Yasus Afari - was militant.
Under a star-less sky at Merv's Villa Gardens, Mandeville, with the only celestial light in sight being the twinkling Venus, and in freezing weather, some of the performers who took the stage at Yasus Afari's sixth installation of Poetry in Motion (PIM) set the central Jamaican town ablaze with their lyrical fire last Sunday. It was a culinary and literary feast of sorts, moderated by none other than the inimitable Amina Blackwood Meeks, who replaced Fae Ellington as master of ceremonies.
From the erotic mind and tongue of Kerryann Brown, Mel Cooke's wit, Professor Mervin Morris' short, funny and sometimes poignant poems, Carolyn Cooper's interpretative genius and rebellious nature, Joan Andrea Hutchinson's comedic prowess, Mutabaruka's cutting-edge sarcasms, to Yasus Afari's militancy, it was a riot.
Freedom of speech
Their weapons bordered on the sexual, political, intellectual and social. Using their poetic licences to the maximum, they spoke their minds atop the hill, and freedom of speech reigned supreme. And guess who was in the line of fire at times? Ta-dah! The Broadcasting Commission! Its nemesis, Professor Carolyn Cooper, turned the stage into a rampin' shop.
For, if the commission, which Cooper called 'the BC', believes her pro-dancehall articles are fierce, it should think again. She spoke daggers to the commission's actions, accusing it of meddling in people's lives - and you got the feeling the matter was not 'Dunn'.
But it was Cooper's warning to Broadcast Commission chairman Hopeton Dunn that sent several audience members whooping and keeling over.
She said, "An' mind how yuh a tek set pon slackness, for if yuh nature start fi rise, yuh might have to kuum affa de DJ dem back and tek things inna fi yuh owna 'an'." With no radio and TV broadcasts to bridle her unfettered lips, she made no bones about how she feels about the ban on certain dancehall music.
Cooper's own laws
Professor Carolyn Cooper - was a law unto herself.
The University of the West Indies' lecturer, who makes a living by teaching English, was a law unto herself. She made Vybz Kartel and Spice look like cherubs in heaven, as she vented lyrically, even admitting that 'puss and cock nuh hav the same luck'. When she was finished, Blackwood Meeks refused to go back onstage, waiting for Cooper's heat to subside. And she was no angel, as she declared that no one should call her surname. Blackwood!
Kerryann Brown's clear, sweet voice was like honey upon your tongue. In a blue gown, set against her dark skin, and with her left leg exposed by a dramatic split, she was an epitome of sensuality, passion, sexual liberation and Negroid beauty; a literary dessert after the palate-pleasing, pre-show, three-course dinner. At one point, her delivery was so orgasmic her heavy breathing punctuated the stillness of the Mancunian night.
Another PIM debutant, Winroy Orlando Williams, wowed the audience by extolling the virtues of 'Dawn'. He confessed, "Every morning when I wake up I can't help taking a piece of dawn ... imagine that time of morning when nuff people a sleep and the cock rise and start crow at dawn ... When dawn comes mi generally feel at ease ... Dawn is for everyone, but especially for me ... When mi got problems pon mi head, mi go down pon mi knee dem before dawn, and believe it or not, mi feel revitalised by the coming of dawn."
Jah is the Essence of My Life is the song that Yasus Afari used to open his act. At the end of a tribute to mother earth by way of Earth is our Friend, he implored the audience to protect planet Earth. He then segued into his 'ragamuffin side' saying 'mi notice say some boy a walk up and dung wid dem trousers roun' dem ankle a beg money'.
Also rousing his ire are the ones whose pants are like a second skin, and those who 'wear lipstick and fingernail', and compete with women for spaces in beauty salons. In Work, he demanded that they go find a job. Audience interaction was integral to his well-received work, which he closed with Patois Talk, glorifying the use of Jamaican Creole and criticising those who turn up their nose at it.
Becoming insane
Hutchinson made you want to become insane by accentuating the power of the madman. "Mi watch dem tremble anytime mi talk because the madman have the power. Because them fraida the mad man. Hahahaa! I powerful, I mighty. Everybody fraida the madman hahahaa! Fraida me bad, bad. Fraida de madman an de man love de power dat him have," she told a laughing audience. The fun continued with her rendition of Workaholic and poems from Inna Mi Heart.
Mutabaruka came in his trademark no-nonsense mood, telling what history is, and since he doesn't have a colour problem, he said, "I come from a black womb, enter a black world, filled with black devils doing every thing black that was bad. In the blackest corner of my mind, I created nothing of colour. My soul filled with devils sowing seeds of ugliness. Black magic, cast in shadows of past pains, ugliness prevails, black as sin. Yet, I entered a black flesh that conceived a black child who was taught on a black slate by way of a black board."
The show opened with a dance from Ayahedah and Flames, and there was a two-part fashion show of African-inspired outfits from Reggie's African Link. Other performers were debutant, Tobagonian Bobo Niyah; attorney-at-law and businessman Wayne Chen; Ann Marie Wilmott; Kimberley Wint; newspaper columnist Kevin O'Brien Chang; Bishop Gibson's Ashley Little and Edna Manley College's Tanhoi. Ernie Ranglin provided his regular brand of vintage music. Part proceeds from the show went to Ebenezer House for mentally challenged street-people.
Mutabaruka - came in his trademark no-nonsense mood. - file photos