Sunsets, Rum, Sand and Gizzadas 97 Days in Negril

[Kahuna3]

Street Theater #1

I couldn’t get on the board yesterday – some kind of server problem – said I was ‘FORBIDDEN’ – I thought maybe Rob had finally cut me off

Question – if I was the last one to post here, and this is the next one – am I pimping my own thread?

Whatever.

So yesterday morning I saw Shrek off. Sad to see him go, he really wished he could’ve stayed longer. His daily contributions to the local economy will be missed. If Shrek lived here full time I’m sure the Jamaican GDP would tick up a notch.

So it’s just JT, me and the Minnesota Triplets. We went to the Country Western bar last night and had a blast. We drank, ate, sang along, drank, put on cowboy hats, danced, sang, drank, and laughed a lot. It was a really good party.

Tonite – The Warlord is at Root – BOUNTY KILLA! I hope he actually shows up.

One of the things I enjoy most about Negril is the constant street theater that occurs here. And it’s entirely free, right out in the open and there for your enjoyment. The acts that make up Negril street theater are spontaneous. Scenes can break out on a street corner, in a store, on the beach or across the road. The actors are real people. You can walk into a scene or be presented by one at any time. One must always be prepared.

Here’s an example. Walking Hermitage Road up from Dead Man’s Corner you will soon come across a small road-side stand. Bea and I walked the road frequently. The shop is constructed of clapboard, painted bright yellow and rests on concrete blocks. There’s a door up front and a large window on each side. The shop is run by one of the local neighborhood ladies. She sells beer, soft drinks and canned goods and assorted junk foods wrapped in plastic. It’s a typical, albeit tiny, Jamaican road-side stand.

Approaching the stand, we could hear women’s voices raised over a base of loud dancehall music. It sounded like a serious argument with several involved participants was under way. Drawing nearer we saw that there were three women crammed into the small shop. They were engaged in a loud discussion, punctuated with sharp hand movements and peppered liberally with ‘rass’ dis’s and ‘bumba’ dat’s. Until this trip I’d been under the impression that it was only Jamaican men who swore like troopers, but these women proved me wrong. In the cussing department, they were fluent and lacked nothing as far as vocabulary, diction and delivery were concerned.

As we passed the front of the shop the women noticed us and paused in their ‘conversation.’ One of them, the proprietor I assumed, smiled and waved and called out to us. “Come into the shop, get a cold beer,” she said, her voice barely audible over the dance hall music. We waved back, declined the solicitation and continued up the road.

Behind us the ‘argument’ started back up again. Slowly at first and not at the volume it was at prior to our passing by. But by the time we’d walked another twenty paces the three of them were back up to full throat.

They weren’t arguing, they were just having a friendly conversation.

More street theater to come.

Likkle more . . .

[juls]

I couldn't get on yesterday for a while as well....FORBIDDEN!....Not sure why....Thanks for the recent trip reports, Kahuna! You have a way with the english language! I am trying to stay away from my copy of 'Walk Good'..I trying to save it for vacay but it beckons!

[T&A]

Board was down apparently as I was also "forbidden".
My trip is close and we have 10 to 14 inches snow in the forcast here tomorrow.
So, thanks for the report It's been a nice one!

[jimnkim]

I was going to give you hell for not posting yesterday, but I figured you were having too much fun. I missed hearing from you Yesterday though. im sure many others did also.

[groove16]

we coiuldnt get on the board either...405 forbidden.....

i did finish reading walk good last night....

[deanna]

Hi I just wanted to say it was nice meeting you- I forgot the name of the bar Lisa and I dropped in on for a nightcap on the 18th but it was a beachbar with the very tall bartender with the huge muscles, we had a blast

[deanna]

Hi I just wanted to say it was nice meeting you- I forgot the name of the bar Lisa and I dropped in on for a nightcap on the 18th but it was a beachbar with the very tall bartender with the huge muscles, we had a blast

Lisa is jamaicarobs wife

[Lady Jane]

Miss Roses gizzadas Must try. Not we were all off the board yesterday. Those Jamaican arguments remind me of Italina "discussions". Lots of noise and lots of hand action.

[Kahuna3]

Bounty Killa!

Last night was the Roots Bamboo Bounty Killa show.

It was a beautiful warm evening; the waning moon directly above in a starlit sky. A big bonfire on the beach just outside the gate. The surf washing the shore. Picture perfect and classic Negil.

Roots was cordoned off with a picket of bamboo poles planted in the sand then wrapped in blue tarpaulin. I entered the gate around 12:30am. Inside there was a large crowd, a lot of tourists but mostly Jamaicans. The air was filled with a haze of ganja smoke. The anticipation for Bounty’s arrival was palpable. The crowd was buzzing and rightly so; one of Jamaica’s top dance hall artists was about to perform. A warm-up band was playing and there was a lot of drinking and dancing going on. Where do Jamaican women learn to move their hips like that? I mean, whuh!

A man dressed in hip suit with a fedora on his head got on stage and started to introduce Bounty Killa. It was a looonnng intro. He was joined by another guy and they continued, at length, to introduce Bounty. But it was OK because background music was playing and people just continued to dance and drink. It was a party.

Finally, at 2:00am, The Warlord hit the stage. It was like an electric jolt ran through the crowd, they surged the stage, I was swept up and found myself one back from the stage and pressed into the middle of a tight knot of people who were shuckin’ and jivin’ and singing along with Bounty.

Bounty Killa, in his darkers, his black vest, his cornrows, his big bling necklace and sequined trainers is a striking, charismatic entertainer. He jumped and shouted and pointed and strutted, his deep, barking voice amplified by two huge banks of speakers. The crowd moved as if a tide and I was swept along with it. At one point I was pinioned between two Jamaican girls who were dancing and twirling and twerkin and bumping into me with their butts – intentionally. They thought it was funny to wine-up on the old white dude. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Bounty ruled the stage for an hour and fifteen minutes and then suddenly the concert was over. It went by all too quickly.

I walked home along a deserted beach, the concert still ringing in my ears. I got to bed at 3:30am. It was a truly memorable concert and I had a blast.

Unfortunately my camera has gone on the fritz. I so wanted to post some stills and video of Bounty.

Here’s something interesting, you know the saying that goes, ‘When you have an itchy palm you are going to get some money.’ Well, last night I learned that ‘when your knees itch, you are going to sleep in a new bed.’ I also learned that the ‘night dew’ is bad for your skin and can make you sick.

I need to take a nap now.

Likkle more . . .

[Kahuna3]

Poor People in Negril #1

Only one more week left here??!!

Yikes, mon!

I had a quiet day yesterday because I was recovering from Bounty Killa.

There was a torrential downpour yesterday afternoon in Negril. I’ve never seen so much lightning or heard so much thunder. It was awesome. It cleared up just around sunset and then the stars came out. Gotta love it.

We had a party last nite at Sunnyside. One of those impromptu things. Everybody came out after the rain looking for some fun. Robert was dancing behind the bar to Shaggy – Maureen is a better dancer and she sings too, but Robbie did a good job. Then some locals showed up to celebrate one guy’s ‘bert-day’. We all sang happy bert day and then they cut up a cake and passed it around. I passed on the cake because I’d seen the cake lady earlier and had a big piece of choco-coconut. It was my dinner and it was fabulous.

Here are some observations on poor people in Negril.

Jamaica is a third world country and as such the social safety net, where it even exists, has gaping holes in it. The county simply does not have the resources to build and maintain a comprehensive set of social services. Not that services for the poor don’t exist; in Negril there is St. Anthony’s, the church run charity that runs several programs that help the needy and there is the Negril Health Center, which provides medical care to people from town. But the need here is much greater than what is available.

I am no expert on the subject, but I observe, and I see many needy, destitute people out and about, seemingly adrift in the community. Seemingly adrift, but not totally.

Up in Redground there is an elderly gentleman who ‘lives’ just to the side of the street in some low bushes. He sits, head hanging down between his knees, surrounded by a mound of discarded plastic bottles, Styrofoam food containers and other detritus. He too, looks like he’s been cast aside; a heavy pall of desperation hangs about him. But he is part of the neighborhood. People know him. They see him every day and apparently keep watch over him, so he is not alone. Before Christmas his clothes were filthy and hanging off him in tatters. He’s barefoot. The last time I saw him he was wearing a new shirt and pants. New but already heavily soiled. One of the neighborhood folks told me he used to be a tradesman; a carpenter. He spends his whole day sitting on the trash mound, head hung low, baking in the hot sun. Not alone, not adrift, fed and clothed, watched over. Seemingly adrift, but not totally.

The bus park seems to attract the homeless and destitute, perhaps due to its proximity to St. Anthony’s, where meals are served to the needy. Whatever the case, there are always a few apparently homeless people hanging around there. Notably, there is a young man who appears to be in good shape physically and his clothing is in good order, but he is obviously suffering from some kind of mental deficiency. He walks up and down the sidewalk stooped over with his mouth wide open as if he is gagging continuously. Nobody pays him any attention. I wonder if he has a home and is just out and about for the day.

Likkle more . . . .