Mutabaruka Speaks on Black History on Cutting Edge 1-31-2018

I was listening to Mutabaruka's Cutting Edge radio show on January the 31st, previewing Black History Month which would begin the next day. The Bredren reasoned in depth about the brainwashing that plagues African people and how we get caught in European interpretations and philosophy. Basically, how as black people we just accept European culture, embrace it and defend it as we own. I think its because many of us are lost, especially when it comes to history and culture. Many of us accept European culture, religion and mannerisms without even understanding how these things developed and how they became ingrained in our day to day lives as black people. 

Mutabaruka said:

"Issa mad thing. Is mad we get mad. All a we get caught in it; all a we, there's no exception to the

rule.... Valentine's day a come, most people get caught inna that. Easter a come, it bigger get caught inna because that is the most auspicious 

Mutabaruka

time of the Christian calendar. That nuh have nothing to do with Africa; that nuh have nothing to do with blackness. All when you hear a man talk bout him a read Bible and a try switch the characters in it to black, him thinking is white. Is not the color of the characters, is the mindset that drives the characters in the Bible. So you could a paint Moses black little more, and Jesus Christ black little more, it don't make no difference if what is there yet still wallow inna the same thinking that in the first place tell you they white. We need fi search fi a new understanding, 'cause Planno did say a new faculty of interpretation. Even Rasta get caught inna it. We get caught inna it to the point where now that we all Jews, heh-heh, and we love say it too, and 'we are Christian soldiers, onward Christian soldiers marching on.' Our reference is always in the context of European understanding. So we define and we use logic that is determined and decided by western thinkers, western philosophers, and we don't know how to decipher what is ours and what is not ours..."

Now I can guess that many readers are thinking, So what? Jamaica (or any other Caribbean country) is a Christian society. 

Yeah, but how did it get so? And, if we know that it was forced upon our forefathers, then why black people so quick and ready to defend it? And worse, if you tell some of we that Shango is we thing, is our culture, some of us going to get vex and tell you that you working obeah. 

Now, get this straight: I am not a follower or practitioner of any form of obeah or voodoo. But those things are our own African thing and I acknowledge them as such. I even embrace the knowledge, knowing full well that just because Europe says that these things are inequity and idolatry, doesn't make them less important or less-than anything for that matter. Black history and culture is our story, its rich and we need to learn to embrace our African selves.

Mutabaruka stated:

"African sensibility don't prevail inna the Jamaican society. We celebrate almost 360-odd days of white history and tomorrow is the first day of February, which is Black History Month. But most people will not, and I'll repeat, most people will not even think of commemorating Black History Month. As one, young politician say, 'Black History Month is irrelevant to Jamaica. It was started in America because of the need, and because of how white people was treating black people in America so that was the necessary in America but here it don't necessary.'

But it more necessary yahso. Because the slave master left all of him thinking here and it embedded and pinned down inna we. That all when him no deh yah (when he's not here) we are living out the slave masters ideas and philosophies. And we even implement it and institutionalize it inna we politics, inna we religion, inna we social order..."

Another point I thoroughly agree with. We uphold Christmas, which is a lie, and turn our noses at Kwanzaa? And give all kind of reasons why we won't support it; bout how that is an American thing.

But Ethiopian Orthodox (one of the oldest Christian churches) doesn't celebrate the 25th as Christ's birthday. You know who instituted the 25th as Christmas? Rome. So, in fact we following the Romans. So, we following Rome, but can't see the goodness in a Pan-African concept like Kwanzaa? Or, Black History Month?

Because these are American holidays that have nothing to do with us. But we celebrating Halloween!? Stop the madness.

Caribbean Short Story: Jumbie Come To School

                                  Yolan Mo Jumbie Come To School ( A #Caribbean Story)

                                            copyright K. Omodele 2016

Twilight had just done finished stretching and yawning over Watooka Day Primary, the morning Yolan Mo jumbie* did rise up from where so ever she had lain and fly sheself high-high over the school compound, a dozen or so minutes before the bell was to ring. For weeks now, people all about town had been talking.

"Is such a tragic thing, how a little, young girl like dat dead so before she time."

"It mek you wonder if is obeah** somebody obeah de family."

Some people even claimed they saw her jumbie at night- walking up the New Road by the bauxite plant; under the calabash tree in the old Cummings' haunted-house backyard; sitting still in darkness down by the market in front Crescent Cinema; even over the river wandering 'bout The Valley of Tears in Wismar- always at night time. But this morning the schoolyard was so busy screeching like flocks of parakeets, nobody ain't even notice Yolan Mo jumbie fluttering overhead, discombobulated in the young-morning sunlight.

Nearly everybody was buzzing-hyped over the upcoming school track and field games*** - boys dashing sprints, some of them trotting long-distance runs 'round the compound, way back behind Grades One and Two, come up back under the mango tree around KG (kindergarten) and then back up to the main gate. Although some of the girls were Chinese skipping and some handled netball, many of them trained, running races among themselves just like the boys.

And even though from up above the jumbie could detect their constant movements and patter-pattering of Bata**** canvasses and rubber soles slapping the pavement, none of the children saw Yolan Mo float over the second tier banister, sail sheself down the said tier over book bags and lunch boxes that had been lined up behind each other to hold spots in line, then dart right through Grade Six's open door, circle the classroom twice, then promptly settle her weary bones plumb 'pon top her old desk.

"The Hundred" was a concrete stretch from the school's rusty front gate, darting straight past tropical-pastel-pink Grade Three, then brakesing up under rickety Grade Four. The children raced in waves of six or seven and as one race 'crossed the finish line, the next set of runners lined up at the starting mark by the gate.

As they dropped on their knees to their marks, Rabbit said to Magga Gavin. "You really think I gon let no fine-foot boy like you win me?"

Magga Gavin played like he didn't hear, but down on his next side Milo stuck up for him.

"Ey Rabbit,  your buck teeth riding out yuh mouth like Jolen Joseph***** racing cycle." Milo rounded his shoulders and shifted his body like he was pedaling hard. "Go Jolen, Go! Go Jolen, Go!"

The boys and girls gathered at the starting line joined in. "Go Jolen, Go!" And then broke out in bare laughs.

Even Rabbit start grinning; but, his eyes searched Milo and Gavin furtively, then squinting he shot back.

"And you, big head Milo, forehead so big is a five-head, six-head." From his one-knee mark, he pointed at the two boys. "Must be some drunken obeah man****** work obeah 'pon two a you. He fuck up and give your head elephantitis and shrink your foot."

The children burst out again, getting giddy now, with more laughs.

On the line, Pickie got back down to business. "Make we run if we running, nuh man. B-House gon win everything this year. B-House is Boss House."

"Boss House, wha'? Win everything like wha'?" Milo wrenched up his face. "Pickie boy, you is eleven years old with a mouthstash like a big man. You shouldn even be running against young cock like we, you old fowl, yuh. How much time you flunk Grade Five? A-House is All-Star House."

Rabbit rolled his eyes. "A-House is one big antiman House. And B-House is bu'n house-it burn down like Yolan Mo house."

Soon as he said her name, everybody got dread and serious.  Vexed faces screwed up like it was Rabbit self who nailed Christ up to the Cross. Shocked, eyes grew wide; frightened, eyes fell to the ground.

Pickie jooked his finger in Rabbit's face.

"Mind how you putting yuh mouth 'pon the dead, Fool!"

At that moment, Mr. Otto plodded out Grade Five door like some big, box-head bull cow with the school bell in hand. Lifted it and pounded like a hammer.

DING-a-LING-a-LING

Like marabuntas******* to nests, the children found their spots in lines outside their classes, boys quickly tucking shirts in pants, girls hurriedly smoothing down their uniform skirts. They hoisted book bags and lunch boxes then got in wild-cane******** strict lines- no talking, no fidgeting, no nonsense, waiting for class Prefects or teachers to usher them into class.

Grades Four, Five and Six were on the second floor of the main building, so these students climbed the stairs to get to class. Pickie was third-to-last in the Grade Six line as his classmates filed through the door behind Miss, who flicked the light switch on as they all streamed in. By the time Pickie entered, everybody had stopped dead in their tracks beside Miss' desk at the head of the class. Even Miss froze, her eyes wide behind cat-eyed spectacles, jaw unlocked, flashing gold fillings.

Pickie scanned the room, then saw it for himself. Right there on top of Yolan Mo's desk, where none of his classmates ever sat. At that point somebody said:

"Is Yolan Mo come back!"

Then came a scream, chased by more screams. The jumbie sheself squealed then flapped and zipped up to the ceiling, flying 'round and 'round.

One of the girls, Pickie thought it might be Nikki, seemed like she was running scared in place before she found traction and shot top-speed out the door. By then half the class was hauling tail down the tier towards the stairs, screaming and bawling, frightened and 'fraid. Pickie was stuck running behind slow pokes, so he just climbed over the railing and jumped. Landed, rolled, then sprang up with a sharp pain shooting in his left ankle. He limped to the back gate ahead of the others.

Mr. Otto had heard the big commotion from over in his Grade Five class and rolled over to Grade Six. The flying object nearly bucked into him, so he grabbed a broom and swatted the air, until finally, it found the doorway and flapped her wings into the morning sky.

He half- laughed, shouting. "Is only a bat!"

Pickie watched from outside the back school gate, wondering why in the world Yolan Mo jumbie woulda want come in form of a bat.

* also jumby. Duppy. Ghost; spirit

**obeah is the name for vodou in the English-speaking West Indies

***Intramural games. Students are divided into Houses that compete against each other

****A brand of cheap/affordable athletic and dress shoes

*****a national racing cyclist

******vodou man; a so-called witch doctor <-- don="" i="" like="" p="" t="" term="" this="">

*******a type of wasp

********wild cane is used for caning, in-school discipline