The African Oral Tradition of Storytelling in Dancehall: Early B, The Doctor

        The African Oral Tradition of Storytelling in Dancehall: Early B, The Doctor

                    by Kaya Omodele 

(first published in Method Mecca Magazine for @ZigZee)

"When an old man (griot) dies, it is as if a library has burnt down." 

- African proverb

When it comes to storytelling, Early B - The Doctor had lyrics by the bag, plus style in his delivery. I've said it before, I rate a dancehall artist first and foremost by his/her lyrical content - I rate highly the artistry in spoken word. I love it when a lyricist communicates message, experience, and cultural relevance in song. And so, Earlando Arrington Neil was a modern-day griot the way he brought past events to life for his audience.

I first heard him chat back in The Eighties on one of my bredren's dancehall cassettes and I still remember how he related the story of His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie I's visit to Jamaica in 1966. Since I hadn't even been born back then, my only knowledge of the emperor's visiting Jamdown came from Early B because up to that time I hadn't read any account of the event.

I will never forget the year because the griot sang

"It was the year nineteen sixty-six/ when Selassie I made a visit..."

The artist's words sketched and painted the scene for me.  I saw, vividly,  the rain dripping that day, then easing up once the Emperor's plane landed. I could hear the roar of tens of thousands of people. Early B's words painted the flock of wild birds flying down, then pitching on the plane's wing before Selassie stepped out

"...with him lion an' him stick

inna him military clothes with the sword 'pon him hip..."

Later on in life when I read the details of His Imperial Majesty's visit, the written account only affirmed my mental image which was first created by the storyteller's artistry. Early B, The Doctor, had many songs I will never forget because his descriptions and timing were colorful and exciting.

Other Early B songs that tell stories:

One Wheel Wheely - Early B heralds David Weller and Xavier Miranda (Jamaican National Team Cyclists) and give drama about a crew of youth cyclists riding through town

Sunday Dish - help Early B cook his Sunday dinner; he lists every delicious thing on his menu.

On The Mountaintop

What life has taught me
I would like to share with
Those who want to learn...

- Bob Marley Intro to the song War (Excerpt from speech by HIM Haile Selassie)

 On The Mountaintop

Copyright 2010 K. Omodele

I have a Bredren who thinks I am madder than one a them running [of the] bulls because I love morning time alone on top of Stone Mountain. And I am ecstatic sharing time on a swing with my little niece. He doesn’t really comprehend how much I enjoyed pedal boats with my cousin (and two Sistren). He doesn’t choose to feel the sense of urgency I have in creating moments. And that's cool, he and I have different perspectives when it comes to the passage of time - we look at life through different spectacles.

I have missed out on moments that many people my age have experienced: high school proms/ dances/ fetes; getting married; a son’s/daughter’s birth; a first word, first step, first day at school. But on the other hand, there are no ex-wives lurking, no all he money (alimony), and no support payments due of any kind.

There’s much that I’ve missed, so right now I am considering moments like a canvass and creating masterpieces. Them damn pedal boats had me sweating like a Preakness stallion, but guess what? I savored the whole scene the way an accident survivor appreciates life after avoiding that “bright Light.” Some of the things I’ve experienced since I “came home” I never thought of doing…EVER! Like visiting a winery (and I don’t mean a dance hall); and meditating on Stone Mountain top. I danced with my aunt and her friends at de Luna’s (a Spanish, as in Spaniard, lounge). I realize these are not things that the average person would write home about, but my reality three years ago was hard like a flogging...HARD like iron bars...I mean HARD like penitentiary yards. So I man give thanks and praises to the Almighty for seeing me through. And though I cannot promise HIM that I will be the perfect son, an Ingel on earth nor unwavering in spirit, I do promise to notice his beautiful WORKS – the burning sunset; the bright moon suspended against a deep purple back drop glittering with tightly-scattered stars; an ebony Empress and her breath-snatching smile; my pushing-ninety granny with her life-pleated skin and sly, twinkling eyes; and the way I feel, high, on top of Stone Mountain after hauling myself out of the depths within the beast.

Bredren, you’ll never catch the exhilaration painted in a passing moment until you are forced to stare at time frozen stiff.

Atlanta Sunset

Taken from Pedal Boats @ Tidal Basin, Washington, DC

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