Word Power

I have a somewhat odd relationship with the country France. Mainly, during my life, I got to see it as the country “in-between”. Purely practical that is. Being half-Spanish and living in the Netherlands, we (I and family) often went to Spain, at first for years by car or bus, and had to go through France, of course a much bigger country than Belgium.

France therefore felt principally like (no disrespect intended) a larger hurdle to overcome. Our minds were not totally closed, and we looked around when we had to sojourn in France. As we usually crossed the border on the west-side, near Irun (Basque country), the “half-way stop” we chose mostly was in the broad south-western area of France: roughly between Poitiers and Bordeaux. I also remember us staying somewhat more to the south, in or near the French Basque country (in Spain itself we still had some way to go). I myself went a time alone to Spain by train, through France, but with the exception of a few hours in central Paris as a stopover, I spent little time in France: I went to see different parts of Spain, and France was a large country I had to pass through. Again, no disrespect for the French, but I had specific interests and connections I chose to focus on because of my background.

Regarding culture and society, France became in my mind the “other” Latin-speaking country. Culturally also between Northern Europe and Southern Europe. Different from the Spain of my maternal background, as well as from the Italy of my paternal background. French is a Latin/Romance language but not one I was very fluent in. Further, there were vague associations of a culture of food, perfume, certain art forms, and fashion I got through media about France.

Recently I chose France – for a change – as a travel destination. Again (see other posts), there is a reggae connection: I flew on Marseille and also wanted to go to Avignon. Nearby Avignon there was, in the village of Bagnols-sur-Cèze, the Garance reggae festival: one of the biggest of Europe. Interesting, big names like Burning Spear, Sly & Robbie, Clinton Fearon (former Gladiators), Midnite, Willie Williams, and others were scheduled to perform. This influenced my decision to go to that part of France. It did hardly define the whole trip, though. I went to travel and see another part of Europe I knew not too much about. Though it is and remains true that “I go where reggae is”, my travelling goals were in this case broader.

The Garance reggae festival is one of the biggest of Europe. It was held between 27 and 30 July in 2011, and roughly around that time I flew to Marseille: the biggest city of the Provence in South France, and the second-biggest in France, with more than a million inhabitants. The biggest port as well. It is historically the oldest French city, founded by Greeks.

Later I would go to inland Provence, to Avignon, nearer to the festival. Avignon itself was known for its theatre culture, and there was during most of July a theatre festival in the town of Avignon, which has about 90.000 inhabitants. I read in Dutch newspaper ‘de Volkskrant’ that this theatre festival’s origin dates back to 1947, then meant to revive post-war French art life.

LANGUAGE BARRIER

I (unfortunately) reencountered a phenomenon throughout all this that I almost forgot about for a time: the language barrier. I’m not fluent in French, had it at school until I was about 20, and learned some, but not extensively. I found out again how it is to not be able to talk freely and extensively, to having many options of speaking your mind, and expressing yourself with the locals. I spoke some French, and at times English, but it went a bit difficult, and remained necessarily too often superficial and practical.

You cannot deny the importance of language. It is related to what some Rastas call “word power”. More existentially, this means that speaking words in itself has the power to create. The Bible even seems to start with this premise: “In the beginning was the word, and the word was God”. As most Rastas find that Jah (or God) is within oneself, and is a living man, you could in some way argue that Jah “in I” is silenced, because of a language barrier. Limited as I life force. To a degree, of course. In any case, you get somewhat excluded from surrounding society and, well, people.

MARSEILLE

Marseille broadly seemed to respond to a northern Mediterranean atmosphere. It is hard to grasp the cultural tenets, though I got an idea. The French culture seems to pay much attention to “the refined”, to “form”, or “style” in the broad sense. This is evident in the French cuisine, as in other, daily customs. Courtesy is also valued high, however superficial. For instance in greeting when entering a store, “bonjour”, and the way how you say thank you. Arguably, in my experience, people in Spain seemed more “informal” in their overall demeanour and behaviour. This is not the same as being “rude”: Spanish seemed just as friendly and respectful, but in another way, maybe comparable to how you talk with your friends or team mates. In France, social customs seemed more distant and formal.

In other ways, Marseille is a modern, multicultural European city. A port-city like Bristol, which I discussed also on this blog. The specific colonial past of France comes to the fore in the type of non-European immigrants. Relatively many from Algeria and Morocco (geographically not too far of course), but also from sub-Saharan Africa, the Comoros Islands, and Vietnam (for a period a French colony as not everyone seems to know). Multicultural means in most cases not living among people of different backgrounds, but rather living quite apart from other ethnic groups, concentrated in specific quarters/neighbourhoods, dominated numerically by specific ethnicities/cultures (or religions). The same applies to other cities in Europe of course.

The area around the main train station St-Charles, not too far east of the Old Harbour and centre of Marseille, is largely inhabited by people originally from the Maghreb: Algerians and Moroccans, with Islam being an important religion.

The Old Harbour (Vieux Port) in Marseille’s centre has a different, more Mediterranean feel from the Harbour I saw in Bristol: lighter, yellow-ish, and less sombre colours than Bristol’s canals and harbours. The Old Harbour – however – is not used as a commercial, industrial port anymore. The modern, economic port is located more to the northern outskirts of Marseille.

A view on Marseille's Vieux Port (Old Harbour)





Architecture can be interesting, because it is the most obvious material sign of a culture and society. The Provence region of South France seems to be characterized by yellow-ish, pink-ish “light” colours: lighter and more southern/Mediterranean than, say, Bristol or Amsterdam. Yet, it is also different from Spanish cities. There were similarities with parts of Italy, but it was neither the same as, say, Pisa, where I have been.

I am however not so much an “architecture buff” as I am a “museum buff” (to use Lonely Planet-travel guide parlance). I like visiting different museums. I did it in Marseille and Avignon as well.

I’ve visited several interesting museums during the trip. In Marseille’s Le Panier quarter (the Montmartre of Marseilles, they say) there was an exhibition on Orientalism in French paintings: how especially French painters saw the Orient: the Middle East, North Africa.

It was very interesting. The term orientalism was of course by Edward Said, who was most probably an interesting and versatile, innovative thinker. One thing bothered me, though, from my perspective. Marcus Garvey – in time preceding Said – broadly pointed at some of the same things or principles as Said, only earlier: how the West saw the rest of the world from their cultural perspective and their (colonial) interests in mind. Garvey focused on the colonial project as it affected sub-Saharan Africa more than the Orient. Garvey receives overall nonetheless much less academic interest than Said. Unjustly, I think.

Furthermore, it is definitely not the case that the Orient was “ravaged” by European colonialism more than sub-Saharan Africa. On the contrary: let us think of the extensive slave trade alone affecting millions in black Africa, by both Europeans and Arabs.

A view on Marseille's Le Panier quarter






After a few days Marseille, I went to Avignon, about 80 kilometres north/inland, on the river Rhone.

AVIGNON

It was “theatre month”- as each July, in Avignon. This means that there are many performances in the several theatres in the town – which has normally about 90.000 inhabitants -, and many artists and performers on the street, most promoting their plays/pieces to be seen in the theatres.

Central Avignon, late July 2011






I found it fun and interesting to see so many street performances. These ranged from musically to visually artistic, the juggling, the acrobatic, the literary, and everything in between. Dancers, capoeira, street dance, a guy dancing with a silver, seemingly floating ball by his hand. Music from Amerindians, to African music - such as from the Senegambia region - , to traditional or classical French, pianists, Flamenco-like Spanish guitar players... Some of it sounded really good.

GARANCE

Then there was the other festival: the Garance reggae festival. Partly unconsciously I wanted to compare it with the other festival I went to in 2010 in Spain: the Rototom reggae festival in Eastern Spain, Benicassim, held in August, discussed also on my (this) blog. In both cases I heard the same: this is the biggest reggae festival of Europe. Of neither festival I went every single day, but having been there substantial parts of the festivals and knowing the programmes, I am quite sure that I can say this: Rototom in Spain (formerly Italy), is bigger than Garance in France. Rototom lasts more days (namely 6) and has more artists and concerts. Concerts that are even relatively long for festivals. Garance, in comparison, lasted 4 days, and the premises/terrain also opened later than in Benicassim/Rototom. There were at both festivals quite some reggae concerts of different artists, of course, which is more important than who is biggest. There were however also organizational differences.

The festival terrain








Another flaw, maybe, of the Garance festival is its somewhat isolated location. It is held in the town Bagnols-sur-Cèze, about 40 kilometers from Avignon. It does not have an own train station (Avignon being one of the nearest), and public transportation is too limited: like Rototom concerts tended to end close to 3 o’clock in the morning, but you cannot get out of Bagnols at that time (save by expensive taxi). That would not be a problem if the accommodation in Bagnols was extensive, but there was few when compared to Benicassim, laying on the much-visited Spanish Valencian coast. Besides this, the Garance festival had no debates or forums: it could have been more intellectual (with more word power?).

Nonetheless - I’m done complaining now - I eventually could go 2 out of the 4 days, and saw concerts of Burning Spear, a Studio One revue (Lone Ranger, Prince Jazzbo, Willie Williams, King Stitt and others). “Oldest living deejay” King Stitt was introduced as no less than “the first rapper in history” (Well, I think...no, that’s maybe a topic for another post). Unfortunately, these latter did not perform with a live band, but with a deejay playing Studio One riddims. The sound was good (though not perfect: I think e.g. the sound of the snare drum – not unimportant in reggae – could be better), and it was still fun to see these deejay-ing veterans.

King Stitt on stage








Burning Spear had a characteristically good show, good band (he tends to take his own band for concerts), and good sound. Winston Rodney is still very active and seems motivated. High points for me included some songs, including the song ‘Marcus Garvey’. I think this song’s “crucial” horns and strong riddim did it, along with its meaning/lyrics. About the Jamaican black leader who receives less attention than Edward Said.



The second day I went to Clinton Fearon (formerly of the Gladiators), rocksteady veteran Ken Boothe, British-based fusion/reggae artist Natty, Jimmy Cliff (I saw only part of it), Sly and Robbie and Junior Reid, and Midnite. Clinton Fearon had a great concert, Ken Boothe was nice, Natty had its moments (not all though), Sly & Robbie was mostly great, and somewhat shortly Junior Reid appeared on stage, which was a good, but later chaotic performance. I saw a large part of the late concert of Midnite (beginning after 1 o’clock at night).

Clinton Fearon on stage







Clinton Fearon and the first part of Sly & Robbie was of these concerts the most impressive to me. Midnite - from the US Virgin Islands - was nice, but they have a distinct, sobre style, which combines the experimental with the laid-back. An acquired taste, perhaps. This no-frills and “reasoning” sound is very much their own and in that sense unique. Yet, after about a half an hour it got somewhat monotonous. Plus it was late, by then.

Screen with main stage concert of Midnite






Furthermore, there were different stands, such as a good place for Ital - Rastafari, natural/vegetarian - food - where I had a great Ital meal with sweet potatoes, and a deejay, with mostly nice tunes and a good sound (Jamaican sound system-style: think high, piled up loud speakers, heavy bass).

Back in Avignon, I visited some museums (again), such as the extensive Curet museum of fine arts with also an interesting Egyptian exhibition along with paintings, and the former Papal palace (for a period Avignon apparently was a “second” Rome). Varied and cultural.

SYMBOLS AND/OR SIGNS?

For the last 3 nights I went back to Marseille, where I had to catch the plane. I visited more museums, such as on the Marseillaise (yes, the song: anthem of the French revolution, and now French national anthem, some maybe can mum it). It was in French, but I got the main content more or less. Interesting were the different versions – and uses - of the song. The next day I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art. The latter was outside the centre and quite a walk (I knew buses went, but I walked), passing the modern Olimpique de Marseille football/soccer club stadium, the Velodrome.

I could have taken the bus and partly the subway/metro to the Museum of Contemporary Art, but I saw on the map exactly how to walk. I find that pleasing somehow: to find my own way. I had to walk the Rue Paradis out to the end (by itself a few kilometres), from the Charles de Gaulle square in the centre where I had breakfast (actually it was 12:30 hours, but hey..). I walked the Rue Paradis out. Near the end of it I wanted to sit down and sought in a side street a place to rest. In a residential street I sat down, I was somewhat surprised (though not too much), to find a drawing of Martin Luther King’s face on a wall.

After resting I walked on on the Rue Paradis. Martin Luther King, “Paradise” street: symbolic it seems. I still had a few kilometres to go. After the Rue Paradis it was not long until I saw the stadium, which appeared somewhat more modern to me than another one I saw recently (of Spanish football/soccer club F.C. Sevilla). Both Olimpique Marseille and Sevilla can be qualified as “big” clubs, playing often in European leagues. For a long time now France fares economically better than Spain, but that is not saying much: Real Madrid and Barcelona are the richest football clubs of Europe. That’s another issue, though.

The Velodrome stadium







After the stadium I went to a quieter, greener part of Marseille, and after a few kilometres I found the Museum of Contemporary Art. It was very interesting and, some may find, comical. Like Andy Warhol and others many contemporary artists use modern-day objects (e.g. cardboard, tubes, car parts) and repackage them, or use other symbols, turning out seemingly “absurd”. Such as the art-work of a big stone “sleeping” in a (broke-down) bed. Contemporary art includes also photography. There were interesting photographs - such as of Dutch-Somali politician/activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali - alongside installations and paintings. Further, there was also a portrait in light (as installation) of Malcolm X from the 1960s.

Malcolm X in Marseille's Contempory Arts museum






Marcus Garvey, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, (Paradise Street, maybe the Egypt exhibition), more symbolic clues! Added to this can be the interesting work ‘King of the Zulus’ by Jean-Michel Basquiat, the Contemporary Art museum held.

More symbols along with this: the evening before I had a tasty dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, Axum, which was decorated with Ethiopian symbols. The Ethiopian lady who attended me (of the owning family) commented in French on my “Ethiopian” necklace, which included Haile Selassie I and Ethiopian flag colours. I saw this restaurant by chance - believe it or not - (I was looking for another restaurant that was closed). Add this as a symbolic, Rastafari connection to the ones I already mentioned. Mind you, most of these symbols I encountered by chance: I did not expect to see the Martin Luther King drawing in that street. I did not know what to expect in the Contemporary Art museum. I did not plan to go to the Ethiopian restaurant. Maybe I should have. Beyond symbols, were they signs?

View of Rue Paradis








How much did I walk to the Contemporary Art museum, about 5 kilometres? Still, I walked this distance back - past the stadium, Rue Paradis etc. - and did not take the bus. Back at my hotel I was a bit tired, but it was overall worth it, not just because of the symbols and/or signs, but they were part of it.

I strive mostly for rationality, and I think that symbols or signs are not always to be trusted, but here I appreciated the symbolic clues and signs. In the end, as language connects and gives meaning to (also visual) symbols, this can also be seen as a form of “word power”. A power which overcomes any language barrier.

Yet in practice, a language barrier remains annoying though, even alienating. Yet, signs and symbols guided me somehow.

Bristol Rock

For the first time in my life I recently went to Bristol, the biggest city in south western England. I visited Bristol - and surroundings – mainly out of a sort of curiosity. Of England I mainly visited London (a few times) and parts of Kent, and I wanted to see also other cities and parts. Plus, near to Bristol was Bath where Haile Selassie I lived when forced in exile after Mussolini’s invasion of Ethiopia.
I combined this trip further with a trip to Cardiff, neither too far from Bristol. Again out of curiosity.
Combined with a somewhat vague curiosity for an English harbour city there was the music scene that I heard of, including not always uninteresting (I know, a moderate complement) acts like Massive Attack and Tricky.

A variety of reasons, you might say. Regarding my favorite musical genre, reggae, - readers of this blog may have noticed this - I knew of the good song Juvenile Delinquent by Bristol-based roots reggae band Black Roots. Worth checking out! Like other British cities, Bristol has a Caribbean (mainly Jamaican) migrant population, I also knew.



As a quite typical port town Bristol of course had a lot of water, canals, bridges, and boats, set in a general North-Western European cultural context and atmosphere. This atmosphere is present in the weather, but also in the architecture and darker colours grey or brown for buildings and streets (or sometimes even interiors). The cultural context is present in its Protestant history, (historically tainted) Germanic/Teutonic traits (in England called Anglo-Saxon or Saxon), and in, for instance, the importance of beer. It is on the other hand also internationally influenced, partly because it is a port.

Water/river view in central Bristol





Some vague similarities were therefore certainly there with similar historical port cities in the Netherlands (where I live), such as Amsterdam or Rotterdam. There were also differences. In architecture, more accidented streets, and socioculturally. I went as said with a general curiosity: it was not - not specifically at least - a “reggae trip” or something like that. Yet still I naturally paid attention to reggae: in clubs, stores, people etcetera, as I went along.

Like other places in former colonizing countries, Bristol’s history is tainted. There is a burden of shame, as since the late 17th c. and especially in the 18th c. the Bristol port was strongly involved in the slave trade. Ships sailed from Bristol to Africa to “load up” Africans as slaves, and carry them to British colonies in the Caribbean. This was part of the so-called triangular trade. For a period Bristol was the main port of England in this slave trade, along with London. Later this role was taken over by Liverpool. African human-beings were treated largely as chattel. Before this whites, especially undesirable ones, were also shipped as servants from Bristol to British colonies in not too good conditions, as Eric Williams describes chronologically in his seminal work ‘Capitalism and Slavery’.

With this past in mind I, while striving for my own mental health to rationality, felt there were bad, demonic spirits hanging over tainted Bristol somehow. Ultimately this could depress me. This feeling did not become too dominant though. Mainly because Bristol is a modern, international, and multicultural city characterized by variety in several ways. It seems even to a degree a hospitable place, open to visitors. It is less touristic – in numbers – than my hometown Amsterdam, yet seemed to accomodate some tourism, or maybe it seemed so because it had a cosmopolitan air.

(Upper) Park street, another (western) part of central Bristol


DEMOGRAPHICS AND RACE

Bristol is multicultural, including an Indian and Pakistani population, relatively many Somali immigrants, West Africans, relatively many from the Yoruba parts of Nigeria, as well as a historically somewhat older West Indian/Afro-Caribbean population. Jamaican and other Caribbean migrants especially came to Britain already since the 1950s.

I found out, e.g. by reading in the Bristol central library, that the West Indian/Caribbean population of Bristol is substantial (slightly above the British national average), though small compared with other British cities. The total of Bristolians called black or black British (including later African migrants, I suppose) is 2,9 % of its (the city) around 433.000 inhabitants. The black population was relatively concentrated in the city’s central St Paul area.
By comparison, Birmingam has a population of 6,7 % black or black British inhabitants. More than double. Manchester about 5,2%. Also the Dutch capital Amsterdam has a relatively high proportion of black (defined as of sub-Saharan origin) inhabitants – including Creole Surinamese, West African immigrants and others - even surpassing proportionally London or Paris.

Despite these figures, Bristol has a relatively important place in black British history. Not only due to the slave trade history, but also in relation to more recent racial tensions and struggles. One of the earliest riots in Britain in the 1980s against racial discrimination by blacks was in Bristol, as well as other protests and appeals against racial discrimination that was quite present in Bristol, such as in housing and job-hiring practices.

On a side note, also the Welsh capital Cardiff, which I also visited one day, has a quite substantial black population. It has even one of the oldest black communities of Britain, also – as in English cities - with historical discrimination and segregation problems.
This background seemed relevant to me as I focussed also on the reggae scene. Reggae “gone international” and to a degree multiracial and multiracial – of course – but is still relatively more popular among blacks in general and maybe more so among people of Jamaican and Caribbean descent. For obvious reasons, you may say. It is and remains Afro-Caribbean music.

BRISTOL AND REGGAE

The focus was further stimulated by a music album I came across and purchased in Bristol, based on the Bristol roots reggae scene: ‘The Bristol reggae explosion : 1978-1983’, a compilation released in 2011. Apparently there had been such an “explosion”, with several recording and performing musical groups of black Bristolians – or racially mixed groups - and an active reggae scene in Bristol itself. According to the sleeve notes that scene diminished after the covered 1978-1983 period. Of the 3 “reggae-minded” clubs in Bristol in that period, for instance, only one presently remains. The period of the album’s songs was by the way one with racial tensions, giving it a social dimension.

I already mentioned the group Black Roots: it is justly included in this compilation, including the song Juvenile Delinquent. This great song seems to me an adequate “calling card” for Bristol-based roots reggae. Other artists and bands include Talisman – quite well-known (also by me) -, Joshua Moses, Restriction and others.

Reggae outside Jamaica, or specifically in Britain, is in my opinion a hit-or-miss affair. My favourite British-based reggae band has always been the roots band Misty In Roots, as I like most of their work, whereas of Aswad and Steel Pulse I only like some of their work. Linton Kwesi Johnson and Mad Professor are further both interesting in their own way. Other British reggae, however, I often find too cross-over or inauthentic to my taste, though not always.

In this light, how do I review this Bristol (roots) reggae compilation? It has a distinctive sound that seems to tipify British reggae (as opposed to Jamaican reggae), but if the songs are good that shouldn’t determine all. The opener Bristol Rock by Black Roots has that sound and a seeming similarity to the “brethren” Steel Pulse from Birmingham. At the same time it does sound to a degree authentically “rootsy” as far as reggae is concerned, and not too bland. The same can be said of the other Black Roots songs on this compilation, which are also catchy and “kept real”.
Joshua Moses sounds quite rootsy as well, ressembling Jamaican roots songs, and having catchy songs. I don’t know if Joshua Moses is still musically active (or alive) after all these years, but he shows talent in his catchy songs on this compilation.

Talisman sounds somewhat more “British”, especially in instrumentation, with songs that seem less catchy and chaotic. It is more difficult to judge as most their included songs are live versions.
Restriction has a British-Jamaican style of toasting vocals that is a matter of taste. It is not too bad, but neither seems too impressive or original (now?).

More “mellow” (lovers rock-ish) songs by the female singer Sharon Bengamin and by Buggs Durrant are not bad and quite catchy.
In fact, almost all songs on this compilation are at least okay, making it not a bad album. Some songs stand out, some I find nice, or just okay, not inaudible, but neither always very spectacular or impressive.

On a side note, I would consider a similar compilation on the Amsterdam reggae scene (also already longer active), historical or present, also very interesting to hear. I know of several Amsterdam-based (roots) reggae artists and bands that are/were active. You never know, maybe it will appear some day...

TRACK LIST:

1. Bristol Rock (Black Roots)
2. Africa (Is Our Land) (Joshua Moses)
3. Run Come Girl (Live) (Talisman)
4. Four Point Plan (Restriction)
5. Tribal War (12'' Mix) (Black Roots)
6. Restriction (Restriction)
7. Pretty Girl (Joshua Moses)
8. Wicked Dem (Live) (Talisman)
9. Nights of Passion (The Radicals)
10. Mr Guy (Sharon Bengamin)
11. Juvenile Delinquent (Black Roots)
12. Baby Come Back (Buggs Durrant)
13. Riot (3-D Production)
14. Dole Age (12'' Mix) (Talisman)

YES WE CAN

At the time of the election of Barack Obama, the 4th, or already 5th, of November 2008, as president of the United States I was in Jamaica, as part of a two-weeks vacation. I’ve been there before in late 2006, when I combined it with Cuba, and I made some friends in Kingston, Jamaica’s capital, off the main tourism zones in Jamaica.

When I returned in 2008 I met these friends and contacts again to get to know Jamaica better. My interest in Jamaica stemmed and stems primarily from my love, since my teens, for reggae music. Reggae as a genre originated in Jamaica and as I went more and deeper into reggae, starting with Bob Marley, but soon listening to many other artists, I naturally got to think of Jamaica, where all the lyrics were about or at least made, and the music arose. It must be for some reason that reggae took shape in that way on that island, I reasoned.

Anyway, I got to go to Jamaica, which is not very cheap, or easy, from Amsterdam, and Jamaican friends I made were even connected to the music industry, in some ways.
I chose November mainly because it was somewhat outside the busiest tourist season and at the end of the “hurricane season” (though still partly rainy). To get a relatively cheaper flight I had to book way in advance, I’m talking about a year or so, so it’s safe to say that I did not time it to coincide with the possible election of the first black/half-African president of the USA.

Jamaica is an island with currently about 2,8 million inhabitants, of which about 85% can be considered (mostly) black/of African descent, another (around the) 10% is “brown” (mixed European/African). USA as a big neighbour has been – for better or worse - very influential in the Caribbean, economically, politically, culturally, and as a migrant destination.
Put these things together and you can only conclude that the election of the first black US president must have a special significance in Jamaica, which added to my trip an unintended “journalistic” or “scholarly” dimension. I began to realize this as the date of my trip came closer.



Welcome to Kingston (and US economic influence..)

The question is then: what did I notice? I arrived a day before the 2008 general elections in the US, and got settled soon, so my mind could focus on this what could be perceived as “history in the making”. The probability of Obama winning the elections increased according to many close to the elections, so there was a moderate degree of optimism.

I watched television with Jamaicans: often US channels broadcasting the results, until Obama’s victory was definite. Since it was night and some got sleepy, ways parted, and it was in my cheap hotel in uptown Kingston that I heard the victory speech of Obama held in Chicago. Where were you when……well… there, in Kingston, Jamaica.

In between two parts of Kingston: uptown/New Kingston, a more wealthy part of Kingston, and a (lower) middle-class area (not really a ghetto, but not wealthy either), where we drove as my friend drove me to my hotel, there was not really a mass euphoria, neither were people celebrating on the streets. Not that I expected that, I did not know what to expect, really. Maybe some celebrated at home, or it was simply too late for some.
There was some attention to it, among Jamaicans I knew, and by Jamaicans on the radio and television.


The television at the Kingston hotel where I stayed. Secured….

As I met the same friend(s) again the next day, there was more attention to it: in the media, radio, comments by my friends, or by other Jamaicans that I just picked up. A man entering a supermarket greeted a friend working there and also said something like “black man time”. Similar comments were made in the media. The Jamaican newspaper The Gleaner had “Obama makes history” on its front page the 5th of November, and on the radio it was discussed. The people I knew were happy with the fact that a black man was now president of such a powerful country. Also the fact that first lady Michelle was black got special mention.

A few days later I got to visit, through a friend of a friend, the studio in August Town, Kingston, of Sizzla Kalonji , the conscious dancehall reggae artist, a Rastafari of the Bobo Ashanti mansion. I heard there a part of the song about “a black man in the White House” that Sizzla apparently composed by then.



These two weeks I traveled throughout Kingston and several other parts of the island, from which I learned much, and which I found overall nice and interesting. It was a nice, “easy”, yet inspiring trip, overall, these two weeks Jamaica.



View of Falmouth on the North Coast, where I also spent a few hours one day

I did not have the idea that the island Jamaica exploded and was in a mass euphoric state due to Obama’s victory. People went on with their daily lives, which include struggles, especially for those in the poorer areas and ghettos of Jamaica, which I also visited some days. Throughout all this, however, I felt like Obama’s victory was “positively acknowledged” as part of a historical sense of black pride in Jamaica, dating back to Marcus Garvey and others. This was hardly ever aggressive, negative, vindictive, let alone directed at me (a white tourist, even though a reggae lover). I liked this: most Jamaicans I met, I felt, saw the person before the race. Whiteness was either irrelevant, noted as part of “stating the obvious”, or simply a sign (“Does that machine work? No you need to go to that other one, close to where that white man is standing”).


Statue of Marcus Garvey in St Ann’s Bay. “We declare to the world Africa must be free”

Most Jamaicans I met seemed proud of who they were, their blackness, their culture, country and identity and expressed this pride regularly. That’s “a natural fact”, as some have sung.
This pride apparently need not result in racially based aggression or hatred. I think it’s all about acknowledging common humanity, true communication, and openness of mind.
This is possible. “Yes we can”, as Obama would say.