Soulful Sundays: Count Ossie & The Mystic Revelation of Rastafari

Legendary master drummer Count Ossie is credited with infusing African drumming and chanting in

Count Ossie
Count Ossie

reggae music. In the early 1960s, he backed The Folkes Brothers on their ground breaking hit, Oh Carolina.

Born Oswald Williams in 1926 in St. Thomas, Count Ossie grew up in a Rasta community where he learned hand drumming and vocal chanting. In the 1950s, he formed the Count Ossie Group, which later developed into the Mystic Revelation of Rastafari (MRR) and included horn player, Cedric Brooks. Count Ossie led regular jam sessions in Kingston were musicians such as Tommy McCook, Lennie Hibbert, Larry McDonald, Rico Rodriguez, Nambo Robinson and Don Drummond played.

Count Ossie & the Mystic Revelation of Rastafari were a major influence in reggae music, especially in the 1960s and 1970s. They recorded two albums Grounation (1973), considered a masterpiece, and Tales of Mozambique (1975).

Count Ossie died on October 18, 1976. In 1983, the MRR released and Man from Higher Heights.

While the MRR tours extensively in Europe, their first performance in the U.S. was in July, 2000, at the Lincoln Center’s Caribbean Roots, Caribbean Routes program, where I was fortunate to see them. Here’s a review by the New York Times of their performance.

Also, listen here to two of Count Ossie & MRR’s So Long and Sam’s Intro.

Grounation
Grounation

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Waiting

According to some statistics, we spend about an hour a day waiting. We wait for traffic lights and in line at the grocery store, the movie, the airport and at the doctor’s office. We wait for birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Easter and other holidays. We wait for vacations and for our children to grow up. Some of us wait for retirement.

We spend so much time waiting, some of us have developed ways to manage our wait times. We read, talk on the phone, do crossword puzzles, take naps or eat.

In countries that are less bureaucratic, wait times can stretch for hours and force people to think of creative ways to avoid waiting or lessen the time they have to wait.

Recently, I went to the utility company to order new service. The number I took when I arrived was ’02’ but the number being served was in the 70s. An hour or more later when my number was called, I walked over to the representative I was directed to but someone else was there. He claimed to be #02 as well. I told the representative that I also had #02 and that I’d been there for more than an hour waiting patiently to be called.

Luckily for me, the fake #02 wasn’t too swift. When the representative asked, he replied that he’d been there earlier, gotten his number and left to run an errand.

Waiting at the Musee d'Orsay
Waiting in line at the Musee d'Orsay
Waiting in line at the Eiffel Tower
Waiting in line at the Eiffel Tower
Waiting for the light to change
Waiting for the traffic light to change
Cruise ship waiting for passengers
Cruise ship waiting for passengers

We might not think about it but animals wait as well. Here, my neighbor’s dog waits patiently for her to come home.

Waiting dog
Waiting dog

 

Sucked in by Spirit Airline’s Cheap Fare

It was the fare that convinced me. $274 round trip Montego Bay to New York. With fees, the total cost of $366 was just within my budget. I typed in my credit card information and a few minutes later, I had my confirmation via email. I was thrilled.

I arrived at the ticket counter with two suitcases – one half-full, the other empty — and put them on the scale. Even though I’m a light packer, I breathed a sigh of relief when the half-empty one came in under the weight limit.

Then the ticket agent said something about baggage fees. I heard $43 and started to look for the money when a friend who was with me asked if it was for both. No, she replied. The fee is $43 for the first bag, $50 for the second. Ninety-three Dollars total!

You could have knocked me down with a feather. I fumbled around in my wallet, trying to find US dollars that I had tucked away so I wouldn’t get them mixed up with my Jamaican money. Where had I put them?

Flustered, and angry at myself for not noticing the baggage fee when I purchased on Travelocity, I began grumbling. Why didn’t I see the %*&#! baggage fee? Was it in the fine print? Why didn’t I pay attention to the fine print?

One suitcase’s empty, I said plaintively, trying to appeal to her. She didn’t reply. I looked from her to the baggage handler who was waiting to put my luggage on the conveyor belt. He was expressionless.

After this flight, I said addressing her but loud enough for everyone else to hear, I’ll never fly Spirit Airlines again. They just suck you in with their cheap flights then they gouge you on everything else. Don’t say that, she said, but there was no sympathy in her voice as if she’d been reading from a script.

Finally, I found the money and gave it to her. When she handed me a receipt, I stared at the total, thinking how much less it would have hurt if I had just thrown the money away. I was still furious when I landed in New York six hours later.

I checked Travelocity and they do have a line in their General Policies that states, “Airline baggage fees may apply and may not be included in the price.” And according to their information, Spirit’s fee for the first bag is $23-33, $30-40 for the second on international flights. Why was my fee $10 higher?

A check of the airline’s website confirms that I paid $10 more for each bag than what’s listed. This from an airline that claims to “empower customers to save money on air travel by offering ultra low base fares with a range of optional services for a fee, allowing customers the freedom to choose only the extras they value.” Excuse me? When did luggage become an extra?

In Jamaica, we say “the cheapest always works out the dearest.”  My total so far is $459 and I still have the return leg of my flight and another fee to pay. In the meantime, I’m going to see about getting back my $20.

For a list of what airlines charge and how much, check out airfarewatchdog’s list.

 

 

Travel Photo Thursday: Cuba’s Classic Cars

As I watched a Godfather marathon on television recently, my eyes locked onto the Mercury Montclair Michael Corleone drove while he was in Havana. I thought of the cars I saw while I was there and wondered what the recent announcement that the government is planning to allow Cubans to buy and sell their cars and homes would mean.

Would Cubans exchange their iconic cars for much needed foreign currency? Would the government even allow them to?

In a CNN report, a Cuban is quoted as saying, “If these cars didn’t exist, not as many foreigners would come to Cuba to drive around in them and take pictures.” Fortunately, there is a lot more to Cuba than classic cars. Seeing them, seeing the old buildings – one other thing Cuba’s famous for – made me feel as if I’d stepped back in time.

Se Vende/For Sale Havana Classic Car
Se Vende / For Sale, Havana Classic Car

When I was going to Cuba, one of my friends told me she’d love to be able to own one of the cars. I took this photo for her. At the time, I didn’t even consider that it might have been illegal to sell them.

Classic Car taxi
1952 Oldsmobile

Quite a lot of the cars I saw were in pretty good condition considering they were 50-plus years old. There were, of course, some pretty banged up ones as well but for some reason, my photos of those didn’t come out very well.

Havana Classic Car
Green Chevrolet
Havana Classic Car
Red Plymouth

We noticed that quite a number of the cars were being operated as taxis. It’s quite inexpensive to take one, about $20-25 and tour the city. They’re big and roomy and can fit up to 6 people (depending on their sizes).

Classic Car taxi
Red Olds
Red Havana car
Red Chevy
Havana car
Cadillac

This is my submission to this week’s Budget Travelers Sandbox Travel Photo Thursday series. Be sure to check out other photo and story entries on their website!

 

A Visit to Roaring River

I grew up in a community close to Roaring River in the parish of Westmoreland but discovered its underground cave when I was in high school. Back then, it was a local secret. Now, it’s a well-known tourist attraction called Roaring River Park.

For long as I can remember, Roaring River has been known as a very close-knit community. Many of the residents have lived there for generations; some are even related. Visitors go because of the series of limestone caves, mineral springs, blue hole and the river, which supplies water for much of the parish. Even during the dry season, a deep green carpet of wildflowers and grass blankets the area.

Munching goat
Goat in field of wildflowers and grass

Roaring River is located on lands that were once part of the Roaring River Estate. Before sugar lost its importance as Westmoreland’s main crop, much of the lands surrounding the community belonged to the West Indies Sugar Company (WISCO), formerly a major employer in the parish. Now that sugar is no longer ‘king,’ many residents earn much of their income by leading tours of the cave, springs and the blue hole.

Part of the Roaring River in Westmoreland
Part of the Roaring River in Westmoreland

We traveled to Roaring River a few weekends ago, not to visit the cave or the blue hole but to see a man (Robbie, a relative) about a goat for a friend of the family. As we drove down its narrow dirt road, the only one into and out of Roaring River, we were greeted warmly by everyone we passed.

Once the goat was purchased and was being prepared, we walked down to the river. The water was so crystal clear, we could see the stones at the bottom. We sat at the river’s edge, watching children frolicking in the shallow part. At one point, three young girls, round 8 or 9 years, raced each other to the edge, stripping off their clothes and jumping in, oblivious to the adults, including a young man, around them.

Walking back to the car, a little boy with two buckets, one almost half his size, caught my eye. I looked around but no adults or older children were nearby. He headed to a spring, caught some water in one of his buckets then with it spilling every which way as he struggled to carry it, he plunked it down in front a horse that was tied nearby. Someone said the horse belonged to his father. When he thought the horse had drunk enough, he splashed the rest on its body, to cool him down, I guessed.

Boy and horse
Boy and horse

As we were loading up to leave, Robbie came running towards us. Don’t leave yet, he said. They’ve gone to get you some bananas and breadfruit. Shortly after, a few of the older children that we had seen, returned with a bunch of bananas and several breadfruit.

Robbie with breadfruit
Robbie with breadfruit

Random photos of Roaring River.

Flower
Flower
Bird of Paradise
Bird of Paradise

I was thrilled to see this Doctor Bird, our National Bird. He flitted from tree to branch while I fumbled with my camera, hoping he’d sit still long enough for me to take the shot. Thankfully, he did.

Doctor Bird
Doctor Bird
Roaring River warning
Roaring River warning
Wattle-and-Daub shop
Wattle-and-Daub shop
Painting of Roaring River by John Boydell, from Wikipedia
A 1778 Painting of Roaring River by John Boydell - from Wikipedia

Wattle-and-daub, an old tradition of building that used to be quite popular in Jamaica, especially in the rural areas. Here the wattle, interwoven wooden strips, has been set up. Later the daub, which could be made either from a paste of soil, animal dung or sand will be applied.

I will post a follow up when I visit the cave and the blue hole again. In the meantime, enjoy this video of the blue hole at Roaring River from YouTube.

 

 

We’re Celebrating!

Today, InsideJourneys, is celebrating its first anniversary. A year ago, I wrote my first post. Since then, I’ve written many more and most importantly, made several friends, who stop by everyday.

It’s been a fun year. Thanks for your support and encouragement. So pull up a chair and have a slice of this delicious cake. No, I didn’t bake this one but I can tell you it’s great.

InsideJourneys' Blogoversary
InsideJourneys' 1st Blogoversary

Stories from the Road

“Are you African?” The security guard asked as I waited for my cousin and her husband at the hardware

African dress
My African dress

store.

I hesitated for a moment not quite sure what to say. My eyes searched her face for a clue to what prompted the question that hung heavily in the air, separating us. We are both black, and therefore African, but I couldn’t tell what that meant to her. Nothing about her round, pleasant face gave her away.

The moment and the tension lingered.

I smiled. Yes, I’m African.

She twisted her mouth describing a semi-circle, an expression I couldn’t read. It was as if she were struggling to make sense of me, of what I had just said. I waited as she digested that nugget of information.

You live here now? she asked eventually.

I nodded.

I leaned closer to see if her eyes would reveal something, anything. They were soft, almost smiling. Sensing she wouldn’t give me more, I asked why she thought I was African.

Your wrap, she said as if I should have known.

I laughed. I’d forgotten what I was wearing, a gift from my African family.

We’re all African, I said, whether we’re born here or there.

&&&&&&

The Wrong Side of the Road

My cousin had left already when I decided to go into town. As I arrived at the end of the street to wait for a taxi, I noticed a young girl, maybe 18 or 19, standing a few yards away.

She looked around and I stopped instinctively, as if I had disturbed her territory. We locked eyes but she turned away before I could nod my acknowledgement.

Unknown flower
Unknown flower

I surveyed her furtively from the corner of my eye: shorts, strappy sandals, blouse, and dead straight hair that she stroked frequently, as if it were the smoothest silk.

Suddenly, my auntie jeans, sensible shoes and hair caught up in a ponytail make me feel frumpy and unfashionable. I tried to recall the girl I was at that age but my mind couldn’t seem to find her.

A car approaches. The driver slows down long enough for the driver to survey the young miss then speed up as he reaches me and refocuses his eyes on the road.

One day she’ll understand, I say to myself. All that fades in time.

Another car rolls by and snaps me back. I’m standing on the wrong side of the road. I cross sheepishly to the other side to wait for the taxi. It’s cooler here, I say to myself, as if in response to the question I imagined she’d ask, that is, if she’d even noticed.

Soulful Sundays: The Folkes Brothers

For a long time, I had no idea who The Folkes Brothers were but I knew every beat, every drum lick of their 1960s hit song, Oh Carolina. It was the song that once you heard it at a party, you knew two things: it was late (or early morning, depending on your point of view), and it was time to go home. I’m really not sure how it got that designation.

Oh Carolina, The Folkes Brothers
Oh Carolina, The Folkes Brothers

The Folkes Brothers, John, Mico and Junior, were a group that played mento – Jamaican folk music. Oh Carolina was written by John Folkes and produced by Prince Buster, the first hit record for him. Oh Carolina is regarded as pivotal in the development of ska, rocksteady and reggae music. Prior to the release of the song, Jamaican musicians copied Rhythm & Blues music from the U.S. Oh Carolina was the first to depart from what was the norm. By incorporating African drumming and chanting, done superbly by Count Ossie, a legendary Rastafari drummer, it  created a new Jamaican sound.

In 1993, Oh Carolina was re-released by reggae singer, Shaggy. It goes without saying that I prefer the original version. After Shaggy’s version became an international hit, Folkes and Prince Buster went to court over its authorship – Folkes prevailed.

Take a listen to Oh Carolina.

Oh Carolina,

Oh Carolina honey darling,
Oh, honey, don’t you cry.  

Oh I’m so lonely

Yes, I’m so lonely
Oh, I’m so lonely, Carolina.  

Carolina, my darling,

Oh I wanna talk to you
Oh Carolina, my honey
You know I love only you.

Oh Carolina,

Tan bonita (so beautiful),
Come back and make things right. 

Carolina, my darling,
Oh how I love you
Carolina, my honey,
You know I love only you


 

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Family

What is a family? According to the dictionary, family for humans, is a group of people who are affiliated by blood, affinity or co-residence.

Some years ago, as I walked to the subway, a guy began walking beside me. He plied me with the usual questions then asked if I had a family. Of course, I said. I forget now what else I said only his response, which was something to the effect that my parents weren’t my family, they were my relatives. A husband and children were family. I remember feeling taken aback, jolted. If what he said were true, I thought, it meant that all along, I was wrong. I didn’t have a family. It was unsettling, to say the least.

In considering the concept of family, I also thought of same-sex families, blended families, single parent families, families headed by young adults, and families with adopted children.

Zulu woman and child
Zulu mother and child
Lesotho man and children
Lesotho father and children
Ofelia & Ofelia
Ofelia & Ofelia

After seeing wild animals up close last year and watching the way elephants and lions protect and nurture their young, I knew for this challenge that I had to include a few animal families as well.

Jackass penguins
Jackass penguins
Elephant herd
Cow elephant and young

Elephant herds provide an interesting study of animal families. Read more about them here –

Elephants have a matriarchal head. The family will consist of an older matriarch, her daughters (usually about 3 or 4 of them) and their calves. A typical elephant family usually comprises 6 to 12 individual elephants, but can expand to a larger group of 20. These females will assist each other with the birth and care of their young. This ‘babysitting’ is a very important part of the young elephant’s development as it prepares her for when she is a first-time mother. The matriarch is replaced by one of her daughters (usually the oldest) when she dies.

The family will eventually split, depending on the size of the herd. The decision to split also depends on the amount of food available in the area, as it may not be sufficient to sustain them all. This means that, in a large area, there will be several inter-related families. These families remain united to a certain extent and meet at watering holes and favourite feeding spots with much joy and celebration at seeing one another. Sometimes, herds combine to form larger clans. These clans are identified by observing the mannerisms of the members of each herd as they interact with those of another.

When travelling vast areas in search for food, the herd is led by the matriarch. The others follow her footsteps in single file. In this formation, they search for food and water. Calves hold on to the tails of their mothers with their trunks. The other females of the herd ensure that the calves are protected from outside dangers at all times by surrounding them as much as possible.

The fact that elephant herds are matriarch-led is most evident in the manner in which elephants mate. Bulls stick to a bachelor (all-male) pod in which they live and travel. When one of the bulls desires to mate, he will search out a herd of elephant cows. He will select a desirable cow and pursue her until she is ready to mount. She has the final say regarding whether or not she accepts the bull’s advances. Once he has mated with her, he returns to his bachelor herd, having nothing to do with the rearing or caring of the young.

Likewise, when the male calves in the herd mature into adolescence, they will also break away from the herd, gradually at first, and form bachelor pods with their peers. Adolescent females stick to their main herd until adulthood and, sometimes, even until death, depending of the resources available and the size of the herd.

Like humans, elephants are capable of forming very special bonds with their friends and family members. These relationships start at the core of the herd, i.e. mother and calf. But, they radiate out, and there have been astounding reports of lifelong bonds between elephants that have transcended time and even distance apart.

Elephants value their family structure, perhaps more so than many other animals. They are naturally outgoing, sociable animals and, as such, enjoy the interaction with fellow family- and herd members. Although structured, the herd is fluid enough to compensate for unforeseen circumstances (such as the death of one of the mothers, where other mothers allow the orphaned calf to suckle). Such ties are rare, and the empathetic and insightful nature of these magnificent animals continues to lure researchers deeper and deeper into the elephant psyche.

Source: andrews-elephants.com/family-structure.html

Wildflowers of Jamaica: Spanish Needle

I’ve become fascinated by the variety of flowers, including wildflowers, that grow in Jamaica. When I asked about this one and heard that it was the Spanish Needle, I thought of a poem I learned years ago in school.

Spanish Needle
Spanish Needle

The poem, The Spanish Needle, was written by Jamaican poet, Claude McKay, who certainly thought a lot of the lowly wildflower. McKay was born in 1889 and moved to the U.S. in 1912, where he became a seminal figure of the Harlem Renaissance. Besides poetry, he also wrote the novels Home to Harlem, Banjo and Banana Bottom, short stories and autobiographical books.

This is what he had to say about The Spanish Needle

Lovely dainty Spanish needle

With your yellow flower and white,

Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,

Do you think of me to-night?

 

Shadowed by the spreading mango,

Nodding o’er the rippling stream,

Tell me, dear plant of my childhood,

Do you of the exile dream?

 

Do you see me by the brook’s side

Catching crayfish ‘neath the stone,

As you did the day you whispered:

Leave the harmless dears alone?

 

Do you see me in the meadow

Coming from the woodland spring

With a bamboo on my shoulder

And a pail slung from a string?

 

Do you see me all expectant

Lying in an orange grove,

While the swee-swees sing above me,

Waiting for my elf-eyed love?

 

Lovely dainty Spanish needle,

Source to me of sweet delight,

In your far-off sunny southland

Do you dream of me to-night? 

I was also surprised to learn (but really, I shouldn’t have been) that the medicinal qualities found in the roots, leaves and seeds of the Spanish Needle can be used to treat a variety of illnesses including malaria, headaches and arthritis. It is used widely in Africa, Asia and the Americas.