beware

music sometimes can be used for protest. inna Jamaica that is often the case. for some reason, outside of Jamaica reggae is seen as party music. when in fact, the music is often calling for justice and peace.

police brutality is appalling in Jamaica. from Amnesty's website:

Police abuse has been documented by national and international organisations numerous times in the past 30 years. In 1986, an Americas Watch report, Human Rights in Jamaica, concluded that there existed in Jamaica: "a practice of summary executions by the police; a practice of unlawful detentions by the police at times accompanied by police assaults on detainees; and a practice of confining detainees in police station lock-ups under squalid and degrading conditions."

of course the unemplyed youth have also taken up violence as a way of living. here Tarrus Riley warns people to "beware" of the "youths dem an cops."




more reggae on my reggae blog: duppyrundem.blogspot.com

happy birthday bob

jah, ever living, ever strong.

Kingston Town

and the classic UB40 tune

putting an end to the fuckery

A one surf week is ended with the usual blog roll and interwebs fuckery that is a morning at work. Recently the word fuckery has been used profusely by Lewis Samuels in Post Surf. Not sure where he got it from. I heard the word used often in Jamaica as in “ gwaan man -yuh a fuckery” or maybe in reference to political news on the radio you would hear someone say “a fuckery dat man” or when a rum head came beggin around the shop for a drink old P would yell “come outta ere with yuh fuckery man! Guh wey!”

For a cynical mind like mine fucekry is the perfect looking glass for deciphering the cipher. In my waning interest to keep talking about how my latest surf session went (it’s just a bunch of fuckery anyway) I wonder if it’s even worthwhile to continue Ku Yah all together. I can see the hits decline as the surfy posts subside. Of course initially Ku Yah was an exercise in writing –to learn to write. Indeed I did learn to write –if only in short ADHD spurts and mostly about fuckery so only time will tell if that particular skill will come in handy some day.

I’ve asked myself why I read other people’s blogs. Is it the grass is always greener rubber neck ego trip in my head that makes me do it? There is so much content on the interwebs and a lot of it rehashing of itself. Do I want to add to that fuckery too? Some folks I reckon actually use the interwebs for personal expansion and growth. And relationships of value can occasionally spring from the virtual black hole. But mostly it’s a waste of time.

If we are to consider our assets in life, and I don’t mean capital assets, what do we have? We have our health, our intellect, our ability to forgive and love (because that’s how you get forgiven and loved), and time. Time is as valuable resource and like trees or fish it’s a finite non-renewable resource. And god do I ever know how to squander it with fuckery.

Over the past five weeks I’ve been trying to develop a running practice. “Here he goes again with some fuckery” you say. Well perhaps. Certain incidences have inspired me to run; one being the coming of a little one and the practicality of running as a way of maintaining basic fitness. But there are other effects to a running practice like meditative moments, transcending discomfort and pain, learning self discipline, developing will power, experiencing the weather and its moods, expelling toxins out of my body via sweat, strengthening my heart, lungs, bones, muscles, relieving stress –all without spending any dough or fossil fuel. Running is simple and pure.

We evolved to run certainly for escaping danger as much as for pursuing prey. Our modern lives of sedentary livelihoods have all but eliminated running from our lives. So much so that running is seen as a fringe activity, something that body conscious people do. But it is as natural as breathing or taste.

In short I may not write much here anymore. Instead I will focus on action. On using my muscles and tendons to move through space –whether it be splitting lanes on the cruiser or surfing or running. I will read books. Something I’ve neglected for some time. I will cook and finish some creative projects that have been marinating in the basement or in my brain. If you’ve read this far I’d like to say thanks. Thanks for stopping in often and for your occasional commentary. If you want to be in touch feel free to send me a note at rasblog at gmail.

cheers

ras

sons of slaves

as times change and one generation's seeming demise shifts into the next generations pop culture emblems one thing remains constant. humanity is not humanist. humanism is nothing but a construct of our romantic ideals of peace and love. humans are in fact animals (duh)who live by the basic code of survival using intrinsic instinct. where's the hope? self reliance. it is our nature.


classic Junior Delgado tune with Lee Perry production

as far as the eye can see

pull up selecta!

started a new page over the weekend called Pull up Selecta. I'll be posting pure reggae vibes from youtube. reggae music is my favourite musical genre and I can't really say why. it's sorta like having a magic surfboard, it just feels right. so I'll try and cut down on videos here on KuYah and instead post them on Pull up Selecta.

respec every time

Beware -> Tarrus Riley

been a long time now since I left Jamaica. one of the important lessons about living in developing countries is that I’ve learned how resource rich my life here is. it’s hard to be grateful sometimes. it’s easy to get vexed about trivial shit. but dammit at least I have a future filled with food, shelter and safety. that’s more than heaps of people have in Jamaica.

Jamaican music is a music of protest. I didn’t really understand that well until I’d lived there and learned to understand patois. many of Bob Marley’s songs are in patois and it’s funny to hear them played on advertising or at parties and people don’t understand how aggressive the lyrics are. or perhaps we don’t care, were oblivious to what’s happening outside of our culture.

but what Jamaican people may lack in resources they make up for with a passion for life and music. you can hear sound systems all over the island blasting the latest big tune. each month a new riddim will come out and every top dj will write lyrics and before long one or two or sometimes more versions of the riddim will be on everyone’s lips. taxis always blast the radio. in the country or in Town little kids rock and wine in front of the huge stacks of speakers. youths lean up against the sound and smoke spliffs and cigarettes and if there’s money they hold a Guinness. grown men play dominoes under mango trees on makeshift tables as the music from the nearest sound fills the steamy air with pulsing baselines. grannies make rice and tin mackerel on the coal stove and sing old church songs as if on stage. and the people live, survive and sing.

when there’s no future there is still music and community. that’s something. give thanks.

bull bay

my good friend Felon used to keep two boards at Billy's place. he'd come outta the Manchester hills once a month or so and go down to Bull Bay for a surf and some reasonin at the Mystic house. I went down once. we paddled out at the zoo. hadn't surfed in over a year -bloated like a dead dog on the side of a sunny road from too much shitty livin. I caught naught a wave. meantime Felon and Icah and some of the other youth were ripping the little A-frame beachie.

in the evening after gettin some food on the street we had a little jam session. me on the bass and Felon on guitar. one of Billy's sons on the drums and the other on the keys. without a doubt one of the most interesting days I ever had while living in Jamaica.

Jamaica is a place of beauty and paradox. for young men growing up there in poverty there's little if any hope to make a living and support a family by any legal means. Zulu, I hope everting is alright me brejren inna Morrant Bay seen. respec.

the abyssinians

good things

here's a good piece of Jamaica culture via U Roy from the late 1970's. these days there's Armageddon in Haiti, genocide in Darfur, cholera outbreaks in Zimbabwe, food riots in Bolivia, mass exodus of migrant workers back to their impoverished homelands all over Europe and Asia... and I live here in this little bubble. free to surf and enjoy a life not of my choosing but indeed of my design.

we choose every day no? I vacillate sometimes but more times I begin to know what I want and which way to go.

easy -go easy. don't tread hard on the land. I heard that advise from so many Rasta singers and thinkers. "tread light pon de land." in some Rastafarian beliefs the individual is the I and the creator/creation is the I. therefore to be free, to achieve enlightenment you must be I and I. you must be one. you must tread lightly upon the earth and respect your fellow man.

a wha - one spliff a day keep da evil away

hear me a seh
dem a watch all de time
a watch dem watch yuh
like mongose pon de foul inna coop
like rum head a watch London man drink 'im Heineken
like a hawk brejren -a watch dem a watch

but unno no fi care bout dat
jus gwaan an do a ting uncle
yuh no see it?
a ting is a ting king
an you hafi mek a flex

inna poor man country
mango no rot pon de ground seen
dem seh opportunity is bounty


dem not afraid ah opportunity
move yuh bumba clot bwoy!

billy boyo


more like this at Dub.com

respec

one stop shop

when I lived in JA I would sometimes help my friend Peart run his little shop. A normal customer may come and order the following:

2 rizzla (single papers)

$5 grabba (this was tobacco, rolled like a cigar, but came by the meter like rope. one inch for $5)

half pound of chicken (frozen and choped off with machete)

one pound rice

one rum

"hey boss how much it come to?"

"yah man -me 'ave de money man -see it here."

"bwoy time is hot yuh know bwoy. credit me one well cold beer man. no watch nutin."

"bombo clot man yuh too tief! jah know I say I gwine pay yuh man."

"guh way man"

DIY: Jerk Pork

Friend asked me in a an email how to make jerk pork so I thought I'd share what I know. The real thing is cooked over green Pimento (or Allspice) branches. We can't get those round here.

You need:

allspice aka pimento in Jamdown (must have)
ginger (fresh)
bunch green onions (must have)
garlic (must have)
hot peppers (you can get habaneros or thai chillis -if it ain't hot it ain't jerk)
black pepper
salt
olive oil
lime juice
thyme (must have)

combine all -finally chopped or in a blender -stab the meat or make deep cuts with a knife - rub on the meat with your bare hands to make sure it gets everywhere - wash your hands well afterwards and especially before touching your face or taking a piss (trust me on this one, you don't wanna know) and let stand for at least over night.

BBQ slow and low -try not to let it char. Burnt meat is carcinogenic; don’t wanna add that to the sneaky tobacco and beers.

Tenderloin can be dry sometimes so you may consider not adding salt at all to the mix and putting on coarsely ground sea salt when it's almost done. Otherwise you could get some nice chops - fatty chops make for better jerk -or ribs too and chicken of course (dark meat).

If it's really hot then you know it's good. Get some Red Stripes from the LC to cool the heat.

jah jah city

from the BBC
“Jamaica's poor have been abandoned by the government and left to the mercy of violent criminal gangs, Amnesty International says in a new report.
The human rights group said inner-city Jamaicans were being "held hostage" in the battle between gangs and the state.
Amnesty said Jamaican authorities had stigmatised and "wilfully neglected" inner-city communities.
Jamaica has one of the region's highest murder rates, with 1,500 homicides in 2007 and 272 police killings.
"Criminal gangs... keep thousands of people living in constant fear," Amnesty's Fernanda Doz Costa said.
"Entire populations are shut down by barricades and unable to leave their homes after 5pm. Children don't go out to school and adults don't go to work because transport is suspended."
The human rights group urged Jamaican authorities to address the underlying causes of what it said was a "human rights crisis".
It said the government should act to reduce murder rates, introduce human-rights based policing and reform the judicial system."

The garrison communities like Jungle and Rema in Kingston are not what we see in travel adverts about Jamaica. On my last day in Jamaica my friend Frogy drove me through these areas on the way to the airport. In two years living in Jamaica I never saw anything like I’d see on that last drive through the city. The streets were dirty and run down like the rest of the city, but you could tell you were approaching a garrison community by the military blockade at the entrance to Rema. Big camouflage trucks and soldiers armed with machine guns patrolled the area. The walls were riddled with bullet holes and political graffiti. I gave thanks for the tint on the windows of the vehicle I was in.

There is some serious inequity in our world and it’s not all as far away from us as we’d like to think. For young men growing up in these poor neighborhoods of Kingston, the goal is to stay alive and learn to hustle. There is no possibility of escape -with the rare exception of a musician making it.

Often I hear reggae music in clubs or bars and people dance and laugh and feel happy. Any they should feel happy. But reggae is mostly a music of protest and defiance -defiance against the downpressors (as the Rasta would say), defiance against Babylon. The all inclusive’s lining the coasts of Jamaica, serving all you can eat booze and food, are nothing less than a slap in the face to a people who’ve been tricked by the IMF, World Bank, aggressive resource reaping nations, and yes even their own politicians. Be sure the pick up the next issue of Foulweather titled The Beach due out soon for more about my short time in Jamaica.

bobo dread

In Jamaica some of the rastas put forth a "roots" image. But there are also many who live simple farming lives in the countryside and forgo modern tings.

ice

feeling a bit of cabin fever. we awoke this morning to an ice storm -post snow storm. I took Peta out for a slippery stroll and then shoveled the sidewalk in the freezing rain. B and I have been stuck in the house ever since. She worked on her oil painting and helped me to hem my new wool trousers. I messed around the house, made curry chicken and rice for lunch and did some calisthenics.

There's a big swell with a slight east bent to it. I sure hope the roads are clear enough to make the drive out tomorrow to a left that I've only surfed once but works wonders with some east in it and favourable tide.

hope the rest of you out there are doing well. I will leave unno with this lickle Ras Michael ting here.

silky

got out today with the black spidey, who by the way is a new dad as of this weekend. the waves were head high and we were gifted a solo session at one of Nova Scotia's best right handers. although it may have been better down the way, having waves to yourself is a gift that you just can't take for granted. been riding the green machine as a twinnie lately to see how it works. it's fast but squirely, especially hard going backside. but lean low into bottom turns and it will speed around the sections and get you back out to the face for more down the line fun.

I've been on a you tube kick lately and I suppose most of you are quite savvy on it already. what I've been diggin up lately is reggae. when I lived inna Jamdown my friend marcus lived in a neighborhood in Mandeville called Greenvale. it was a ruff place. from this hilly gheto came Garnet Silk, hailed by some as the next Marley. He died prematurely while trying to save his mother from a fire in her house. they were found holding each other in the ashes. some believe his two brothers may have tried to kill him as they too were starting to make it in the music business.

for those growing up in Jamaica, life is no joke.

"The Crown Prince of Reggae"

seen

Bag a wya - ball a fya

thanks for the vibes push.