There is wisdom in Marley–an ancient, Armageddon that flows through his parables and prophecies, his sermons and his sorrows. He is the Bible, the Black man, fire for the Babylon.
There is wisdom in Rudder- an ancient , mystical wisdom that bubbles and trickles in his chants and rituals, his rhythms and his sarcasm. He is Asante, the Ashanti, a tidal wave for the Babylon. Marley is God energy. Rudder, Goddess. One is signifcant. To have both is phenomenal. That the world has access to the music of these two gigantic men is in itself a wonderful thing, but the Caribbean can claim then family, and Jamaica and a Trinidad are blessed to call them sons. But do they? These two mighty music makers, touched by Divinity by birth, have gone forth and multiplied, sharing their spiritdances in song, with a people they have remembered in every line.
And those of us who remember them, have stood in the power and the glory of their art. But those who remember past Caribbean brilliance are few, and those who recognised present Caribbean brilliance are even fewer. We blunder around in blind servitude, victim to a range of foreign investors. Investors who have an interest in nothing more than our sheep-like adoration, and our disposable tissue income. So we give our youth away to he first world in a white wedding, from which divorce is almost impossible. We’ve decided to salvation lies in heir snowy mountains, that acceptance is dependent on their favorite colour, size, being ‘baaaad’, shoe name. Shoe name? Shame! And yet putrid swamp of poom, pooms and batties to get the clean water of our natural, positive vibes.
Just like Marley went don the river to wash his dreads and Rudder urges his people to let Yemanja wash their sins away, we need a bath, a bush bath.
A bush bath with roots.