'Mi deh pon di Gaza!'

Carolyn Cooper, Contributor

Four months ago, I got an email from an Israeli journalist, Nirit Ben-Ari: "I am writing a feature article for the weekend edition of Haaretz on dancehall reggae in Jamaica. It is so interesting and mind-boggling! I read your Noises in the Blood (the part which is available online, because unfortunately, the book is not available in Israel), and it was a fascinating read."

Nirit's first question was: "Do you think that the choice of the name 'Gaza' represents a political awareness and identification with the underdog?" I agreed and elaborated: In Jamaican dancehall culture, Gaza is a symbol of resistance to oppressive political powers. 'Mi deh pon di Gaza' (not quite 'I am in Gaza') signifies a constant struggle for survival like that of the Palestinians who are relentlessly fighting against Israeli domination. 'Gaza' is not so much a place as a state of mind.

You hear this, for example, in Vybz Kartel's Black Child - Pon Di Gaza:

Mi see car for sale but mi cyaa buy none

Mi see house for sale, too

Tell mi when dah money deh a go come?

Ghetto yute lef school and cyaa see no future

Ten years from now tell mi

Wa a go happen to mi daughter?

If every day wi till the soil

An Babylon no share di spoil

Every day wi a suffer

Where is the love for the black child?

Mr Chin done have him own

Dem treat wi like dog an wi still no get no bone

Tell mi, where is the love for the black child?

How mi fi live offa four grand a week, Lawd Jesus?

Dat a just fi mi son sneakers

Lawd God, mi bridge di water

Cyaa pay di bill, mi ha fi back di light meter.

When mi get pay by Friday,

Everyting done by Satday

When mi tek one step forward

It come een like mi tek three step backward.

Babylon yu naa go get weh

Yu ha pay fi wa yu do to ghetto yute

Yu black bredda dem just hold di faith

Selassie I have a plan fi yu

When one ghetto youth drop out

Ten more born cau di journey continue.

Not nice, mi a lead out fi di ghetto yute, mi no care

That's why when mi reach inna Jamaica house weh day

Mi tell dem, every ghetto yute have a talent

Babylon, why yu want fi see dem fail?

Dem naa no job, dem own di future

Is not di morgue, or is not di jail

Dis is not a threat is a warning

Babylon yu naa go get weh

Yu ha pay fi wa yu do to ghetto yute.

The prophetic warning of these lyrics is identical to the judgement of Bob Marley's Babylon System:

We refuse to be

What you wanted us to be.

We are what we are

That's the way it's going to be.

You can't educate I

For no equal opportunity

Talking about my freedom

People freedom and liberty.

Yeah!

We've been trodding on the winepress

Much too long

Rebel, rebel.

Babylon system is the vampire

Sucking the children day by day.

Babylon system is the vampire

Sucking the blood of the sufferers.

Building church and university

Deceiving the people continually.

Me seh them graduating

Thieves and murderers,

Look out now

Sucking the blood of the sufferers.

Tell the children the truth.

Observing Mental Slavery

Ever since 1992 when I first conceived the idea of a reggae studies centre in Jamaica that would attempt to tell the children truth that is recorded in our popular music, 'Mi deh pon di Gaza!', it has been an epic struggle to demonstrate the academic legitimacy of the enterprise.

Last Tuesday's malicious cartoon in the Observer is a classic manifestation of the mental slavery I've been fighting against. Making a mockery of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Clovis represented Vybz Kartel's guest lecture at the University of the West Indies, Mona, as a sacrilegious act, undermining the academic integrity of the institution.

There I am, with my bleached-out face, leading the donkey on which Kartel is riding. Poor Professor Shirley, with that quizzical look on his face, is obviously wondering what he's doing in the midst of the rabble.

At a time when the university is suffering from severe budget cuts, Clovis insinuates that reggae studies is a complete waste of resources. So a nerdy male student asks, 'Is this mi parents spend millions fi mi fi com' university com' learn?!" Ironically, this is the same language that is also derided in the cartoon. 'Patwah Docta' is branded across my pubic region, thus confirming the lower reaches of the Jamaican language.

There are other ironies that I'm sure our Israeli journalist would appreciate. Kartel's legal name, 'Palmer', is of French origin. It was the name given to a pilgrim who had visited the Holy Land and who brought back a palm branch as confirmation of the journey. Similarly, a Muslim who makes the pilgrimage (or hajj) to Mecca takes the title 'Alhaji'.

There are positive stories that do encourage me on my own pilgrimage 'pon di Gaza'. A colleague told me that she overheard her sons and their friends discussing last week's column. A couple of them who had been thinking about dropping out of UTech decided they couldn't. If Kartel was going to get a degree, they had to finish. These are middle-class youths in Mona. I keep wondering about the impact of Adidja Palmer's admission to university on talented ghetto youth who want to 'own di future'.

Carolyn Cooper is an ideator. Visit her bilingual blog at http://carolynjoycooper.wordpress.com/. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and karokupa@gmail.com.