Carolyn Cooper | S/he who is guilty can’t stone the yute

There’s a brightly coloured graffiti sign at the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts that says “be bright and out of order”.

It doesn’t look like an official notice. It seems to be the work of an enthusiastic student. It’s admirable that the administration of the college hasn’t painted over the sign. Freedom of expression should be cultivated at an art school.

Artistic creativity does seem to require a certain kind of madness; a willingness to blur the orderly lines of socially acceptable behaviour.

As William Shakespeare puts it, “The lunatic, the lover, and the poet/Are of imagination all compact”. In modern English, this means that crazy imagination is what all these types have in common.

And a poet isn’t just someone who writes poetry. The Oxford English Dictionary adds this definition: “a person possessing special powers of imagination or expression”.

I suppose this year’s valedictorian, Waldane Walker, decided to say farewell to the college in the spirit of that bright and out of order sign. And he certainly possesses special powers of expression. His speech was a passionate account of the difficult journey he had travelled to that moment of celebration. And he concluded on a dramatic b***d*c***t note.

As a graduate of the School of Drama, he certainly understands theatrics.

SPONTANEOUS RESPONSE

The public outcry against the yute is understandable. Even me, who likes to make a case for the value of our so-called bad words, was surprised by Waldane’s word choice on this occasion.

There’s a time and place for everything. Many young people don’t appreciate the old-fashioned distinction between public and private behaviour. Social media have certainly erased boundaries.

Still, it’s the responsibility of adults to teach the youth the difference. I suppose they would say we’re hypocritical: A word is either good or bad in all contexts. But is it?

Last Monday, I went to the Swallowfield Depot at about 2:30 p.m. to do the fitness test for my car. I was rather optimistic that I would get through before closing time.

I had to abruptly draw brakes, like a taxi man hunting a fare, when I was reminded by one of the examiners that I had to go to the tax office first to pay for the test. I’d completely forgotten that you can no longer do that at the depot.

Why does the Government make it so difficult to pay taxes? Why should I have to go to the tax office to pay for the test; then back to the depot to do the test; and back to the tax office to pay the licence fee? This makes absolutely no sense. I know you can pay for the test online. But not everybody has access to this option.

My spontaneous expression of frustration was pure poetry: an explosive ‘b***b.’ No cloth. Just the private part fully exposed in public. But only verbally, let me quickly add. There was no flinging of the skirt over the head.

A woman in a car next to mine was most surprised by my exclamation and immediately chastised me.

All she said was, “Professor Cooper!” But that was enough.

A supposedly respectable senior citizen should not utter such a disreputable word. At that point, I couldn’t care less.

THE WORD OF JAH

One of my all-time favourite reggae singers, Peter Tosh, wrote a song, ‘Oh B***b K***t’, in which he tells an unlikely story:

“One night, an evil spirit held me down

I could not make one single sound

Jah told me, ‘Son, use the word’

And now I’m as free as a bird.”

I interviewed Tosh soon after his magisterial Reggae Superjam performance in 1983. He confirmed his conviction about the spiritual power of the words b***b k***t; and called down judgement on the hypocrisy of supposedly respectable Jamaicans:

“Me have a song name ‘Oh, B***b K***t’ which me sing, and me sing it with dignity. Seen? If you listen to the song, from the first verse to the last, me wrote so many verses to clarify my song, because me know our middle-class nice, decent, clean people out there don’t like that. But they do the most devious and evilous b***b k***t things in the society that even the Devil himself is ashamed of, but them don’t waan hear me say b***b k***t. A can’t tek dat”.

This is how Tosh responded to my question about why he didn’t use any power words at the concert:

“There are many elements that have the same power. So you see some guys go to war with different-different size guns. And get different-different effects from the different size guns. Seen? But when I come to war, I don’t have to carry one special gun. I waan show dem say I can shoot dem many ways. An dem dead same way. You no seen? Yeah man. So when dem a look fe me use my forty-five, me use my seventy-seven.”

Waldane Walker should take note. I don’t think even the out of order graffiti artist would have approved of b***d k***t as a verbal gun salute on graduation day!

- Carolyn Cooper, PhD, is a specialist on culture and development. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and karokupa@gmail.com.