillende min of meer thematische hoofdstukken bespreekt hij aspecten van de Nederlandse cultuur en wat dat zegt over het volk: keuken, gezin, vergadering, geloof, ontwikkelingshulp, Amsterdam, pers, en ook een tijdsbeeld vanaf 1968: de religieuze en seksuele revolutie.

Naast de kille, ongevoelige omgangsvormen – zoals in het openbare verkeer als het ergens druk is – noemt hij tussendoor ook wel vriendelijke Nederlanders en positieve eigenschappen, veeleer eigen aan een democratische samenleving. Zeker democratischer dan het Portugal onder de Rechtse, fascistische dictator Salazar (vriend van Franco), dat Rentes de Carvalho verliet.

Wat betreft de omgangsvormen en “manier van zijn” van Nederlanders (koud, bot, betuttelend) blijft de teneur overwegend negatief. Rentes de Carvalho geeft daarbij wel toe dat het zijn persoonlijke opvattingen zijn.

Zo zegt hij hierover: “Voorkomendheid in de omgang is hier (in Nederland) beslist geen alledaags verschijnsel. Het wordt beschouwd als zwakheid, het brengt risico’s met zich mee. Wie voorkomend is wordt opzij geschoven..” (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 70). Toe maar.

Verschillen met Zuid-Europa zijn er wat dat betreft, denk ik wel, hoewel mijn ouders me wel waarschuwden voor de oppervlakkigheid ervan. Bot wegduwen of in de weg staan – of beledigende grappen naar vreemden - zijn in Zuid-Europa minder geaccepteerd in het onderlinge verkeer dan in Nederland, dat wel, maar Rentes de Carvalho veralgemeniseert het als Nederlandse cultuurtrek, terwijl ik dat botte gedrag altijd persoonlijk en dus discriminerend opvatte ("doen ze niet bij een Nederlander of familielid"). De waarheid zal wel ergens in het midden liggen.

Dit boek dat ik pas kocht is een uitgave uit 1982, met een nawoord over de periode 1972 tot 1982 (tien jaar na de eerste uitgave). Mogelijk zat dat er ook al bij toen ik het boek de eerste keer las, ergens begin jaren 90, of was dat een andere uitgave, maar dat herinner ik me niet meer.

Rentes de Carvalho stelt in dat voor de druk van 1982 toegevoegde stuk, over Tien jaar veranderingen, dat hij en de Nederlanders elkaar nog steeds slecht begrijpen, ondanks sommige maatschappelijke veranderingen. Hij is er al die tijd blijven wonen, wat een keur aan persoonlijke redenen kan hebben die hij natuurlijk niet verplicht wereldkundig hoeft te maken. Dat mag hij zelf weten.

VERGELIJKINGEN

Wel ga ik weer vergelijken met mijn ouders, mijn tante, en anderen die het grootste deel van hun leven in Nederland doorbrachten en ook bezwaren bleven zien. Dat zegt iets diepers over migratie en aanpassing. Het zegt iets over migranten, maar naar mijn mening ook over de toegankelijkheid van een samenleving en cultuur.

Maar eerst over de kritiekpunten van Rentes de Carvalho over Nederlanders, vergeleken met wat ik hoorde van mijn familie en vrienden. Deels dezelfde kritiekpunten en irritaties, nogmaals dus die herkenning. Er was echter een nuance. Niet omdat het mijn moeder was, dat ik alles goed praat, - alle liefhebbende zonen eigen, haha - maar ik geloofde niet dat mijn moeder veel haat had of wilde hebben in haar hart. Minder althans dan andere mensen die ik tegen heb moeten komen in mijn leven.

Mijn moeder vertrouwde me toe dat ze alleen door gebrek aan kennis van het Nederlands zo weinig intieme Nederlandse vriend(inn)en had, en dus vooral Spaanstaligen en enkele Italianen en Portugezen. Ondanks haar grappen, zei ze dat ze op zichzelf niet veel had tegen de meeste Nederlanders. Ze had weliswaar wat slechte ervaringen met Nederlanders (seksueel opdringeringe mannen, discriminatie, pesterijen) maar zei geen hekel te hebben aan het hele Nederlandse volk. Of dat gemeend was of diplomatiek weet ik niet: dit zei ze tegen mijn broer en ik, geboren in Nederland, en mogelijk zag ze ons ook als Nederlanders, of in ieder geval vernederlandst. We praatten echter open genoeg, dus ik denk dat ze de Nederlanders wel degelijk een kans gaf.

Mijn vader sprak beter Nederlands, en had enkele Nederlandse, intieme vrienden.

Mijn ouders stelden zich in ieder geval – blijkt daaruit - open voor de variatie onder Nederlanders, en vielen gelukkig niet in de “omgekeerd racisme”-val waar andere migrantengroepen soms inliepen en inlopen. Ik ben leden van etnische minderheden in Amsterdam en elders tegen gekomen die (willekeurige!) Nederlanders – of blanken – als vieze beestjes die uit hun buurt moeten blijven behandelen, of deze treiteren.

Ik ben – eerlijk is eerlijk – ook meerdere Nederlanders tegen gekomen die mij als “buitenstaander” zo hard en racistisch behandelden en treiterden, als kind al, maar het wordt niet beter met een kleurtje, zeg maar. Waarom zou je slechte dingen overnemen van blanken? Of het is die haat aangepraat als Nederlanders er niet bij zijn, met ook het principe “onbekend maakt onbemind” en wellicht (religieuze) superioriteitswaan?

PRATEN

Mijn ouders vonden Nederlanders niet eens altijd onbeleefder en botter dan hun “eigen” mensen, in het geval van mijn moeder ook vanwege slechte ervaringen van mijn moeder met vooral Rechtse/fascistische Spanjaarden, zijzelf als wat vrijer en linkser denkend iemand. De Franco dictatuur in Spanje had ook iets bots en grauws in de sociale sfeer, en ze vond zelfs dat in Nederland meer mensen haar op straat vriendelijker en opener groeten dan in een afstandelijke, ieder-voor-zichzelf stad als Madrid, waar ze de laatste 4 jaar voor naar Nederland te gaan woonde. Nu woonde ze wel in een dorp in Nederland – Nieuw-Vennep – dat wel, minder anoniem dan een stad. Ook vond ze Nederlanders wat "doorzichtiger", zelfs als gemeen, dan andere volkeren, of veel van haar eigen mensen. Dat is wel een groot compliment, maar ze had niet veel intieme omgang met Nederlanders.

In de Italiaanse cultuur van mijn vader, ook als in het hoge noorden van Italië (Trentino, nabij Zwisterland en Oostenrijk – Alpien/Dolomieten Italië - waar hij vandaan kwam), is veel en grappig praten belangrijk en gestimuleerd in het sociale verkeer. Deel van het Mediterraanse buitenleven. Mijn moeder herkende dat ook wel, maar stelde toch dat ze daarnaast ook opvallend veel introverte, zwijgzame Spanjaarden heeft gekend. In Italië is veel kunnen praten belangrijk, dus zwijgzaam of rustig zijn zag hij – deels onterecht – als Nederlandse cultuurtrek. Ikzelf denk dat Nederlanders vooral “anders” praten – minder opsmuk zoals Rentes de Carvalho zei, weinig “gratie” of handgebaren ook – maar vaak niet minder spraakzaam met vrienden.

Rentes de Carvalho zegt daarover: “Ze (Nederlanders) kennen de kunst van het praten niet, van het praten om het praten, plezier hebben in woorden. Ze praten wel, zeker, als Brugman zelfs, maar het wordt allemaal zo gauw belerend, deftig” (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 42). Dat is zijn ervaring.

Een interessant cultuurverschil noemt Rentes de Carvalho niet, maar mogelijk is dat een verschil tussen Spanje en Portugal: Spanjaarden praten harder en met luidere stem, openbaar en privé, dan Nederlanders. Mijn moeder praatte soms ook op een manier – soms niet eens negatief of “boos” bedoeld, eerder opgewonden – die sommige Nederlanders als “schreeuwen” kunnen karakteriseren. Het viel haar al snel op dat Nederlanders zachter en discreter praten, wat ook andere Spaanse mensen in Nederland opvalt, inclusief als familieleden langskomen: “Wat praten die Nederlanders hier zacht!”..

Rentes de Carvalho noemt dat niet echt in zijn boek, waardoor dat harde praten mogelijk minder voor Portugal geldt, of is het niet zo’n aandachtspunt. Dat is het ook niet meer van mij trouwens: door die cultuur en praatverschillen heb ik mijzelf aangeleerd om op de inhoud te letten, en minder op toon en volume. Volume van praten zegt niets over het karakter van mensen heeft mijn leven mij geleerd. Harde praters konden liefdevol zijn, zachte praters de meest haatdragende dingen zeggen. In de Italiaanse cultuur is het zelfs zo dat hatelijke dingen soms wat zachter (geniepiger) worden gezegd, net als bij sommige Nederlanders met ook haat en rancune in hun hart.

Die regelzucht van Nederland herkenden en bekritiseerden mij ouders ook, net als Rentes de Carvalho. Echter, ze prezen het ook wel, Nederland immers dat goed georganiseerde, welvarende land makend dat het is. Hetzelfde geldt voor het sterke economische vermogen voor een klein land, strak organisatievermogen, en de werkdiscipline. Relatieve complimenten, dat is waar: dat iemand een bovengemiddeld goede accountant is, maakt nog niet dat je met hem wilt gaan feesten van het weekend.., maar nog steeds complimenteus.

VERANDERINGEN

Sommige Nederlandse cultuurtrekken, ook de wat minder sympathieke, blijken hardnekkig de tand des tijds te doorstaan, naar mijn opvatting. Sinds 1972 is er me dunkt echter wel veel veranderd bij de Nederlanders. Het is allemaal wat internationaler geworden: via de media, meer migranten, en het meer kunnen reizen van Nederlanders. Zo botsten de Nederlanders op andere culturen, inclusief keukens, muziekstijlen, zelfs verspreid buiten hippe, hoogopgeleide Randstedelingen. Dit verscheen daarom ook in Nederland, en maakte het multicultureler.

1972 is ook een interessant jaar, want toen ik in Amsterdam kwam wonen (2003) ben ik veel Surinamers, of Nederlanders met een Surinaamse achtergrond tegen gekomen. De Surinaamse cultuur is wat geslotener dan die lijkt – ondanks het imago van “gezelligheid” - maar iets opener dan de Nederlandse, waardoor je mensen wel leert kennen. De Surinaamse gemeenschap heeft veel invloed gehad in Amsterdam, hoe je het ook wendt of keert. Okee, op sommige terreinen wat sterker dan op andere, maar redelijk wijd. Rentes de Carvalho was vanaf het begin woonachtig in Amsterdam, en noemt Surinamers weinig in dit boek. Andere migranten (Turken, Arabieren, Portugezen e.a.) wat meer. Misschien waren ze er tot die tijd (1972) nog niet zoveel, of waren ze minder nadrukkelijk aanwezig.

Hij noemt wel Surinamers en Antillianen, maar in een weinig vleiende beschrijving, bovendien ontsierd door het gebruik van het "n" woord, dat nu terecht in diskrediet is geraakt.

In het hoofdstuk over 'Gezelligheid. Manieren.' schrijft hij aldus, helaas weinig politiek correct: "Het is vermakelijk te zien hoe de jonge negers uit Suriname of de Antillen deze gewoonten meteen door hebben en er profijt van trekken, in de zekerheid dat de Hollander alles slikt uit angst voor racist uitgemaakt te worden.. De Surinamers lachen om de rijen wachtende mensen, dringen voor, brutaal-nonchalant, hun 'takki-takki' pratend dat niemand verstaat" ('Waar die andere God woont', p. 71/72).

Zoals gezegd is deze passage ontsierd door tegenwoordig incorrecte termen (ook 'takki-takki' is een verouderde - en denigrerende - term voor de taal correcter bekend als Sranan Tongo of (misschien) Creools of Surinaams. Het beschrijft bovendien vervelend gedrag, al zegt hij erbij dat ze het van de Nederlanders in hun omgeving overnamen. Iets van de spanningen tussen de bevolkingsgroepen wordt eruit nog wel duidelijk.

WIT OF ZWART

Dit alles verklaart deels waarom ik mij – tot verbazing van sommigen in mijn huidige vriendenkring – opgroeiend, nooit als “blank” of “wit” heb gezien, al ben ik een Europeaan. Deels wordt dat ook verklaard doordat ik in een vooral blank Noord-Hollands dorp als Nieuw-Vennep opgroeide. Het is ook niet te verklaren uit een “wit privilege” waardoor ik mij raciaal geen zorgen hoefde te maken, wat sommige lezers nu mogelijk denken: autochtone Nederlanders zagen mij en mijn familie toch wel degelijk als “anders” en buitenstaanders, want buitenlanders.

Uit wat ik hierboven vertel blijkt immers dat we bij mij thuis vooral bezig waren met de verschillen met Noord-Europeanen als Nederlanders vanuit onze Italiaans-Spaanse culturen (proberen) te “ontcijferen”. “Nederlanders doen dingen anders dan wij”, dat werk. Dit had geen raciaal component, hoewel we wisten dat Nederlanders meestal blonder, langer en lichter waren. Dat laatste ook maar deels: zowel mijn vader als ik werden net als Nederlanders roodverbrand van de zon (mijn moeder eerder bruin) als we familie in Andalusië (Zuid-Spanje) bezochten, en mijn haar is donker, maar met een rodige gloed, en een van mijn broers is zelfs nog blonder dan ik (men dacht altijd dat hij Nederlander was).. Toch: we waren bezig met cultuurverschillen, niet met ras.

Achteraf ben ik daar blij om, en zie ik dat zelfs als een zegen. Ik vind het bijna zwakzinnig om zo te denken in wit en zwart. Je komt uit een Europese cultuur, of je hebt een Afrikaanse afkomst, al dan niet gemankeerd en verstoord door meer dan 400 jaar slavernij en onderdrukking, maar nog steeds met een eigen Afro-gebaseerde cultuur.

Gelukkig dacht ik niet, toen ik voor het eerst naar Reggae-songteksten luisterde (ik leerde al jong Engels), rond mijn 11e levensjaar: ik ben wit, zwarten hebben een andere belevingswereld: dit snap ik toch niet. Mijn eerste impuls was om te proberen te begrijpen wat deze persoon zingt, en of ik me ermee kan identificeren. Gewoon als medemens.

Tegenwoordig hoor ik blanken wel zo praten (de muziek klinkt leuk, maar die teksten van die zwarten uit het ghetto snap ik toch niet: we hadden het thuis goed en ik ben wit). Mijn ouders waren arbeiders en zeker niet rijk, maar we kwamen rond en woonden betrekkelijk comfortabel. Toch kon ik me meteen met teksten identificeren.

Daarom zeg ik nog altijd dat cultuur belangrijker is dan ras, en dat ervaar ik ook echt zo.

RACISME

Rentes de Carvalho zegt dus weinig over gekleurde of zwarte mensen in Nederlanders, en niet veel meer over licht-getintere types, die er vaak zelfs uit zien als donkere Zuid-Europeanen (Arabieren, Turken), maar zegt wel wat interessants over racisme in Nederland.

In het extra hoofdstuk bij de uitgave van 1982 (dus over de periode 1972-1982), zegt hij iets dat nu, bij schrijven (2019) nog even relevant is.

“Ik heb al eerder geschreven dat het racisme een gezwel is dat een groot aantal Nederlanders heeft aangetast, maar nu moet ik er helaas aan toevoegen dat het aantal is toegenomen, terwijl de minderheid die het veroordeelt kleiner en onverschilliger is geworden” (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 167)..

Even verderop, en goed verwoord: “Ik voel het hoe langer hoe meer als een factor die gewicht in de schaal legt bij gesprekken en voorkeuren, een dagelijks verschijnsel”.. (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 167).

Vooral, zo zegt hij, het “geniepige racisme, het moeilijk aantoonbare, waar je constant op stuit maar dat, op heterdaad betrapt…wegkruipt” (‘Waar die andere God woont’, p. 167/168) in Nederland baart hem (in 1982!) zorgen, meer dan het karikaturale, openlijke racisme van marcherende (neo-)nazi’s wat niet zoveel voorkomt in Nederland.

Dit schreef hij dus in 1982, toen Surinamers en Antillianen nog niet eens zo zichtbaar in Nederland aanwezig waren, en waarna nog veel Marokkaanse migranten naar Nederland zouden komen, ook wel meer Zuid-Amerikanen, en nog later asielzoekers en vluchtelingen uit verschillende Afrikaanse en Aziatische landen. Veel mensen om dat type geniepige racisme op toe te passen en uit te proberen, kun je cynisch stellen. Het invloedrijke boek ‘Alledaags racisme’ – met name over ervaringen op de werkvloer van zwarte vrouwen in Nederland – geschreven door Philomena Essed, verscheen dan ook voor het eerst in 1984..

J. Rentes de Carvalho’s ‘Waar die andere God woont’ (1972/1982), is ook om deze reden zowel een tijdsbeeld als tijdloos..

TIJDSBEELD EN TIJDLOOS

Een tijdsbeeld en tijdloos lijkt tegenstrijdig, maar hoeft dat niet te zijn. De "hippie-jaren" kwamen vanaf ongeveer 1967 tot de vroege jaren 70 ook in Amsterdam en Nederland op, en dat is een beetje de focus van tijd in Rentes de Carvalho's boek. Vandaar zijn aandacht voor veranderingen in geslachtsverhoudingen, de seksuele "revolutie", alsook andere maatschappelijke, progressieve stromingen, die toen - modieus of dieper - invloed hadden. Hij wijdt er zelfs een hoofdstukje aan. Hij schrijft dat hij niet tegen verandering is, maar uit wel scepsis over wangevolgen van de verandering, zoals de sexshops. Ook dit verbindt hij aan de culturele context waarin deze plaats vinden, namelijk het calvinistische, vooral botte en fantasie-arme Nederland.

Die Nederlandse volksaard blijkt daarentegen wel tijdlozer, in veel opzichten, niet alle. De wat botte manieren, omgang met buitenstaanders, "calvinistiche koopmansgeest", gebrek aan sier en opsmuk, wat stijf en rechtlijnig. Op zich "neutrale", historisch gevormde karaktertrekken, die echter anders zijn dan die in Portugal en andere Zuid-Europeze landen. Het vele reizen naar Zuid-Europa van veel Nederlanders, of de EU, verandert dat in essentie weinig: ze gaan in drie van de vier gevallen als Nederlander naar Spanje, niet als iemand die wil "verspaansen". Voor de zon en wat andere attracties wellicht.

Rentes de Carvalho stelt zoals al gezegd dat het racisme erger is geworden in Nederland, tussen 1972 en 1982, en uitsluitender. Die stijgende lijn kan te maken hebben met de aanwezigheid van meer en andere typen buitenlanders, een andere tijdsgeest, belangen, en nog veel meer. Hij heeft daar in ieder geval denk ik wel een punt.

Het boek is prettig leesbaar, en zoals reeds gezegd "herkenbaar" voor mij, maar dus in zekere mate ook "leerzaam", juist omdat het zowel een tijdsbeeld als het tijdloze beschrijft.

Tribute to Vaughn Benjamin (from an Amsterdam perspective)

Reggae fans were recently, the 5th of November of 2019, shocked by the news of the death of Vaughn Benjamin, iconic singer/frontman of the St Croix Reggae band Midnite, later renamed Akae Beka. He was only 50, and planning concerts and tours. While St Croix has a quite extensive Roots Reggae scene – for a small island -, with great artists like Dezarie, Pressure Busspipe, Batch, Army, and others, Midnite/Akae Beka became a figurehead of St Croix Reggae. Midnite with Vaughn Benjamin reached an international popularity in Reggae, and even got respect out of Jamaica.

The appreciation of Vaughn Benjamin-led Midnite, later Akae Beka, can be attributed to these bands very, distinctive and unique sound, setting it largely apart from contemporary Reggae from Jamaica, harkening – according to many – back to the Golden Era of Classic Roots Reggae of the 1970s, including the general “mystical vibe”. As with all matters of taste and art: opinions differed, as some loved that sound, and others – also within reggae - disliked it. Overall, however, there were many specific Midnite fans among general Reggae fans in several countries in the Caribbean, in the US, and Europe.

AMSTERDAM

I would like to pay tribute to the - in any case - unique artist that Vaughn Benjamin was from the perspective of Amsterdam, Netherlands. I live there, and am part of the Reggae scene in Amsterdam, so that seemed appropriate to me. Moreover, besides speaking for myself as just one person, with my own tastes and opinions, I decided to ask others I know in the Amsterdam - and Netherlands - Reggae scenes their opinions on Vaughn Benjamin and Midnite’s contribution.

AS FOR ME

Admittedly, I may not have been the biggest fan of Midnite in the Netherlands. On an online social forum, a Dutch Reggae fan commented to me, a few years ago: “Midnite: you either love them or hate them”..

I knew what he meant, but would not go that far: I actually found a middle ground: some days I was in the mood for Midnite, other days I was not. Their mystical, intense sound, was a bit “empty” and sober, which lends itself to certain moods. Moods of a reflective, “purifying” nature. I did not always need that, as playfulness, humour, and, well, “riddim” could teach and “purify” me just as much.

Jamaican Reggae, also of the Rastafari-inspired New Roots, was in my opinion overall more playful, richer in instrumentation, and more varied than Midnite’s style, as to a lesser degree others in the St Croix school. This is no disrespect to St Croix Reggae. That is how musical art and culture works. The best Flamenco, with all knowledge and nuances, is still made in Spain, the best Samba in Brazil, the best Soukous in DR Congo, the best Calypso in Trinidad and Tobago, the best Blues in the US. And the best Reggae in Jamaica. “Best” in this case meaning also “authentic” from a cultural viewpoint. A culturally defined quality norm, so to speak.

Other uses from outsiders can still be artistically nice and creative (pure or fused with other genres), of course, as music is free and internationalizes. Even some white, European or US people can play or make Reggae reasonably well: there are nice Reggae songs by Gentleman, Alborosie, or Soldiers of Jah Army. It can even be the case that practitioners from ”outside” approach the authentic level, more often the case when the cultural distance is not so far to begin with.

SAINT CROIX

The latter is certainly the case with St Croix: just like Jamaica, a Caribbean island with a mainly Black, African-descended population, a history of plantation slavery, and with once a Protestant, North European colonizer. And in time a local Rastafari community.

St Croix and the now called US Virgin Islands (besides St Croix, also including St Thomas and St John) were once a Danish colony, bought – yes: bought – for a sum by the US in 1916. The Danish government apparently wanted or needed that money. Nearby Puerto Rico also became part of the US before, but in another way: after a war with Spain. The Virgin Islands further have an historical connection to the British Empire (it was also a period French), and an English-based Creole is spoken there, as in Jamaica. Maybe at one point in history even Africans spoke Danish, but an English Creole developed over time.

In addition, similarities in the history of slavery, colour distinctions, poverty, ghetto life, emigration, etcetera, between St Croix and Jamaica, are certainly there. Even the slave population had once some cultural similarities: enslaved Africans came in both places from different parts of Africa, but both in Jamaica and St Croix, slaves with a Akan/Ghana background were relatively numerous.

Still, St Croix Reggae artists created an own sound and style, representing an unique sound, to differing degrees distinct also from Jamaican contemporaries (still: the “benchmark”).

While other St Croix artists like Pressure Busspipe, or (Ras) Batch, connect in their “feel” well to Jamaican New Roots, Midnite seemed more unique, even incomparable.

Vaughn Benjamin’s distinct singing style shaped in part that uniqueness, plus the somewhat sober, yet steady, bass-focussed instrumentation.

SINGING AND INSTRUMENTS

Vaughn Benjamin had undoubtedly a songwriting talent, and a knack for writing catchy melodies. To be honest, though, personally I did not fall in love immediately with Vaughn’s singing voice, as I did for instance with those of Bushman, Junior Kelly, Richie Spice, Iba Mahr, Dezarie, or - earlier - Ijahman Levi, Mykal Rose, Hugh Mundell, Alton Ellis, or the Mighty Diamonds’ Tabby.

While not outstanding, I found Vaughn’s singing still okay and pleasant enough, but at times somewhat monotonous and “flat”, at least on some songs. His wavering with his voice creates a mystical vibration, aided further by his extensive, “deep reasoning” lyrics, synthesizing Rastafari spirituality broadly with world history, global affairs, and philosophy. This created a very intense, spiritual mood, that many Reggae fans appreciated. I only some of the time, but still could easily understand its appeal. I did on the other hand appreciate the wisdom in Benjamin’s lyrics, though finding them at times hard to get at once: Vaughn Benjamin tended to tell a lot in each song, haha.

As a percussionist, I missed percussion in Midnite’s music, that could – besides my personal focus - also be fuller instrument-wise, in general, with also for example more use of horns or flutes. It sounds a bit too sober and guitar-oriented, I find sometimes. The drumming on Midnite could also be better, in my opinion, making me myself prefer Jamaican Reggae more, having – thank Jah! – mostly high and maintained standards of drumming, alongside room for percussion. On some songs of Midnite I liked the drumming better, and even heard some percussion here and there (though relatively limited and soft in the mix, but still audible). They used relatively often “fresh”, original riddims, that is on the plus side, but these have to be of high quality too.

Sometimes I also felt in the mood for Midnite/Akae Beka’s “mystical”, deep style for a while, appreciating especially its “hypnotic” effect. I noticed this during some concerts of Midnite I visited, where the sober band sound, and Vaughn’s singing, during the best moments, seemed truly spiritual and engaging, taking me somewhere else, as if enchanted. Not the best concerts I ever saw, but great and engaging enough.

As far as I recall, I have seen Midnite and Akae Beka live a total of 4 times: once in Amsterdam, once in Amstelveen, and – earlier in time - during the Garance Reggae festival in Bagnols, the South of France (2011), and during Reggae Sundance near Eindhoven (South Netherlands) in 2014. Especially that last one left a big impression on me, leaving me almost “hypnotized” or mesmerized (in a good way).

In conclusion, I am not the biggest fan in the Netherlands of Midnite/Akae Beka, but neither do I hate or dislike them, and can/could appreciate them partly and on occasion. But that’s personal.

AS FOR OTHERS

On Facebook and other online social fora, I noticed how Dutch and Amsterdam Reggae fans responded to the death of Vaughn Benjamin. Shocked by the news and sorry for the loss, but in many cases also far beyond mere humane courtesy. Some in the Amsterdam and Netherlands were sincerely sad and deeply shocked, since they considered themselves big Midnite fans, and knew many of their (many) albums and songs. They loved Midnite as band and Vaughn Benjamin as artist and personality. He touched their heart and soul. That is a beautiful, positive thing by itself. Others had a love for Midnite and Benjamin that was perhaps less strong, but still present, Midnite being often among their favourite artists in the genre.

Since this is a tribute, I will further focus in this post on such positive opinions I encountered, while I am fully aware that there are probably many among Dutch reggae fans disliking them, or more neutrally “sensing no special connection” to Midnite.

No manipulation of truth will follow now, however: I just report why other people in the Amsterdam reggae scene appreciate Midnite/Akae Beka/Vaugh Benjamin, including specific songs or lyrics they liked most.

LYRICS

I heard several in the Amsterdam Reggae scene praise the deep, insightful lyrics of Midnite/Akae Beka, even according to some (like my selecta/dj friend Bill) able to get people out of depression and away from suicidal thoughts; that much of a life-saving effect. Some named especially certain songs for their lyrics, containing good and educational, even life-changing lyrics, aside from their musical qualities. Loddy Culture (Lorenzo), another more vinyl reggae selecta, said to me, regarding this: ”He (Vaughn Benjamin) left us so much knowledge. If u study his lyrics u understand..”

Specific songs named, with regard to lyrics were: Midnite – No Blanco (“pure lava”, said Loddy Culture, a Reggae selecta in Amsterdam), the track Bless (by Midnite), named as such by musician Rootzlion (quoting the lyric: “Babylon a curse, when they could have blessed”). Ras Tariq, a selecta and organizer in Amsterdam, named specifically Midnite’s song Propaganda, describing it as the “Irieginal message..”.

Loddy Culture further named the songs by Midnite: Bombs Away and Mr Joy, but as much for their musical qualities. Specifically, Bombs Away was musically in the Steppers mode, as not many of Midnite (preferring basic One Drop riddims, mostly), but to good effect according to Loddy Culture. Loddy has a liking for this Steppers style within Reggae.

Another one I know from the scene, also a selecta in Amsterdam, mentioned particularly the song Due Reward, by Midnite (from the 1997 album Unpolished), because of its lyrics regarding each one getting what one deserves, finding this text relevant in relation to the “call for unity”. Musically, he also likes the song because it is engaging and relatively groovy.

Another one I know from the Amsterdam Reggae scene, Dimitris (selecta Smoking Salmon), said he liked Midnite’s song named Drifters.

Carol, also known under her selectress name Sound Cista, mentioned a few songs she likes: Batter Ram Sound, Lianess, Live The Life You Love, and Rasta To The Bone. She also said, however, that she in fact likes all of his (Midnite’s) songs..

Interestingly, different people still name different “favourite” songs, showing different preferences also by what they choose to upload on Facebook. Each person has an own taste, of course.

Midnite and Akae Beka have a quite extensive album list, so there are much songs to choose from. Interestingly, some are named or uploaded more than others, though it still consists of a varied list, of both “faster” and slower”, and “fuller” and “emptier” songs. Songs uploaded relatively often included the already mentioned Drifters, Midnite’s biggest “hit” Live The Life You Love, Kaaba Stone, and Drought. Kaaba Stone I like too, because of its interesting lyrics. Roll Call was also uploaded by some.

Personally, I can add that I also like the song Due Reward, and further Bazra (relatively “fuller”), Babylon Dem Copy, and Great Zimbabwe Walls, combining content and groove.

SIGNIFICANCE

Besides his “uplifting” lyrics that could help you out of a depression, as my man Bill said, others in the scene attributed more qualities and meanings to Vaughn Benjamin’s role in Reggae music.

Midnite and Akae Beka (since 2015) left many albums between 1997 and 2019. The debut being Unpolished from 1997. Up to more than 60 (!) albums followed since then. These are appreciated by many reggae fans globally, leaving an important legacy that can never be taken away. In that sense, Vaughn Benjamin was an important artist.

These are just numbers, though. Culturally or intellectually he also left a legacy and influence.

Strictly musically, it is difficult to say, because the instrumentation follows the quite basic, dubby One Drop St Croix patterns, that seem only partly innovative, in my opinion: a bit more sober and bass-oriented than the Jamaican contemporary or earlier models, but still nice and groovy. Midnite might have helped shape this St Croix feel of Reggae. Further, Vaughn Benjamin’s distinct singing style might have influenced other singers like Dezarie, or even outside the St Croix scene. Dezarie has a “prettier” voice than Vaughn, but has something of the same mystical vibe.

Benjamin’s Rastafari spirituality is shared with many of his bredren and sistren within Reggae, but he has an own touch regarding his relatively extensive, “scholarly” lyrics, including “connecting” references to world and African history and socioeconomic and philosophical currents, even at a times quite abstract level. Some deem his lyrics even “cryptic” at times. Spirituality as connected to daily reality, but also somehow “above” it.

Some in the Amsterdam reggae scene seemed to appreciate such deep lyrics. I myself too, to a point, although I became in time weary of “too much information at once” (also learned that when I tried to write lyrics myself). An advantage with recorded music is however that you can always listen a song again, to get other parts of the lyrics: it helps to make it more enduring. This was one of Vaughn Benjamin’s undeniable strengths.

Besides many songs with perhaps “too much information at once”, you still hear soon some wise sentences by Vaughn Benjamin like “The paradox is in the ugliness of vanity” (from song Kaaba Stone) or similar wise, insightful phrases in several songs. I noticed that different people in the Amsterdam reggae scene appreciated different lyrics of Vaughn Benjamin, for their own spiritual or personal reasons, which is okay and even good: art remains a personal experience. It further shows how Vaughn appealed to many different people.

Ras Tariq, selecta in Amsterdam, called Vaughn the “Carbon Messenjah”, and the “original black messiah who come to teach humanity on Iniversal principles and inner and overstandings”.

Another selecta I know from the scene (who liked the song Due Reward), said that Vaughn Benjamin "had a unique, almost mystical charisma, that he could also hear and feel in his music". In addition, he describes how Midnite’s live sessions helped him find “inner peace”, something few other bands/artists achieve with him.

Carol, selectress Sound Cista, commented to me that Vaughn Benjamin’s singing/chanting has a “meditative” effect on her. She has seen him 3 times live, and noted that he was really a strong, charismatic personality, standing there on stage.

Carol also mentioned having prepared his dressing room for a concert, and noticing his strict diet, compared to other artist rooms: no candy and chips, but instead fruit, water and organic tea.

Mau Kappar, owner of Reggae-minded Café the Zen in Amsterdam (where Carol and other people mentioned here also play), confirmed this strict Rastafarian stance, having met and worked with Vaughn Benjamin. Café the Zen helped organize Midnite/Akae Beka concerts in Amsterdam and around (e.g. Amstelveen). Mau of Café the Zen – in a radio interview – also indicated how Vaughn continued to work hard for his music, inspiring him in this regard.

Another one, Ronald, I know from the Amsterdam Reggae scene, told me that he had become the last years an avid Midnite/Akae Beka fan, starting to visit as much concerts of them as possible, and considering Vaughn Benjamin’s bands as one of his favourites. Consequently, he really felt the recent loss of Vaughn strongly, as if a family member died.

He enjoyed his songs and albums, and moreover found Vaughn Benjamin’s live concerts magical and enthralling, hypnotizing experiences, of an unique kind. I knew what he meant. He even saw other audience members around him being intensely moved with closed eyes, like happens in what is called Classical Music. Vaughn did during such concerts not talk directly with or to the audiences, as other artists do (“can you say: “yeah!”). Rather, Ronald argues, “Vaughn communicated with the audience through the magical bond created by the music”.

Well put.

Igbo and Udu

This blog is mostly a reflection of my life and interests. A main interest of mine is percussion. The type of percussion I focus on, brings with it an interest in African and Afro-American musical culture. I specialized – perhaps – in certain countries more than others, as many do. In the Americas for instance, some are specialized in - or have a preference for - Brazilian music, including music and percussion from there, whereas many percussionists also have an interest for Cuba.

The latter also applies to me: Cuba got my interest, and I even have been there several times. Jamaica got my interest too. Afro-Cuban percussion and Jamaican reggae influenced me, while I specialized less in countries like Brazil, Colombia, or the Dominican Republic, even though there are interesting types of drums and percussion in those countries too. I still try to know something about the percussion in these countries too, keeping my interest broad and international.

Within Africa, I likewise have a bit of a specialization, but also that broad interest. The Yoruba and Congo cultures were both influential in Cuba (and parts of Brazil, by the way), so my percussion interest in Africa traced those specific origins and roots too, soon expanding it to other cultures.

IGBO

One of these is the Igbo culture, located in Southeastern Nigeria. Numerically in fact one of Nigeria’s largest ethnic groups, the Igboes were – like the Yoruba and Congo - historically very much affected by the colonial slave trade, with many Igboes forcibly brought to parts of the Americas.

In this post, I further delve into this Igbo influence, all the more since I discussed the Yoruba influence and Congo influences already in earlier posts on this blog, in fact in several posts.

UDU

The connection of the Igbo and percussion is with an instrument I have and use for quite some years now: the "Udu". It is an instrument, derived from a clay jug or pot, but with an extra hole on the side. It is played among the Igbo people, especially by women, mainly by hitting the open hand on the udu hole, interchanged by taps. It tends to have a bass function in Igbo music.

Since I got this Udu instrument, I knew it came from Igbo culture. Another instrument I would have wanted too, but could not afford it: the ekwe, a "log drum", or a slit, hollowed out (part of a) tree trunk, I encountered (and played) at times during percussion jams.

Due to these nice sounding instruments, my interest in Igbo culture increased, even though I always have found Nigeria a fascinating country in general.

An interesting musical and percussion culture, as there are more in Africa – after all the “most percussive” continent -, but there is an extra question.. What about this culture and music of the Igbo affected by the slave trade and brought as slaves to the Americas? Did it leave substantial influences, far away from Igbo-land?

IGBO IN THE AMERICAS

I already learned from earlier studies that enslaved Africans from different parts, tended to end up in different places too somewhat concentrated. As scholar Robert Farris-Thompson also pointed out: the relatively most widely scattered (and thus enslaved) African ethnic group – geographically - throughout the Americas were from the Congo area, thereby unifying to a degree culturally Afro-Americans from Argentina and Brazil to the US.

Then there were concentrations, besides the also present and often substantial Congo populations. In some countries, like Brazil and Cuba, slaves from the Congo area, made up over 30% of the African population. Elsewhere they are quite present too, such as in Haiti and parts of the US. In Jamaica, still over 20 % of Jamaicans have Congo foreparents, despite a strong Akan presence among slaves in Jamaica.

The Igbo also tended to be concentrated more in some places, especially in the Virginia and Maryland areas of the US they even formed the majority among slaves at one point, as they were on the island of Barbados. Some scholars even suggest that about 60% of all African Americans in the US have at least one Igbo ancestor.

This is interesting, also in light of my earlier posts in which I adress the musicologist distinction of African musical influence in the Americas: more "forest Africa" (Congo, Yoruba) in Cuba, and more "sahel/Mali/Mande Africa" in the US. This distinction is quite sensible and useful: indeed Afro-Cuban music (from which Salsa derived) has a traceable, clave/polyrhythmic origin from the Congo area, while US Blues and Jazz, in their "swing", shows evident influences from the Mande/Guinea ("Griot") parts of Africa. Yet, the quite numerous presence of other cultural groups in the US as well - such as the Igbo -, makes this distinction somewhat simplified.

In the case of Barbados, over 40% of the slave population once there, were said to come from the Bight of Biafra area, being mostly Igbo.

In Jamaica, the Igbo were also quite present among the Africans, alongside slaves of other (Akan or Congo, or otherwise) origins. Igbo were relatively most found in northwestern parts of Jamaica.

There is an Anglo-Saxon connection with the Igbo’s enslavement, as in Spanish, Portuguese, and French colonies, Igboes seemed less present historically. Historical records indeed confirm that English slave merchants from Bristol and Liverpool, having Virginia also as main market, traded relatively much in Igbo people, having access to the Bight of Biafra ports.

A partly related group from neighbouring areas in SE Nigeria - Calabar -, are the Efik-Ibibio, and these have been quite present in Cuba among Africans, known there as “Calabarí”. These Efik-speaking slaves were to some degree culturally related or with similarities to the Igbo, yet still also culturally and linguistically different enough from them.

INSTRUMENTS

Slaves were stripped from everything, their belongings, and eventually even their name. Of course, it is hardly likely that enslaved Africans were in the position to take musical instruments with them, even small percussion ones. The slave masters did not – or rarely – allow this, by itself being a strong sign of the utter dehumanization this slavery represents.

The musical instruments that developed among enslaved Africans, or their descendants, in the Americas, therefore were made “from scratch” locally, but according to African traditions and memories.

Interestingly, in the traditional music of Afro-Barbadians, there is an instrument made from a hollowed out tree trunk, very similar from the Igbo Ekwe, and probably influenced by it. Bottle and calabash use as instruments in Barbadian folk music as a whole, maybe show echoes of the Udu. Also, in Virginia an Igbo-type of drum – the Eboe drum – lived on in folk music.

Linguistically and otherwise, the Igbo certainly left some influences among Africans in the Americas, such as in Jamaican patois/Creole language, and some other Creole languages in the region, and African American dialects in the US. In Jamaican patois , the word “Unu”, meaning “you, (plural)” is quite commonly used, and comes from the Igbo language.

Also the term “backra”, for white man, - known also in other languages in the region, such as Surinamese Creole – has probably an Igbo origin.

In Jamaica, the Igbo were said to be a bit lighter or “redder” in their skin complexion, when compared to other groups, giving birth to the term “Red Eboes” in colonial Jamaica.

In Nigeria itself, in Igboland, skin tones tend to differ among the Igbo, while there is overall a somewhat lighter hue, compared to surrounding groups. Their origins are partly associated with Bantu people.

Igbo slaves were in most colonies not preferred as slaves. They tended to be rebellious, but also suicidal, as a common response among Igbo to escape slavery. Several cases in Georgia of suicidal Igbo slaves, in the US, attest to this. Igbo male slaves were furthermore called relatively “lazy” among white planters in Jamaica.

YORUBA AND IGBO

The Yoruba were another Nigerian (and around) group likewise strongly affected by the Atlantic Slave Trade, but there are differences. In spite of the “skin tone” issue, some Yoruba claim a Middle Eastern connection to their origins, while the Igbo feel more a connection with Bantu peoples East of them. Yoruba society at the time of the slave trade was quite centralized and urban organized, whereas Igboland at that time was more small village and rurally based, with local “democracies”. Possibly their less organized society made their confrontation with dehumanizing slavery all the more shocking to their worldview. Their suicidal tendencies, and the way they rebelled, might relate to this background.

Ghana and Yorubaland were more centralized and organized kingdoms, making the concept of slavery more known, but giving also a base for large-scale, organized rebellion, as indeed Akan-speaking slaves in Jamaica were known for.

Congo slaves, by contrast, were in several colonies (Cuba, Jamaica, Suriname, Brazil) known less for organized rebellion, and more for escaping/running away from the plantations. This might also be a reflection of the loose, small-scale communities, and rainforest life in the Congo area during slavery.

UDU AGAIN

Back to the Udu. In the Americas, the only instrument coming close to the Udu is found in Cuba, and is know as the “botija”, which is simply Spanish for “vessel” or “jug”, similar to what Udu means in the Igbo language.

The botija is however played by mouth, while sharing the extra hole on the side, and the fact that it is a clay jug as well. It also has a similar musical “bass” function, but is – as said – played with the mouth (blowing) – and not with the hands.

Via some African connection the Udu model might have reached Cuba too (English ships sold slaves to Cuba too), but in Spain a clay jug is also found as a friction drum, a rope in a skin, with a bass function, called the “zambomba”. Perhaps both served as cultural models.

INTERNATIONAL

The Udu itself has in fact in recent decades “gone international” to a degree, as its popularity increased among international percussionists. Some own Udu-based models were later developed by Persian/Iranian percussionist (e.g. adding a skin or more holes), and there were other innovations made outside of Igboland or Africa.

The original or adapted/reworked Igbo Udu is by now played internationally, mostly outside its original context, by percussionists worldwide.

This internationalization is such, that when searching on “Udu” in YouTube, one finds mostly Westerners and some Iranians playing (versions of the) Udu, with only few videos or examples of actual Igbo women playing them. That is somehow skewed, in my opinion, and has of course to do with economic power, but combined with non-African arrogance and lack of respect. Eugene Skeef is a researcher who does interesting work studying the Udu in its original Igbo context, as a counterweight against this appropriation. Skeef also has some films on YouTube, recorded in Igboland itself.

The fact that “big” companies in the percussion world, LP (US-based), Meinl (Germany), and Toca/RBI (US), manufacture their own Udu’s for the market, confirms this international popularity. It made Udu’s of different sizes and shapes available internationally and easily, that’s on the plus side. Also, some Iranian percussionists make Udu-based instruments themselves, in Iran, therefore more available there and around..

On the minus side of this, however, is that the “input” from the Igbo themselves is largely lacking, other than the original idea and invention, providing thus no economic possibilities for Igbo people themselves derived from the their own culture’s Udu’s increased popularity; money of it going after all to Western or Iranian companies.

Only if one buys Udu’s from Africa/Nigeria/Igboland itself - and it is not impossible to find these in Europe or North America - does it lead to actual reward for the cultural origins. My Udu, a basic and relatively small model, is such an African one.

I am not the only Udu player in the Netherlands, that is for sure. There might be some Nigerians of Igbo descent in the Netherlands playing the Udu informally, and there is such a community. Among the active percussionists, I know of people like Vernon Chatlein (originally from Curaçao) who composes and performs with Udu’s at times, Roël Calister (also born in Curaçao) and a few others, but it remains in the Netherlands overall much more rarely used in percussion than the common djembe, bongos, and conga’s,

In its original Igbo context, the Udu is seen as a connection with the forefathers, speaking as it were through the Udu, while it was initially only played by women. In traditional Igbo music, the Udu combined with drums, shakers, and often too the ekwe trunk, and bells/gongs. This music accompanied various ceremonies and festivities, including masqueraded ones. Men now play Udu’s as well among the Igbo.

Outside the world of the percussion aficionado’s, the Udu is not much known, not even in the wider music industry. In some genres, such as Reggae, Jazz, or Fusion, some experimental percussionists use them, and of course it can be found in Igbo music, old and new.

It did not reach international popular music as much as, say, the shekere, cuica, or djembe.

I use it is some of my compositions, of which some are certainly African-based, but I also use it in Reggae and Dancehall music. I like its “earthy” and clay tones.

REMINDER

However used or recontextualized, the Udu essentially remains an historical reminder of simpler, undisturbed times in Igboland – before slavery - when local communities were intact, and local festivities and events were traditionally celebrated with music..

Why Columbus deserves no statue

Christopher Columbus is of course a controversial historical figure.

Long heralded in Western culture as an innovative global explorer, only quite recently more criticism came.

I encountered these critiques early on. As a child I read quite a lot, such as from the public library (pre-Internet days), including works by anticolonial writers.

Furthermore, I encountered this critique in a lot of Reggae lyrics. Reggae, developed by Afro-Jamaicans – victims of colonialism, as such -, and known for relatively many (Rastafari-inspired) socially critical lyrics, of course were critical about Columbus as starter of European colonialism as such. Lyrics by artists like Burning Spear, Mutabaruka, Peter Tosh, Culture, and several others, described and lamented the genocide of Amerindians, through disease and explotation, by first Spanish colonizers, and the enslavement of Africans and the slave trade it necessitated.

SLAVERY AND GENOCIDE

That first Spanish slave trade in Africans was not yet as massive and structured as it would become over time, but it certainly was the start of something bad and dehumanizing, including massive enslavement and transportation of Africans, and high death rates and short lives among these Africans. Especially the British and Dutch “perfected” and amplified this slave trade in Africans and plantation slavery (starting in Dutch Brazil and Barbados), making it even more massive, but also the Spanish and Portuguese later profited from this British and Dutch expertise; Spain for instance contracted the transport of slaves in part out to Dutch or British companies.

There was a large genocide among Amerindians in the Caribbean area, and other parts of Latin America to differing degrees too. In some countries, the Amerindians became part of the racially mixed population, including Spaniards, Amerindians, Africans, and even others. In the Caribbean few Amerindians remained, and several islands became mainly populated with people of African descent, or mixed with Europeans.

This was also the case in Cuba, where I have been several times. In some parts of Eastern Cuba (close to Baracoa) there was some remaining Amerindian blood in the population, but mostly it was disappeared or diluted in Spanish and/or African blood.

In certain other parts, such as the small island Dominica, some Carib Amerindians remained, while in Puerto Rico some Amerindian blood is still there in a part of the population, as it is in an island like Aruba.

The colonial period of exploitation inaugurated by Christopher Columbus caused therefore genocide, slavery, and poverty lasting for centuries (up to now), as European colonies exploited the American colonies, and later applied the same colonial logic to Africa and Asia. Racism increased strongly with Columbus’ “discovery” of the Americas, especially as part of a power and colonial logic. Amerindians and Afro-Americans are disproportionately more affected by poverty throughout the Americas and the Caribbean.

RACISM

If racism was "invented” with this American colonialism is harder to say. Arabs, Portuguese and Genoese already traded in African slaves before 1492, and saw them as inferior, and also in the Islamic world and parts of Europe and India there was historically a view of “inferiority” of African people, which can be viewed as early forms of anti-African racism. Significantly, there were also Black Africans in Islamic ruled, Moorish Spain (between 8th c-15th c.), besides locals, Berbers, and Arabs, but these Blacks were mostly slaves or servants. In that sense Blacks did not really rule over Spanish people, as I read somewhere about Moorish Spain; more North African Berbers and Arabs (along with converted locals) with Black African slaves.

This “White” or European sense of racial superiority, however, certainly got a boost with Columbus pioneering colonialism.

Columbus himself was neither in any way an heroic person. His biography shows perhaps an innovative, explorative, and adventurous man, but not a good, moral, and loving man. His zeal to gain more knowledge about the world – even if sincere – was trumped in his own mind by an egoistic urge to conquer and gain wealth: to rule and get rich. This at the cost of other people.

More details of his biography confirm this ruthless, wicked, and uncaring character, certainly as he forced women – even young girls - to have sex with him and others (i.e. raped them), and killed the weak and defenseless.

Only a deeply ingrained sense of Western, White superiority could make Europe blind for such moral and human considerations. Catholicism and Christianity was a part of this. Columbus, born in Genua, now Italy, later became a Portuguese citizen, called himself a Catholic.

COLONIAL GAINS

Though perhaps not the most devout Catholic, his stated goal to spread Christianity among the heathen was said to help convince the Spanish king and queen, Ferdinand and Isabella, to back his journey to the West in the year 1492. The promises of riches even more though.

Isabella at first articulated some objections against genocide and enslavement of other people – as contrary to what she considered Christian love – but her and others’ objections soon muted in Spain, as wealth and colonial power came to Spain. Certain groups in Spain suddenly got to live in luxury. In that pre-capitalist era, colonial gains were not yet always “invested” thoughtfully, as the British would do later. The Britons’ more strategic, so-to-speak “Protestant” treatment of colonial gains by investing in planned economic development, eventually enabled the leading role of Britain in the Industrial Revolution.

Also, the Calvinist Dutch invested their colonial gains (from Suriname, Indonesia and elsewhere) much more deliberate in their economies, than the more “loose-spending” earlier Spanish and Portuguese colonizers. So, one can say that blood money was either spent on luxury or invested more durably, but either way created wealthy elites in several European countries.

In this sense, it stimulated inequality, but in fact helped shape the Western world as we know it now. The tropical products that first entered Spain from its colonies, like tobacco, potatoes, rum, and much more, became popular throughout Europe. This is thus also what Columbus started and normalized: the exploitation of other parts of the world for their food or agricultural and raw products, removing their ownership from the local people. Multinational companies as such have their origins in the colonial era, many specific ones too (like Dutch-British oil company Shell), and these are very powerful in today’s world, as we know.

All this is by now quite well known, or should be. From exhaustive, lengthy scholarly studies about colonial history, to e.g. Reggae and Calypso song lyrics, the figure of Christopher Columbus is now presented in quite other lights: as a criminal, a murderer, a racist, a rapist, and a thief on a large scale. He was all this without a doubt, but he was at the same time influential politically in high places. He got, though first hesitantly, the support of the Spanish monarchs, and later inspired British and other monarchs, and British seafarers with colonial aims, such as Henry Morgan, and Francis Drake. Also explorers and pirates mentioned, by the way, in Reggae lyrics.

STATUES

Knowing all this, I find it simply absurd that there are still statues for Columbus in several places in the world: quite a large one in the city of Barcelona (Catalonia, Spain), somewhat smaller ones in other parts of Spain, a few in Italy (his native Genova, notably), some other European countries, and still several throughout the US (like in Central Park, New York), Latin America, and the Caribbean (like in Santo Domingo).

Objections and popular demands sometimes removed some of these, but many remain.

BARCELONA

The large one is Barcelona was the most noticeable, in my recollection. I went over a week to Barcelona, after I finished my academic studies in the year 2000. By then I was well in my twenties, and already a Reggae fan for over 14 years, plus I had read quite some anticolonial works. I was therefore not pleased with that large Columbus monument – close to the water front and where the Rambla begins – but neither paid very much attention to it. I was puzzled by the direction Columbus pointed, namely to Italy (his birthplace Genua), and not to the Americas from Barcelona.

ELSEWHERE: MADRID AND SAINT ANN'S BAY

I saw a few smaller Columbus monuments, after this, some of which I even almost did not see. Such as the one on the Plaza Colón in Madrid (named after Columbus, Colón being his name in Spanish). I was looking for a specific club on a nearby street, so my attention was here also distracted.

Mutabaruka, the Jamaican poet and musician (and radio host), once pointed jokingly at the irony of a statue of Marcus Garvey (Black Power thinker and activist) in his birthplace Saint Ann’s Bay, on the North Coast of Jamaica, with nearby in the same town a statue of Columbus. I went to Saint Ann’s Bay – a tranquil town with friendly, easy-going people - , and found the statue of Marcus Garvey, but did not see the one of Columbus.

OTHER STATUES

Of course, he was an influential historical figure, but a statue is a strange thing: it is not a impartial, neutral phenomenon. Inherently, statues serve to commemorate and praise at the same time. It implies that the person was a “positive model” in some sense and to some degree. There are statues of famous entertainers, musicians, or sportsmen/athletes too, but these were also seen as “positive” influences culturally somehow.

The final statues of Spanish dictator Franco have now mostly been removed all over Spain, even from Franco’s birthplace El Ferrol (Galicia). The same happened with any remaining public statues of Benito Mussolini in Italy. A public statue of Hitler in Germany or elsewhere is simply unthinkable.

Other statues of dictators, especially the more ruthless, oppressive ones, tend to be removed as much as possible too in several countries, with the arrival of democracy in societies.

This is so because a statue – as said – represent by its nature a “positive model”, or even a “hero”. It is not a book with information about the history , or a neutral documentary or description: statues imply honouring and veneration: immortalizing historical figures for the future with a sculpture. To differing degrees, of course. In birthplaces of famous people a statue of them can often be found, even if only active in the arts, or being wealthy or a powerful politician. They might have achieved something, but not necessarily something that made our world better, more equal, or only partly.. they just had a lot of power and influence in a certain epoch or location.

By all means, these historical periods and people (good and bad) should be studied scholarly and otherwise, and can even be an interesting theme in a neutral, balanced museum exhibition about local history.

A statue is something else, though. Due to his personal history and overall negative historical influence, Christopher Columbus should not be honoured, venerated, or heralded. Not in the least bit. He deserves it no more than people like Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, or Mussolini, or other dictators like Pol Pot, Salazar, Pinochet, Idi Amin, and Franco, or even big-time criminals like Al Capone or Pablo Escobar.

Many sensible people in the world understand very well, and would agree that such people deserve no statue and were no positive, heroic models for humanity.

For some reasons, this consciousness about Columbus - and for instance the large statue of Columbus in Barcelona - is lacking. One of the reasons might be that colonialism is further back in the past, and another reason is that European people do not like to see their country’s history – and their foreparents - in a bad light, connected as they are to that country and history. All-too-human, but therefore not justifiable.

European countries are beautiful and varied in their own way, like all countries, Spain has a varied, rich history, culture, and natural landscape, being at a Mediterranean crossroads. Other countries, like Britain, France, and the Netherlands have equally interesting, unique aspects, developed over time in their own way.

COLONIAL HISTORY

Denying, the “dark pages” or a bloody colonial history, including slavery, only makes that “blood money” more decisive in the sensed national identity than it needs to be. That period was about money, racism, and exploitation, “ruling the world”, but let’s hope that there is more to a nation’s people, and a country’s culture than that. From interesting ways to shape a country, cultural peculiarities, food habits, and organized societies, to nice folkore: the castanets of Spain, the Dutch clogs (wooden shoes), to name something.. not even always based on things copied from elsewhere (like the Pasta in Italy, based on Chinese mie taken by proto-colonizer Marco Polo), but at least an equal sharing among cultures. Columbus was on the other hand about domination and exploitation, taking and capturing, not sharing.

DENIAL

In addition, I think the still heralding of colonial “heroes” where it is present, but also the structural denying of colonial misdeeds keeps people separated. This structural denial is found in Spain and Portugal, but also in Britain, France, Belgium, and the Netherlands, where a seemingly more open and democratic atmosphere allowed more anticolonial critique as well as more neutral and balanced scholarly studies about the misdeeds. This anticolonial view has luckily increased recently also in Spain’s academic circles.

This anticolonial critique – both by migrants from former colonies, and local progressive intellectuals - was however only influential to a degree, and met its limits among a part of national elites and population, having still links with this colonial past. Former PM of Britain, David Cameron, had slaveowners in the Caribbean among his forefathers, Royal houses in the Netherlands, Britain, and Spain profited from colonial wealth.

Some cities or parts of them even were built with this “blood money” (colonial and slavery-derived income), Liverpool, Bristol, and Nantes being known examples, but also parts of Amsterdam, Seville, Barcelona (where many Catalan slaveowners in Cuba for instance invested money), Madrid, London, Bordeaux, and Paris, and to a lesser degree also other places and cities throughout Europe and the Western world. In that sense, the colonial history influenced not just economy but also culture, like all historical episodes (good or bad) do, of course. It also filled some museums, like the British Museum.

I argue therefore, that recognizing this colonial history openly for its misdeeds, even if of ancestors, is a mature and intelligent way of learning from the past, and keeping an open mind to the rest of the world. Ideally, we can learn from each other’s history and culture. In other places, slavery and exploitation, religious wars and such were known historically, just like in Europe.

Man kind never learns: from e.g. the unequal Indian caste system, common slavery in parts of Asia, Africa, and in the Islamic world, the dehumanized, lesser status of women in several societies worldwide, inhumane treatments of “outsiders” (or minorities) in societies, exploitation of poorer ones, religious fanaticism, and violence. Also, ethnic and religious conflicts, people feeling better than – and threatened by - other groups in the same societies and subjugating them, can be found on all continents historically.

All this is of course not just the domain of Europeans, and injustice and evil are found historically and presently among all humans, especially since we lost touch with nature. Some of these injustices, though, are certainly influenced by European colonialism and global inequalities.

REMOVE THE STATUE

All the more reasons why Columbus should not be honoured with a statue, in Barcelona, or anywhere.

The Columbus statue in Barcelona was made by well-known Catalan artists, and though it was entire Spain (and not just Catalonia) that obtained all these colonies, as made by a local Catalan, the statue connected to a regional pride within Catalonia, where many object to excessive centralist Spanish (Madrid or Castilian) influence on Catalan affairs.

I do consider such considerations however mundane, certainly in relation to the negative role of Christopher Columbus in history.

Removing that statue would be merely symbolic, I know, but it certainly would be an important and promising symbol..

Reggae music lovers (in the Netherlands): Sound Cista

How people got to be reggae music lovers or fans has always fascinated me. Maybe partly because reggae still is off/outside the mainstream, also in the Netherlands. It is not found that easily, let’s just say. It requires (to a degree) an extraordinary life path: that is, different from copying the masses, or simply following what’s commonly on television or the radio.

Reggae has of course since decades gone international and widened its fan base, but I have known individually quite different reggae fans within the Netherlands. Black and white (and Asian, or mixed etc.). Males and females. Old and young. Some with little education, some highly educated. Of different class backgrounds. Some combine liking reggae quite equally with other genres (e.g.: some with African, funk, soul, some with hip-hop, some even with non-black music genres), while others on the other hand adhere almost “strictly” to reggae music, and do not get into much else. Some like roots reggae more than dancehall or vice versa. There are even reggae fans – believe it or not - who do not smoke the “ganja herb”.

Furthermore, some have an interest or sympathy for the related subject of Rastafari, some do not, or even despise it. The latter, despise, I find somewhat odd since Rastafari is not the same as reggae, but is nonetheless connected to it.

These differences (and similarities) between and among reggae fans/lovers intrigue me, also in relation to personal backgrounds. That’s the reason why I would like to interview specific individuals who love reggae.

Before this I have interviewed 7 persons – reggae lovers I know, “breddas” (meaning “brothers”, or "friends" in Jamaican parlance) of mine – here in the Netherlands.

I started the series on this blog with a post of June 2012, when I interviewed Abenet. In April of 2013 I interviewed Bill. After this I interviewed Manjah Fyah, in May 2014. For my blog post of August 2015, I interviewed, somewhat more extensively, (DJ) Rowstone (Rowald). In August 2016, then, I interviewed Vega Selecta. In October 2017 I interviewed DJ Ewa. Then, for my post of September 2018, I interviewed for the first time a woman, namely Empress Messenjah or Empress Donna Lee.

SOUND CISTA

This time, close to August 2019, I interview another “sista” of mine, whom I know from the Amsterdam reggae scene. Her name is Carol Samson, also known under her selectress/dee-jay name Sound Cista or Sound-Cista. Carol is partly of Surinamese descent.

I chose to interview her, because I in time saw and heard her play as deejay/selectress more and more – these last years - , mainly at the Reggae-minded club Café the Zen, in Amsterdam East. She did also do other things in/for that Café. She also played on occasion in some other places and clubs in and around Amsterdam, and even outside of the Netherlands, as she got to play on a beach venue in the Spanish region of Valencia, not far from where the famous Rototom festival is held, in August 2018. She says she, as part of Jah Sister's (with DJ Jessi), will play there, in Valencia, Spain, again this year 2019, later this month (the 25th of August).

Her musical selections as selectress I enjoyed a lot, with a focus on good New Roots, and sometimes older Roots, by artists like Bushman, Lutan Fyah, Morgan Heritage, Capleton or Richie Spice.

Moreover, we spoke quite often the last years, in nice, open conversations, about Reggae music, but also life in general. Still, there is more than enough I do not know about her yet, arousing my curiosity. Underneath the photo you’ll see my questions and her answers, translated to English.

Where were you born and did you grow up?

I was born in Amsterdam. Before I reached the age of 1, we moved to Suriname. When I was 6 years old we returned to the Netherlands. I grew up in Amsterdam South East (de “Bijlmer”).

Since when do you listen Reggae music?

Since I was 15 years old I came into contact with Reggae Music. That is: other Reggae music than Bob Marley’s or Peter Tosh’s.

What attracted you to it, then?

The beat/rhythm and its lyrics. Reggae’s song lyrics were more about life, attracting me more than mainstream pop on the Dutch radio (like Hilversum 3).

What other music genres did you listen to?

I listened sometimes to what was in the hit parades, preferring most soul, funk, R&B, hip-hop. At home with my parents, growing up, I heard Salsa, Merengue, Bachata, and Bigi Poku (Surinamese music). From my period in Suriname, as a child, I remember that my parents also used to play a lot of Soul music, by Otis Redding, Percy Sledge, Al Green, the Temptations, Aretha Franklin, Oscar Harris, and Ray Charles.

Has there been a change in your musical preferences since then?

Yes, I also like old school hip-hop and rap, fado music, bossa nova, but I listen most to Reggae

Do you have any preferences within the broad Reggae genre? Does, e.g., Digital Dancehall appeal to you as much as Roots Reggae?

I love Roots Reggae, “conscious” Reggae, both old and new. I really have no affinity with Dancehall. It does not even resemble Reggae anymore, in my personal opinion.

Is there really no Dancehall you like?

Some Dancehall songs are okay, as long as it is no slackness. I like for instance What If by Busy Signal. Overall, however, I do not really see it as Reggae; I really love Roots Reggae, nice basslines, and music that touches you. I don’t have that with Dancehall..

Since when are you a Reggae selectress/dee-jay?

I bought my first dj mixer in 2014. In 2016 I played for the first time for an audience in Café the Zen (Amsterdam), on “open decks” evenings. In November 2017 I got every first Saturday of the month as regular playing gig in Café the Zen. That was the birth of Jah Sister’s, as I play since then every first Saturday of the month with my dj sis Dj Jessi.

How do you consider the gender (male-female) balance among Reggae deejay’s/selecta’s in Amsterdam/the Netherlands?

I know (Empress) Donna Lee as first female Reggae deejay/selectress in the Netherlands. In the present time, there are quite some more lady Reggae deejay’s/selectresses than before, in the Netherlands.

It is still a bit skewed and unbalanced, however. Most deejay’s are still men. That does not always need to be a problem, though. I played/spinned together with several deejay’s, and do not notice that much difference.

Are you active in other ways within the Reggae scene as well? E.g. radio, organizing events or otherwise?

For years I was a decent mother, caring for two children. When they left the house, I started doing more with my music hobby. I have been collecting Reggae music for years and wanted to do something with it.

Nowadays, I also promote the events of Café the Zen on Facebook, at times make a line-up in the case of different events on one night, or assist in other things when something is organized in Café the Zen. Furthermore, I make flyers for Jah Sisters, or for other deejay’s/selecta’s who do not have time for it.

I have also been a guest a few times on radio programmes.

Do you have a preference for Vinyl or Digital/CD? As listener and as selecta/selectress?

I have a preference for Digital carriers: vinyl requires too much weight and space. So, headphones and USB sticks, though I also always carry some CDs with me, and can play with anything: digital and vinyl, even cassette, if needed. In that sense, I am well versatile. To listen to, I appreciate both Digital and Vinyl.

Why the selecta name Sound Cista?

“Sound” from, well, sound, and Cista from “Sister”, changing the first S to C, from my personal name Carol. Sound Sister.

Does the Rastafari message in much of Reggae appeal to you? How does this relate to your own background, or beliefs?

I am not a Rastafari, nor do I have any religious conviction as such. I do however not eat any meat. In addition, I also do try to live in harmony with others. Regrettably, I notice that many – also in the Reggae scene – are polluted with the “Babylon” mindset, being very envious of others. They do not practice what they preach!

I mention this, because as a dee-jay/selecta/selectress, you come across a lot of envy and jealousy, people begrudging you, crossing you, or slandering your name.

I really do not have time for such “Babylon” things, and prefer to give my energy to positive people, on the same level and wavelength. The rest is unimportant for me, only distracting me from my mission: promoting Reggae, unity, and one love.

What kind of music (reggae) do you prefer to listen to now – at this moment -, what specific artists? Any new “discoveries” you would like to mention?

I prefer listening to Reggae, as I always searching for good music. In the past, Barrington Levy, Price Far I, Garnett Silk, Capleton, Lutan Fyah, Morgan Heritage, LMS, and Richie Spice were artists I listened to often.
Nowadays I hear a lot of beautiful songs, by both known or even totally unknown artists. At the present I listen, for instance, to the song Brother’s Keeper by Jerone, and Music Alone, by Ginjah.

REFLECTION AND COMPARISON

I myself now learned somewhat more about Sound Cista, or Carol, though she told me some of this before personally already. I hope the reader got to know now more about the woman behind the selectress Sound Cista, how she became a selectress, and her specific tastes and stances within the Reggae scene.

Her taste – and therefore her selection as selectress/deejay – are not so different from mine, being the reason why I personally enjoy her sets.

I prefer Roots Reggae over Dancehall too, although I focus perhaps a bit more on the Older Roots Reggae from the 1970s and 1980s. I am a Reggae (vinyl) selecta too, at times, and tend to play relatively a lot of chunes from the early 1980s or Late 1970s (by artists like Culture, Hugh Mundell, the Mighty Diamonds, the Itals, Twinkle Brothers, Don Carlos, or Pablo Moses) besides current New Roots by artists like Sizzla, Bushman, or Queen Ifrica. Sound Cista plays varied too, but a bit more focused on New Roots.

There is a bit more Dancehall I like, maybe, when compared to Sound Cista, though it is neither my main love within Reggae. So in that sense we roughly coincide, and seem to be kindred spirits.

COOPERATION

The jealousy and envy – and lack of cooperation - she mentions among Reggae deejay’s, is also noteworthy. I heard about it before, also from others.

Those kind of negative human character traits can be found among all humans and in all activities (workplace, hobbies, art, and elsewhere), but in the Reggae scene it is a bit more disturbing, in light of the espoused One Love and Unity in it, some claim to uphold. Of course, this then starts to reek of hypocrisy and hollow words. Many do not practice what they preach, Sound Cista justly says.

The lacking cooperation in the local (in this case Amsterdam/Netherlands) Reggae scene is also mentioned by other people I interviewed for my blog before, such as DJ Ewa, as well as others.

Kind of a ego-minded, self-interested “cowboy mentality”, I have called it before, and it’s there certainly, which is a pity. If you really have talent yourself, or work on it, you do not need to begrudge or keep down others, I often think.

Yet, there is besides this also enough cooperation within the Amsterdam Reggae scene, as selectas tend to combine and play together, or have so, on several events. Often changing combinations, in Café the Zen (Amsterdam), or elsewhere. Positive movements!

This goes even beyond gender or racial distinctions.
Nonetheless, some note in Amsterdam a distinction - or even division - between a Reggae scene with events dominated by White people (including foreigners, and some connected to the squatter scene), and one by Black people, dominated by Black people, mostly local Surinamese or African people (as audience and selecta’s), and with a matching different song selection or clubs to visit. Less Dub and more New Roots for a more Black audience, for instance.

I notice a bit of that distinction, but do not see it as that significant. Good music is good music, and good Reggae is good Reggae. It is all Black music, overall, in its cultural and musical characteristics. The harmony vocals from Older Reggae like of the Wailing Souls, the Viceroys, the Abyssinians, or the Mighty Diamonds are heard maybe more on some “White-dominated” Reggae events, nowadays, but on the other hand exemplify the beautiful African and Afro-Caribbean vocal (and percussive!) “call-and-response” characteristic, quite typical in Black music, to give an example.

I miss those harmony and call-and-response vocals a bit in current Reggae (with much more sole singers than groups), though I like much of the New Roots too nonetheless, because of the many talented artists, good grooves and musicianship, intelligent lyrics, and strong songs being released by Jamaican artists in recent times too.

Sound Cista certainly plays a lot of these great songs as selectress..

Young, Gifted, and Black

As Jamaican music became international over time, for obvious reasons Great Britain became the first hub of this internationalization, especially with regards to Europe.

True, “Bredda Bob” (Marley) and his popularity ended up doing a lot for Reggae’s international, worldwide spread since the mid-1970s. Jamaican music, however, came at least a decade before that, the 1960s, already to parts of Britain with Jamaican migrants to Britain, including also Reggae’s musical 1960s precursors Ska and Rocksteady.

It did however not remain a cultural heritage closed to outsiders: it influenced and reached British popular culture and White Britons, especially youth movements, already in the later 1960s.

Not unlike how earlier Black culture of the Jazz age in the US became seen as a “cool” model to follow for some hip White people, or how Rock & Roll followed out of African American Rhythm & Blues, Black culture became cool and “hip” among some young, white subgroups in parts of Britain: first Jazz and R&B, later Caribbean music, like Ska.

TROJAN RECORDS

In all this, the Trojan record label had a crucial role. I recently read a book about this British label – founded in 1968 - focussed on Reggae, with the title ‘Young, Gifted, and Black : the story of Trojan Records’ (Omnibus Press, 2018), after the UK hit of Bob (Andy) and Marcia (Griffiths) of that title (cover of a Nina Simone song). This song reached number 5 in the UK national chart, in 1970. This book was written by Michael de Koningh & Laurence Cane-Honeysett.

The book itself was readable and interesting, if somewhat chaotic and lacking of direction and structure. I have been used to scholarly works, with sometimes “too much direction and structure”, but the other extreme proved here neither to be very nice and stimulating to read. The timeframe is followed, a structure somehow there, but further many details are given, specific anecdotes told, about how the label started , people involved etcetera.. I often thought, however: “why is this told?”.. I did not think: “who cares?”: - that would be too harsh -, but did find difficulty sometimes to fit stories and facts in the book in the wider whole.

Overall, however, the book did give an interesting view on Jamaican music’s early spread in Britain.

Trojan was actually in its origins and finance connected to Chris Blackwell’s Island record label, and likewise White (and Indian) people were in charge in Trojan records too, using the talents of Black Jamaican people for selling records. Definitely skewed, of course, but common.

Lyrically strongly Rastafari-influenced Roots Reggae arose in Jamaica especially after 1972, and this book deals with also the period before that: earlier Jamaican Ska and Rocksteady or Reggae since the 1960s, with mostly love and party – sometimes social - lyrics, but with a Jamaican touch.

EARLY REGGAE

Early Reggae, arising around 1968, was relatively faster than later Reggae, and even often faster when compared to earlier Rocksteady. It had a certain energy, of course connected to new dances. Songs by Toots & The Maytals like Pressure Drop, Reggae Got Soul, or Do The Reggae are examples of Early Reggae, if Gospel-influenced. Other Early Reggae, such as by the Ethiopians, showed other, rural/folk (Mento) influences, but Early Reggae had a specific organ shuffle, higher-notes bass lines, and semi-fast rhythmic structures, among its recurring elements.

This Early Reggae seemed to be a specialty of Trojan Records, managing to release Ska, Rocksteady, and Early Reggae songs that became hits in Britain, and not just among Jamaican migrants there, by the likes of Prince Buster, Laurel Aitken, Ken Boothe, Dandy Livingstone, Desmond Dekker, the already mentioned Toots & the Maytals, the Pioneers, Lee Perry’s Upsetters, and some other artists. Most of these were Jamaican, but some of them settled in Britain.

As a “Reggae scene” is more than just fans of a genre, it should also include own artists, and those soon arose too, but not at first: mostly Jamaicans recorded songs for Trojan records to sell and produce. To reach the White market, the original Jamaican sound needed to be adapted to European and British tastes. The addition of strings, also to Bob & Marcia’s Young Gifted And Black, being an example of this. This consisted of an Europeanization, apparently, although violins were known in some Jamaican folk music . Further adaptations were also made at Trojan Records in order to reach different groups, and widen the market.

Some of the public groups Trojan was aimed at, consisted of new youth movements among White Britons, fads or fashions – or scenes -, such as the Mods in the 1950s and 1960s, and the Skinheads after them. The Mods were fashion-conscious, semi-intellectual and hip Jazz, R&B, and other Black music lovers (including Ska), but with expensive tastes.

The latter explaining perhaps the rise of another youth movement a bit later in Britain, since the late 1960s, partly an offshoot of those “Mods”, but more labour class: the “Skinheads”. These had often a preference for Jamaican and other Black music, including Ska, Rocksteady, and Early Reggae.

SKINHEAD REGGAE

This even gave rise to a subcategory within Reggae, some recognize and some not, known as “Skinhead Reggae”. Some authors – “Reggae historians” - just describe it as Early, faster Reggae lyrically aimed at skinheads. Some describe it musically as a phase between Rocksteady and Early Reggae. I myself still don’t know quite how to define it, although I know some examples of songs popular with Skinheads (Toots & the Maytals’ Pressure Drop, or the Ethiopians’ super-catchy What A Fire, for instance).

The connection to Jamaican music stayed a while among these skinheads, but the increased influence of Rastafari and Black nationalism on reggae and its messages after 1972, created a distancing of most white skinheads from what would be Roots Reggae. The song Selassie, by the Upsetters/Reggae boys, was one of the few songs musically in the Skinhead Reggae vein, but lyrically about Rastafari, that was popular among the skinheads. Another one was Laurel Aitken’s Haile Selassie.

Yet, as Rastafari-influenced Roots Reggae began to arise and dominate Jamaican music, a part of the skinheads lost interest.

Trojan records did not bet on this one horse, however, and sought like other companies to broaden its market, for more monetary gain, during the following decades , including Roots-focussed compilation albums, that however always maintained one foot in the preceding Early Reggae phase.

I know some of these compilations, such as A Place Called Africa, with songs about the African motherland, showing how even artists once popular with skinheads (like Desmond Dekker), lyrically could still be conscious and true to themselves, while also including songs of Roots icons (Dennis Brown, Junior Byles, Sugar Minott) Trojan also released..

EARLY INTERNATIONALIZATION

In reality, this was the earliest phase of Jamaican music’s internationalization. Jamaican migrants sometimes mingled with White Britons in some youth scenes: there were even Black skinheads, such as in bigger cities like London and Birmingham. This influenced the tastes of some white British youth. This would remain in later scenes in the 1970s and 1980s, such as the Punk movement, with bands like the Clash clearly borrowing from Reggae.

One moral problem, though, is that the Skinhead movement later got in a bad light, as Extreme Right and White Nationalists groups co-opted it partly, making many skinheads synonymous with anti-foreigner stances in Britain. This was not movement-wide, but did cause mistrust. The hooliganism from early on by some violent skinheads neither did help. There seem to have been, though, many non-racist skinheads, with just their own cultural interests and labour-class affiliations, some in to Black music, like Reggae. Perhaps predictably: some would become Punks.

The skinhead-aimed reggae hits released by Trojan, became British hits, at least in clubs or underground, and on occasion reached the national charts. Some reached outside Britain to become small hits in countries like the Netherlands, Belgium, or Germany, but not often.

Reggae’s much wider internationalization, of course came with Marley’s rising popularity during the 1970s, spreading reggae throughout the world, far beyond just Britain or even the US. It also put Jamaica on the map, outside of Britain.

Jamaica, a small island that the British captured in the 17th century, soon became a plantation-driven island, with the use of imported enslaved Africans, making today that over 90% of Jamaicans are of mostly sub-Saharan African descent. Jamaica remained a British colony until the 1962 independence, but ties remained, also due to migrations.

Racism in Britain was rife, and the arrival of West Indian migrants in the 1950s to a “White Man Country” like Britain, caused some hostility, even violence, against new Black residents.

The interesting thing about someone like Linton Kwesi Johnson is that this is a theme in his lyrics: the acceptance of Black people in British society over time, persisting, subtle or less-subtle racism and discrimination etcetera. Songs like Inglan Is A Bitch, It Noh Funny, and several others relate this.

CONCLUSION

This early popularity of Jamaican music on which Trojan records partly capitalized with 1960s and 1970s hits, among multiracial groups, even going to multiracial clubs, must of course not be idealized as “one big racial harmony”. Rather, it can be seen as a hopeful sign of people coming together through culture and music, beyond race, in an otherwise racist, pro-White British society that it was.

That many White skinheads or other more trendy Reggae fans lost interest with rising Rastafari influence is less positive, though.

Rastafari is after all a Jamaican cultural and spiritual movement, focused on Africa, related to Black people’s own history and identity. As Reggae it is a part of Jamaican culture.

A pity that the open mind seemed not so open for an own expression and culture, other than their own. Maybe some more White people would have learned early on this way about the history of slavery, or larger history, but such lyrics distracted them apparently from their want of dynamic “pumping” Reggae grooves in line with their white skinhead lifestyle. A bit in the same disrespectful vein as those men joking about their women, saying: “I like to have sex with her, but she likes to talk too much about her problems..”.

Some white Reggae fans in Britain may have indeed opened their mind with Reggae lyrics, even in this early wave, or perhaps even through having Black friends.

A later stage of Reggae’s internationalization, the 1970s, with Bob Marley’s and other Roots Reggae artists’ fame (Dennis Brown, Culture, a.o.) was in another cultural context (hippy movement and social criticism), while some anti-authority lyrics in Reggae - in fact quite common – appealed to some in the following, 1980s Punk movement, with their own purposes and interpretations, but hey.. Late 1970s Roots Reggae songs, like Junior Murvin’s Police and Thieves, and Culture’s Two Sevens Clash were hits among Black Britons, but also among many Punks.

Reggae never “sold out”, due to the “honesty” of Rastafari-influenced and socially critical lyrics. Even Bob Marley, while commercially promoted by Island Records, kept true to these lyrics and messages against oppression of Black people.

Musically, Chris Blackwell cum suis, made some adaptations to the Wailers’ original Jamaican Reggae sound, to suit supposed “White tastes”, of Rock fans, this time.

At Trojan records, this occurred too, as the book ‘Young, Gifted, and Black’ relates. This included adding of strings in Britain to early, “rougher”, Reggae songs, while the changes by Island and Blackwell to Bob’s sound are also known and by now well-documented. I wrote about this on this blog too. Not much use, therefore, repeating it all here..

In short, production, mixing, and adding of instruments to suit White tastes occurred. The added instruments were now not strings or violins. In fact, I do not know of any Bob Marley song with violins. I think some electric guitar solos were added with a White (“Rock”) audience in mind, though there are also “quality” solos between them (like on the song Heathen), irrespective of the race it is aimed at.

All this helped Reggae to crossover, and eventually (by the late 1970s), once “crossed over” to other races and cultures, it became respected also by many White fans “on its own terms”, listening to the lyrics, and many White people started to consider themselves Rastafari, even though it essentially started as Black Power movement. Many even respectful, and not for fashion-sake, with proper knowledge to back it up.

This scepsis about “White Rastas” is all-too understandable, as White people throughout history more than once “copied to take over” what is not theirs. Yet, if respectful and sincere, it is another sign of hope of people coming together, joining as one, irrespective of racial or other background, against injustice. The surrounding British society is in the present (2010s) a bit more democratic and multicultural, but still in many ways racist, and pro-White (Britons). The whole Brexit issue showed that too.

The period on which the book , ‘Young, Gifted, and Black’ centers, the 1960s and 1970s, was in that sense harsher, though young White and Black Britons hesitantly came together in clubs, became friends, through music.

This was still exceptional, as it was also common that the first mixed-raced (black-white) couples in British streets in the 1960s were insulted, and often even chased or even beaten up by White men and youths. The demeaning entry signs on many pubs and other locales throughout Britain, “No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs”, have really existed, and were no invention, as some said. Historical photos have been taken and films shot of these discriminatory texts at entrances.

In such a context, this early reach of reggae of white markets, by Trojan Records, can be deemed as remarkable and innovative.

This quite recent (2018) work: ‘Young, Gifted, and Black : the story of Trojan Records’ gives some of these social glimpses and insights, but is overall more for the practical mind, than for the sociologically or scholarly interested. Many facts or events are described in business terms, how to gain profit, reach markets, business plans, legal rights, managerial choices.. Even music and the songs themselves get relatively little attention, and all the more whether it sold.

Their choice, but I personally do not find that interesting or pleasant reading material. I am more interested in culture than in business, more in humanity and life than in money.

The book is well-documented, on the other hand, including for a large part comprehensive lists of all Trojan releases, possibly of interest to record collectors.