text: UFDC Home | Help | RSS TABLE OF CONTENTS HIDE Front Cover Table of Contents Main Reviews Back Cover Title: Jamaica journal ALL VOLUMES CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE Full Citation STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00090030/00049 Material Information Title: Jamaica journal Series Title: Jamaica journal. Abbreviated Title: Jam. j. Physical Description: v. : ill. (part col.) ; 31 cm. Language: English Creator: Institute of Jamaica Publisher: Institute of Jamaica. Place of Publication: KingstonKingston Publication Date: November-January 1985-1986 Frequency: semiannualregular Subjects Subject: Periodicals -- Jamaica ( lcsh ) Genre: periodical ( marcgt ) Spatial Coverage: Jamaica Notes Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with Dec. 1967 issue. Record Information Bibliographic ID: UF00090030 Volume ID: VID00049 Source Institution: University of Florida Holding Location: University of Florida Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location. Resource Identifier: oclc - 01797964lccn - 75027862 issn - 0021-4124 Table of Contents Front Cover Front Cover 1 Front Cover 2 Table of Contents Page 1 Main Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Reviews Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Back Cover Page 65 Page 66 Full Text s-i \11 N XYw IT \~X~~ 411 wl... aq h! Zs? mrqJ 9 -IF Treasures of Jamaican Heritage A '.4A STAR SHAPED GUITAR This star shaped guitar is one of the unique and beautiful musical instruments made for use in worship by Everald Brown who is among Jamaica's foremost Intuitive artists. Many of Brown's works are created through visionary experience and the musical instrument is a persistent image in his paintings. This instrument is tuned to the first four strings of the guitar and utilizes steel strings. It is among the collection of traditional musical instruments owned by the Jamaica School of Music. " Alp' Jamaica Journal is published on behalf of the Institute of Jamaica 12 -16 East Street, Kingston, Jamaica by Institute of Jamaica Publications Ltd. All correspondence should be addressed to IOJ Publications Ltd. 2A Suthermere Road, Kingston 10, Jamaica Telephone: (809) 92-94785/6 Editor Olive Senior Assistant Editor Maxine Patricia McDonnough Design and Production Camille Parchment Marketing D.E. Innerarity Liane Gayle Support Services Faith Myers Eton Anderson Typesetting Patsy Smith Back issues: Most back issues are available. List sent on request. Entire series available on microfilm from University Microfilms, Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106, U.S.A. Subscriptions: J$40 for four issues (in Jamaica only); U.S.$15, U.K.10. Retail single copy price: J$12 (in Jamaica only); overseas U.S.$5 or U.K.3 post paid surface mail. Advertising: Rates sent on request. Index: Articles appearing in Jamaica Journal are abstracted and indexed in Historical Abstracts and America: History and Life. Vol. 18 No. 4 Copyright 1985 by Institute of Jamaica Publications Limited. Cover or contents may not be reproduced in wholeor in part without written permission. ISSN: 0021-4124 Vol. 18 No. 4 JAMAICA QUARTERLY OF THE INSTITUTE OF JAMAICA NOVEMBER 1985-JANUARY 198( HISTORY AND LIFE 10 THE LANGUAGE OF ST. ELIZABETH'S DEAF COMMUNITY by David Dolman 17 ASTLEY CLERK 1868 -1944 PATRIOT AND CULTURAL PIONEER by Cheryl Ryman SCIENCE 29 AQUACULTURE IN JAMAICA: A GROWING INDUSTRY by Frank Ross THE ARTS 2 'THAT CUNNY JAMMA OMAN', THE FEMALE SENSIBILITY IN THE POETRY OF LOUISE BENNETT by Carolyn Cooper 38 EVAN JONES: MAN OF TWO WORLDS by Laura Tanna 46 CHRONICLES OF UNCHAOS: REX NETTLEFORD'S DANCE JAMAICA Reviewed by Edward Kamau Brathwaite REVIEWS Andreas Oberli COVER: Painting by Allan Zion, one of the intuitive artists whose work is discus- sed by Gloria Escoffery in this issue, begin- ning on p.53 53 ART: HARMONY HALL INTUITIVES by Gloria Escoffery 62 BOOKS: CHRISTINE CRAIG'S QUADRILLE FOR TIGERS by Mervyn Morris 60 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 'That Cunny Jamma Oman' The Female Sensibility in the Poetry of Louise Bennett John Dunkley, Woman sitting on stool. Cedar. 12%". By Carolyn Cooper In the poem "Jamaica Oman", the Louise Bennett per- sona1 employs an earthy metaphorical proverb to ex- pose, with obvious relish, the jinnalship and fortitude of the Jamaican female: ...'Oman luck deh a dungle', Some rooted more dan some, But as long as fowl a scratch dungle heap Oman luck mus come! (SP, p.23) In that body of Jamaican folk wisdom transmitted in pro- verb, Anansi story and riddle, is the genesis of an indigenous feminist ideology: the paradigm of a submerged and fated identity that must be rooted up, covertly and assiduously. The existential dungle, the repository of the accumulated waste of the society, becomes in the folk iconography the locus of transformation. It is the dungle, and the dehumaniz- ing social conditions that allow it, which is the enemy of woman, not the male.2 Cunning, rather than overt male/ female confrontation is the preferred strategy for main- taining equanimity. This proverbial cunning of the Jamaican woman is one manifestation of the morally ambiguous craftiness of Anansi, the Akan creator-god, transmuted in Jamaican folklore into Brer Nansi, the archetypal trickster.3 Folktales of the mighty outwitted by the clever proliferate throughout the African diaspora: the shared history of plantation slavery in the Americas consolidates within the psyche of African peoples in the hemisphere, cultural continuities, ancestral memories of sabotage and marronage, systemic resistance to servitude. It is within this broader tradition of neo-African folk con- sciousness the Anansi syndrome that Bennett's elabora- tion of the Jamaican female sensibility can be best under- stood. This thematic/stylistic analysis of Bennett's rendering of the Jamaican female psychology is organized under two broad subject headings: 'Eena Yard', and 'Outa Road', to quote a Bennett persona. I will examine domestic relations: male-female, and mother-child; and extra-domestic affairs: women and work, and women and politics. Eena Yard Male-Female Relations It is the positive, more so than the negative manifestations of the tricksterism of Anansi that Bennett affirms in her tribute to the resourcefulness of the Jamaican female in ordering her domestic affairs with the Jamaican male, ami- cably: Jamaica oman cunny, sah! Is how dem jinnal so? Look how long dem liberated An de man dem never know! Look how long Jamaica oman Modder, sister, wife, sweetheart - Outa road an eena yard deh pon A dominate her part! (SP, p. 21) In the poem "Jamaica Oman", the Bennett persona dif- ferentiates this tradition of indigenous feminism from'foreign lan Oman lib', a more recent social movement: An long before Oman lib bruck out Over foreign lan Jamaica female wasa work Her liberated plan! (SP, p. 22) The legendary Maroon, Nanny, who 'teck her body/Bounce bullet back pon man', (SP, p.21) remains alive in Jamaican folklore because of her militancy against British soldiers, not Maroon men. The allusion to Nanny situates contemporary Jamaican 'oman lib' within a long established heritage of consolidated male/female defense of cultural and political sovereignty.4 'Foreign lan Oman lib' is rejected by the Bennett persona because it fails to acknowledge the strategic differences between men and women: Jamaica oman know she strong, She know she tallawah But she no want her pickney-dem Fi start call her 'Puppa'. So de cunny Jamma oman Gwan like pants-suit is a style, An Jamaica man no know she wear De trousiz all de while! (SP, p. 22) This 'tallawah' Jamaican woman knows when to be appro- priately 'weak' as the complementary poem "Tan-Up Seat" illustrates. The speaker there makes it clear that ritualized codes of decorum ought to govern male-female behaviour, particularly when a tired woman recognizes an able-bodied male seated, on a crowded tramcar: Me doan sey man kean tired to But wen dem want show-off Dem sey ooman is 'weaka sex', An ooman frail and sof'. But wen man go pon tram and lef a Dem mannas a dem yard, Dem gwan like ooman strong like man An cruff an rough an hard! An sometime when shame bun dem shirt Dem start gwan like dem shy, An sidung-man kean look straight eena Tan-up ooman y'eye! (J L, p.49) 0 z It is the tenuous compromise that Jamaican women often make in order to live with their men which Bennett treats with such consummate craftsmanship in "Jamaica Oman". An excellent example of comic irony is the 'role reversal' by means of which women appear to have appropriated the male 4 role as head of the household, but are indeed simply function- t ing true to nature: Some back man a push, some side-a Man a hole him han, Some a lick sense eena man head, Some a guide him pon him plan! (SP, p.22) Lester Hoilett, Male and Female. 1977 Cedar. Height: 14". Nelson Cooper, The Temptation of St. Nelson. 1983 Oil on canvas. 34"x 30". Further, women will tolerate disparaging labels of power- lessness as long as they retain actual power: Neck an neck an foot an foot wid man She buckle hole her own; While man a call her 'so-so rib' Oman a tun backbone! (SP, p.22) The speaker's disdainful allusion to the biblical narrative of origins, conveys her contempt for a sanctimonious partriarchal prejudice that dehumanizes women in the name of religion. Bennett's portrayal of the cunny Jamma oman is not a solemn study of manipulative female politics, or simpering subservience. Good-natured humour, decidedly shading into satire, characterizes her critique. For the poem ends on this ambiguous note: Lickle by lickle man start praise her, Day by day de praise a grow; So him praise her, so it sweet her, For she wonder if him know. (SP, p.23) Two mutually ironic interpretations of this verse suggest that a) even when men concede the benefits of female power they may not be conscious of the jinnalship whereby women only appear to defer to conventional notions of appropriate be- haviour, and b) men may indeed suspect the ruses of women, and simply allow them free reign. In this second reading, jinnalship would not be the exclusive perquisite of the fe- male, as the poem "Racket" illustrates. The speaker there berates the wiliness of the Jamaican male who resorts to subterfuge to escape emotional and material indebtedness during the season of goodwill to all persons: As it come to Chrismus time Dem drop de gal-frien 'biff!' Because dem no waan fi gi De gal no Chrismus gif! (SP, p.21) The 'bif' 'gif' rhyme is particularly apposite. The onomato- poeic 'biff' unlike a 'buff' is lightweight; the rhyme thus carefully balances the weight of the negligent boyfriend's commitment against the worth of the missing gift. The deli- berated drop is a temporary helping down of a burden to be assumed again, at a more convenient season: Dem bwoy dah gwan too bad, yaw mah, An smaddy haffi crack it! Las ear, two weeks from Chrismus Day, One po gal jus seh 'feh', Her bwoy-frien start meck nize an row An get bex an go weh! Him meck de nice-nice gal spen Chrismus Widout a bwoy-frien, An de las week a January Him crawl back een again! (SP, p. 21) In an ironic reading of the poem one begins to suspect the speaker of a bit of unconscious malice. The intensity of her righteous indignation on behalf of the victim, as expressed in the opening four lines of the poem, seem somewhat exces- sive for the offense: Tan! Oonoo know is what wrong wid De bwoy-dem nowadays? Dem is a set a raskill, cho! Dem got real dutty ways! (SP, p.20) By the final three lines, when the speaker is prepared to obli- terate the duly-punished-male-turned-duppy, one is sure that the critique of gross male negligence has been inverted. The joke is on the mourner who is bawling louder than the pri- mary victim: Ef dat gal was like me Next ear him hooda haffi pick Quarrel wid him duppy !(SP, p.21) The ambiguous nature of Jamaican male/female relation- ships, satirized in several Bennett poems, appears antithetical to the single-minded zealousness of divisive 'foreign lan Oman lib' which has its Jamaican equivalent in the predomi- nantly middle-class women's federation movement estab- lished in the 1940s under the patronage of the governor's wife, Lady Huggins.5 This kind of organized movement is essentially different from the perennial struggles of pre- dominantly working-class women to root out their dungle luck. Bennett's treatment of the movement is equivocal. In the poem "Bans O' Ooman", for example, one may detect satire, despite the speaker's laudatory intentions. In "Mass Wedding" and "Registration" tonal irony is even more readi- ly apparent. In "Bans O' Ooman!" the female persona recreates the spontaneous excitement of the launching of the Jamaica Federation of Women designed to bring together women 'high an low, miggle, suspended,/ Every different kine o' class'. (JL p.41). The comic use of the adjective 'suspended', which expresses the speaker's penchant for malapropism, also appropriately intimates the merely temporary suspen- sion of ordinary class values which appear unimportant in the euphoria of the celebratory moment. Indeed, when the woman, who finds herself on the periphery of the gathering in St. George's Hall, attempts to force her way to the centre of the event, she discovers that there is definite resistance to her upward social movement: Me was a-dead fe go inside But wen me start fe try, Ooman queeze me, ooman push me, Ooman frown an cut dem y'eye. (JL, p. 41) Undaunted, she resorts to subterfuge, the rear-entry politics of potential sabotage: Me tek me time an crawl out back me noh meck no alarm, But me practice bans o' tactics Till me ketch up a platform. (J L, p.41) In the final two stanzas of the poem the satire becomes more pointed as one suspects a disjuncture of grandiose in- tention and actual accomplishment: Efyuh ever hear dem program! Ef yuh ever hear dem plan! Ef yuh ever hear de sinting Ooman gwine go do to man! Federation boun to flourish, For dem got bans o' nice plan, A n now dem got de heart an soul Of true Jamaica ooman. (J L, p.41) The optimistic certainty of the last two lines seems pre- mature. One of the many plans of the Federation of Women, to ensure that women enter into properly legal relationships with men, is the subject of "Mass Wedding". Rex Nettleford's gloss on the poem is succinct: The late Mary Morris Knibb of Kingston was a pioneer in the fight against bachelor fatherhood (taken up again in 1965 no- tably by the Soroptomist Club of Jamaica led by Edith Clarke, the anthropologist and social worker). One solution offered by Mrs. Knibb was the mass wedding, organised at little expense to the marrying parties, many of whom might have been living in common-law relationships for years. (JL, p. 30) The speaker who is hastily trying to secure 'one boonoonoo- nos man' (JL, p.30), whom she has just met, seems on the surface to advocate the idea of the mass wedding. But when one notes the imagery of coercion she employs, one concludes that even she is aware that the frantic speed of the enterprise may be matched by the unwilling bridegroom's prowess at escape: Dat lady Mrs. Married Knibbs, She is a real Godsen' For every man now mus tun husband, Dem kean be noh mo' bwoy friend . Ah she meck nine-toe Berty Wed kaas eye Sue you know? An she force awn Mary Fowl-head Pon Miss Biddy cousin Joe. So fine a good man dat yuh hooda Like fe stan up beside, Den see Miss Knibbs an yuh will be Mongs de nex mass wedden brides. (jL, p.31) The speaker's vacillation between the redundant 'Mrs. Mar- ried Knibbs' and the contextually deficient 'Miss Knibbs' seems unintentional and thus reinforces the poem's irony that ultimately the legal distinction is functionally unimport- ant. The class values of the Mary Morris Knibbses, as eviden- ced in "Mass Wedding", go against the grain of a long estab- lished Jamaican folk conviction that one ought not to marry, unless one can do it in style; they also violate the well- documented Jamaican superstition that the legal marriage ceremony can itself undermine the vulnerable balance of extra-legal male/female arrangements. In the poem "Registration", Bennett satirizes yet another campaign of the well-intentioned Federation to coerce the working-class Jamaican male into conformity to the demands of middle-class propriety: the drive to register all fathers. The Bennett persona gleefully advocates the plan, citing three Jamaican proverbs to confirm the unequivocal authority of the proposed law: Every sore foot got him blue-stone, Every tief got him las' deal, Noh care how smaddy dah-gwan bad Sinting deh fe spokes him wheel. (J L, p. 42) Despite this apparent commonality of folk and middle-class values, what the speaker proceeds to do, apparently unwit- tingly, is to draw satirical attention to the social distance between the respectable middle-class women of the federation, who have decent responsible husbands, and the unfortunate, husbandless, working-class women whom the new legislation will seek to elevate. Upstanding middle-class women, with Kay Sullivan, Baby Mother 1. Resin. Height: 24". Hylton Nembhard, Standing Madonna. 1983. Cedar. Height: 20" Osmond Watson, Madonna and Child. Oil on Canvas. 34"x 36". whom the speaker empathizes, can afford to antagonize delinquent males because their own houses are in order: Guess how de man dem gwine bex wid De ooman Federation' (sic) Me glad mose o' de lady dem Married an got dem good husband. For like how somuch bwoy gwan weh And Jamaica short o' man, Dem ooman wat pass de law gwine have De dickans fe hook one! (J L, p.42) In a delightfully ambiguous line the speaker allows that un- married middle-class women might themselves have a hard time hooking a man of their own in this period of social tur- bulence. Long-chin James, who understandably objects to the legis- lation is cursed by the woman: 'go weh, man a debil!' (JL, p.42). But his quick repartee is: 'dat is not no cuss, /For ooman a debil-mumma/So we kean tell which is wus' (JL, 42). James is indeed perceptive. For what is evident from Bennett's wide-ranging portrayal of male-female relationships is that working-class men and women have much more in common than do middle-class and working-class women. In the Jamaican context, class, rather than gender is the func- tional determinant of power. But there is also evidence in Bennett's poetry of the inter- nalization of the values of middle-class domestic order by working-class women who believe that the state of wife. however transitory, is intrinsically superior to that of 'baby- mother' or girlfriend. In the words of one woman, who praises the war for its side benefits: Soh me wi help de war, an ef De war should help me Fe get married, me husband can Gwan fight fe him country. An ef my husband even dead, Me don't seh me won't cry, But de joy dat ah was married Wi meck me satisfy. ( L, pp. 100-101) Similarly, the speaker in the poem "Praises" expresses great joy that with the establishment of the Sandy Gully American base, and the attendant employment opportunities it offers, her status changes: Look how me an joe did live bad. But praise to Sandy Gully! As him get de fus week pay him do So baps married to me. An now him meck love sweeter mah Him style me now as "Honey" Hear him "Ah dat way bout yuh Hons Ah hopes yuh goes fo'me". (JL, pp. 98-99) There is the inevitable irony that the 'ten-poun baby pram' (JL, p.99), bought in the first flush of prosperity has to be converted into a fish cart when Joe is laid off and must revert to his usual occupation. Even though he is later recruited for the migrant labour scheme to the U.S., his wife's anticipation - 'Wat a way we dah-go bruck sport/Wen we ketch a U.S.A. -' (JL, p.99) must be tempered by the advice of yet another Bennett persona: Betta yuh tan home fight yuh life Than go a-sea go lose i. De same sinting wey sweet man mout Wi meck him lose him head, Me read eena newspapa sey Two farm-man meet dem dead! (JL, p.94) But the new wife's optimism is unshakeable: Me still love me Jamaica mam, But like a tenkful wife Me haffa praise American Fe put me eena life. (J L, p. 99) Mother and Child Relations It is this aspiration that their families be 'put eena life' which governs the child-rearing practices of Bennett's vocal women. The proverbial ring of James's uncomplimentary ob- servation that 'ooman a debil-mumma' reinforces the fact that women married or not are largely responsible for the socialization of children in Jamaica. Though there are very few Bennett poems that deal specifically with mother/ child relations, there is.a group, the theme of which is the aggressive ambition of mothers that their children, particu- larly their sons, acquire education, the entree to middle-class culture. Fluency in the English language is an important rite of passage, which must be accomplished whether by formal schooling or as a consequence of living 'in foreign' or 'in town'. The male persona in the poem "Writing Home" expresses retrospective gratitude to his mother for her attention to his education: 'Ah did soh glad yuh did force me fe teck de zamination /Far now ah can demands a job fe suit me edi- cation'. (JL, p. 117) There is pathos in the disparity between the young man's expectations and what he appears equip- ped to do. Indeed, the muted humour in the poem derives from the fact that though unemployed, he has joined a trade union and is 'on strike': I is not working now but ah jine in a labour set An ah 'ope to keep awn striking Tell some esteem jab ah get. (J L, p. 116) A satirical portrait of an indulgent, self-congratulatory mother is given in the poem "New Scholar". The mother's misguided concern for her son's well-being is apparent in her words of advice to the boy's teacher, on his first day in school: No treat him rough, yaw, Teacher; Him is a sickly chile: As yuh touch him hard him meck nize - Some people seh him pwile. Teck time wid him, yaw, Teacher - If him rude an start fi rave Dis beat anodder bwoy, an him Wi frighten an behave. For nuff time when him rude a yard An woman hear me at all Ah just beat de bed-poas hard, mah, An yuh waa fi hear jack bawl! (SP, pp. 8-9) A similarly satirical poem is "Uriah Preach", which holds up to comic scrutiny the self-incriminatory pride of mis- guided maternalism. Rhonda Cobham-Sander's gloss on the poem is accurate: 'Bennett recounts the vicarious pleasure taken by a Jamaican mother in the accomplishments of her children and especially in her son's ability to use his occasion- al ascent to the pulpit to lambast the family's enemies':6 Fi-me famby is no peaw-peaw, Me daughter Sue dah teach; An when rain fall or parson sick Me son Uriah preach. Him climb up pon de pulpit, him Lean over an look dung, Him look pon all we enemy An lash dem wid him tongue. Him tell dem off, dem know is dem, Dem heart full to de brim; But as Uriah eena pulpit Dem cyaan back-answer him. (SP,pp. 60-61) The general tenor of the mother/child relations described in Bennett's poetry, is aphoristically expressed by the per- ceptive speaker in "Bear Up"; 'Noh mock mawga cow, him a bull muma'. (JL, p. 53) Outa Road Women and Work The majority of Bennett's women are engaged in tradition- ally female, working-class occupations: domestic labour and higglering. Both are low-paid, higglering far less so in recent times, with the rise of the internationally travelled female merchant class. The supply of prospective domestic labour- ers far exceeds demand, and employer/employee relations often reflect the market-value of the domestic servant. But a definite shift in the balance of power occurs when domes- tic servants come to recognize that their labour is essential to the smooth functioning of the middle-class household. The female servant in the poem "Seeking a Job", for ex- ample, makes it clear that domestic labour is not her prefer- red avocation. She will only descend to certain quite specific tasks, stated in her job description: Ah cook an wash, but sake o' me nails Ah doan clean floor again But a can get a gal fe do Dat fe yuh now-an-den. (J L, p. 192) Furthermore, if antagonized, she will simply withdraw her services: ... the las' ooman ah work wid Didn' have no fault to fine. Doah wen she start tek liberty wid me Ah lif up and walk out, For as ole-time people sey 'yuh play Wid dawg dem lick yuh mout'. Ah hooden stan har facetiness, Far we wasn' company, (JL, p. 191) A humorous example of class antagonism resolved by the conjuring up of a fictitious male relative occurs in the poem "Me Bredda". The speaker, a vociferous domestic servant, Albert Huie, The Reapers. c. 1940. 93 "x 6'". cows a middle-class woman into submission in a dispute arising from the servant's tardiness in arriving for work - the very first day. The housewife attempts to fire the woman on the spot, but is bombarded by a spate of abusive rhetoric: Oono call me bredda fi me! Beg yuh tell him come yah quick! Tell him bring him pelt-yuh-kin cow-cod An bus-yuh-open stick! Me naw meck no joke wid you, mah! Quick an brisk an pay me off, Or ah call me bredda in yah Meck him beat you till yuh sof! (SP, p.18) One is seduced into admiring the daring subterfuge of the outrageous servant: Yuh would like fi know me bredda? Me cyaan help you eena dat. Me hooda like know him meself, For is me one me parents got! (SP, p. 19) Yet one senses the moral impropriety of her victory; this trickster sabotages the very economic system she pretends to enter, employing Anansi tactics to accomplish pragmatic goals. She is a remarkable contrast to the uncharacteristical- ly submissive domestic servant in "My Dream", who does not openly rebel against her truly exploitative cousin/employer. She displaces her aggression on the clothes that she is forced to launder: Ah swear ah mus fine a way Fi wounded cousin Rose, An ah think it hooda hut her If ah start maltreat de clothes. (SP, p. 112) She consoles herself with the proverbial certainty that moral rightness will inevitably be restored: Dog a sweat but long hair hide i, Mout a laugh, but heart a leap! Everything wha shine no gole piece. (SP, p. 113) This sublimatory use of proverbs in a potentially explosive context of class antagonism is an excellent example of lin- guistic subterfuge, indirection as a strategy to preserve psy- chic wholeness. These apparently divergent responses to domestic labour/economic exploitation overt and covert sabotage are essentially manifestations of the Anansi syndrome. The Anansi mentality is also evident in the behaviour of the higglers who speak in "South Parade Peddler" and "Candy-Seller". Their dramatic monologues counterpoint open cajoling of potential customers with sotto voce invec- tive: ... Come here nice white man Don't pass me by soh sah! See me begin by de roadside Come buy a nice wangla. Wen w'ite people go fe ugly Massa dem ugly sah. Koo 'ow dat deh man face heng dung Lacka wen jackass feel bad. (JL, p.29) Another higgler who eloquently affirms the importance of her trade for the well-being of her family, is a single parent, whose market basket is causing offence to fellow passengers on a bus: Yuh can cuss me, yuh can beat me, Yuh can call me all de 'it; Do anything yuh want wid me But lefde basket. For dis basket is me all-in-all, Me shillin, pence an poun; It is me husband an me frien, Me jewel an me crown. Me ha six pickney an sence me Stop teck dem Pa to court Dis dutty, brucksy basket yah Is dem ongle support. (SP, p. 92) Attempts by women to support themselves in non- traditional occupations is the theme of "Footworks". The speaker lauds the first female recruit into the Jamaica Con- stabulary Force: We haffe do we bes, tun eas, Tun wes, tun right about We kean afford fe meck de man Police dem beat we out. ( L, p. 70) The choice of 'afford' appropriately emphasizes the in- creased wages that women will earn in a traditionally male occupation, and which they dare not relinquish simply be- cause they cannot manage the heavy police boots: Lif up yuh foot gal, practise up Fe tun ooman police. Oonoo mus bring two clothes-iron Fe tie pon oono foot. So we can practise how fe wear De heavy police boot. (j L, p. 70) The clothes iron selected to assist women in their new field of work is a comic reminder of the domestic labour force from which they have now graduated. The final verse of the poem humorously suggests that there is no essential differ- ence in the capacities of the male and female recruits: Go outa jail an watch good who de Man-police dem do Yuh might fine nuff o' dem wid De same trouble as yuh. (J L, p. 71) Women and Politics Women's engagement in the political process is similar- ly motivated by the desire to share with men the benefits of increased economic opportunities. Pragmatism characterizes the attitudes of Bennett's women to politics. In an interest- ing pair of poems, "New Govanah" and "Mrs. Govanah", it is evident that affairs of state are acknowledged as import- ant only to the degree that they guarantee perceptible material benefits. Mervyn Morris's gloss on "New Govanah" is lucid: The poem ridicules the fuss made over the arrival of a new governor (Sir John Huggins) in 1943. People, it says, are be- having as though the Governor were really valuable and worth worrying about, like steak, or white rice, or condensed milk - commodities scarce during the war . .. Unlike those people who have dressed up, the speaker is not in awe of the Governor, and she wonders whether (in accordance with a common Jam- aican decency) he has brought any message or parcel from her boy-friend Joe . . There are courteous ironies within the final stanza. The Governor is implied to be irrelevant and out of key with ordinary needs and values: he has brought nothing for her, neither material things nor values. (SP, pp. 130-31) Similarly, in "Mrs. Govanah", the speaker mistakes the commotion caused by the ritual passage of the Governor's wife through Nathan's department store, as being precipi- tated by the distribution of 'free ile or green banana'. (JL, p.126). Images of oral gratification are frequently used by these women in cynical reference to organized politics. In the poem "Rightful Way" the persona gives advice on the proper way to vote, noting that politicians, the main bene- ficiaries of adult suffrage, would be deprived of nourish- ment if the system were sabotaged: Yuh know how de genkleman dem Weh dah-gi speech all bout Hooda bex fe know yuh help fe teck De pap out o' dem mout. (JL, p. 135) Female politicians are not exempt from ridicule. The speaker in the poem "Which One" questions the competence of all the candidates up for election, including the female representative: Pose we try a ooman an she Teck it put eena her lap An go get up absent-minded Meck we constitution drop! (JL, p. 136) A more sympathetic, though equally problematic image of a female politician is given in "Big Tings", which documents the in-fighting between two high-powered male politicians, the Hon. Sir Alexander Bustamante, and the Rev. E.E. Mc Laughlin:7 De po' woman councillor nevah sey a ting, She stay quiet like lamb, She watch all de man dem antics An shet up her mout 'pam'. Me noh blame de po' ooman mah, Because is she one, An de po' ting mus feel frighten Mongs dem blood-t'irsty man. (jL, p. 151) The female politician's silence is as eloquently damning as the verbosity of the American consultant in "Distinguish Merican", imported to assist in launching the 'Be Jamaican, Buy Jamaican' campaign. But wen speaks leggo speech An Amy ask wha dat, Hear Me: 'Wuds, wuds, dem deh is wuds, Is pure wuds dem a-chat.' Hear Amy: 'Wuds? Wha kine o' wuds?' Me sey: 'Gran wuds, me dear, Wuds can' express de wuds, Dat man mout full o' wuds yuh hear!' (JL, p. 158) The empowerment of the Jamaican woman, as portrayed in Louise Bennett's substantial poetry, is not accomplish- ed by mere dependence on the flatulent rhetoric of poli- ticians though participation in the political process is essential for all: Everybody got a vote, an Every vote gwine swell de score; Missa Issa, Missa Hanna, An de man wat sweep de store. (JL, p.129) John Dunkley, Woman sitting sideways. Cedar. 15 ". What is of equal consequence is that meta-political conviction of intrinsic worth, validated by the proverbial wisdom of the folk, that 'ooman day wi come at las'. (JL p.93) Out of the compost heap of history the cunny Jamma oman, in her maternal role of mother hen, must root up for herself the prophetic certainty that 'oman luck mus come! (SP, p. 23) Notes 1. For two accounts of Bennett's use of persona see Mervyn Morris's Introduction to Louise Bennett's Selected Poems pp. xvii-viii and Lloyd Brown's West Indian Poetry, Boston: Twayne, 1978, p.116. 2. See, for example, the poignant description of the dungle in chapter 1 of Orlando Patterson's The Children of Sisyphus, London: New Authors Ltd., 1964. 3. See, Laura Tanna, "Anansi Jamaica's Trickster Hero", Jam- aica Journal, 16: 2, May 1983. 4. See, for example, Lucille Mathurin's The Rebel Woman in the British West Indies During Slavery, Institute of Jamaica, 1975, pp. 34-37. 5. For an autobiographical account of her career in Jamaica, see Molly Huggins, Too Much To Tell, London: Heinemann, 1967. 6. Rhonda Cobham-Sander, "The Creative Writer and West Indian Society: Jamaica 1900-50", Diss. U. of St. Andrews, 1981. Ann Arbor: UMI, 1984, p.241. 7. For an abbreviated description of the affair, see Rex Nettleford's gloss on the poem, JL, p.150. REFERENCES BENNETT, Louise, Jamaica Labrish, Rex Nettleford (ed.), Kingston: Sangster's, 1966 (references cited parenthetically in text indi- cated by JL. The orthography of this collection differs from that of the later, more readable SP). Selected Poems, Mervyn Morris, (ed.), Kingston: Sangster's, 1982, (references cited parenthetically in text indicated by SP). The Language of St Elizabeth's Deaf Community By David Dolman T he three mile stretch of road .B" between Junction and Top Hill offers a typical south St Elizabeth scene: plains and sea to the south, the outermost ridge of the Santa Cruz Mountains to the north. Dotted across the countryside are small houses with flat or thatched roofs, smeared with orange-red soil rich in bauxite. The people who live in these houses make their liv- ing from tending a few cows or goats or from tilling an acre or two of land and, as such, lead lives typical of rural Jamaicans. What few visitors realize, as they travel this unassuming highway, is that they are in the midst of a people who not only understand no English but who, in addition, use a language em- ployed in no other place in the world. This is the deaf community of St Elizabeth. Background Information I became acquainted with this group of people about three years ago when I visited Jamaica for the first time. As a teacher of the deaf, I was offered the job of coordinating the deaf education teacher training programme at Mico College in Kingston, through the U.S.- based Mennonite Central Committee. Part of my orientation to the island included a stop at the Maranatha School for the Deaf, the focal point of activi- ties for St Elizabeth's deaf community. At that time, I was introduced to Her- bert Douglas, better known as Headley, LIFE NEAR TOP HILL where hearing (right, centre at top and far right) and deaf folk . (centre, below and right) live amicably toget- - her; many hearing people understand at least rudimentary 'country' sign language. At ex- 4 treme right is the school and below, the church 0 under construction by members of the deaf community who volunteer their labour every Saturday. ,-00'F - 0000e who lives at the school and, now in his mid-thirties, is the leader of the community. Along with a handful of other adult members of the community, Headley has had the benefit of some formal education and, for that reason, is skilled in the 'standard' sign language used both in the United States and in all of Jam- aica except for the St Elizabeth com- munity. Because I am able to com- municate in standard sign language, Headley served as interpreter in con- versations with people who only use the St Elizabeth version, known by deaf Jamaicans as 'country' sign language. Headley is one of the few members of the St Elizabeth community who is not native to the area, having grown up in St Catherine. Although his parents could hear, each of his five siblings was born deaf. At the age of nine, Headley was enrolled in the Christian Deaf Fellowship school in Kingston. He stay- ed at the school for 15 years, working for six years as a dorm supervisor after graduating at age 18. One of the stu- dents in his charge was a young boy from St Elizabeth, Webster Clarke, whose deaf father told school officials about the large deaf community in St Elizabeth and of the need for a school there. Eventually, Headley and one of the teachers from the Christian Deaf Fellow- ship school, an American named Fay Mumaw, moved to the Top Hill area where, through the help of the Jamaica Mennonite Church and other organi- zations, money was raised to buy two acres of land and build a two-classroom school building. Miss Mumaw served as principal, teacher, and chief fundraiser for the school during the first four years of its existence, but when she left Jam- aica in 1980, the school closed. In 1982, the school re-opened and has enrolled 10 to 20 deaf students each year since that time. In addition to its educational function, it has served as a gathering place for the past 10 years for the 200-plus deaf people reported by Headley to live in the area. During 1985, a top floor was added where Headley, as pastor to the deaf com- munity, conducts weekly church services in country sign language. Every Satur- day, 18 to 20 deaf people volunteer their labour toward construction of their own church building a few hundred yards from the school. Completion of this building is expected by early 1986. Little is known about the origins of the St Elizabeth deaf community. H.P. fj C sun' 'A4.4. !*9 1 '. ,l 't r! L. i~; -,P'-i nWr ' 1.9 ski A~I: , 'COUNTRY' SIGN LANGUAGE: Members of the St Elizabeth deaf community using their signs. Those on the opposite page are demon- strating their name signs. Headley (this page) signs 'glasses' as part of his name while his wife Lovette (far left, below) signs 'fat' as part of hers. Among the other identifiable signs are those for Friday (slaughter day, above) and the sign for woman (hand under breast, left, centre). Jacobs [1953] discounted the view, popular among the deaf, that the re- latively fair complexions of many people in the parish are due to a German ship- wreck. He believed it more likely that the racial backgrounds of the region's in- habitants have been influenced by Indian tribes indigenous to the island or by Scottish settlers who, unsuccess- ful in their attempts to establish a colony in Panama, migrated to the coast of St Elizabeth. Reasons for the high inci- dence of deafness are even more obscure although, clearly, heredity and inter- marriage now work together to maintain the population of deaf people in the region. Almost all of the members of the hearing impaired community are profoundly deaf rather than hard of hearing. Country Sign Language Most deaf Jamaicans outside of St Elizabeth communicate using the so- called standard sign language. This sys- tem which consists of both signs and fingerspelling, is taught in schools for the deaf on the island and is based on the sign system used in the United States. Although the two countries differ in the use of some signs, a deaf Jamaican can easily understand the lan- guage of a deaf American who uses standard sign language and vice versa. Several thousand signs have been deve- loped to represent objects, actions, emotions, ideas and relationships. English words for which no signs exist can be expressed by fingerspelling, in which a different hand configuration is made for each of the 26 letters of the alphabet. Proper names and seldom used words are frequently fingerspelled. Standard sign language can be done in a manner that parallels English grammar, or it can be done in a way which is grammatical- ly very different from English. For ex- ample, hearing people in Jamaica or the United States who know sign language are likely to sign in a more English-like version ('It was fun to watch the movie yesterday') while deaf people, using the same signs, will express the concept with less regard for the structure of English ('yesterday movie I watch fun') and more regard for the order in which the ideas or information occurred in real life. Standard sign language stands in marked contrast to the sign system used by the St Elizabeth deaf community. Country signs exist for several words which can only be fingerspelled in standard sign language; cornmeal, cas- sava and pimento are examples. On the other hand, many country signs appear to be less precisely defined than are standard signs. For example, the country sign for farm involves the motion of chopping cane. This sign, however, with- in the context of a conversation, can be used to signify Florida as well. The signs for America and Montego Bay are essentially the same: white plus airplane. In the case of Montego Bay, however, one points in a northwesterly direction and indicates that the place is relatively close. With America, one points due north and indicates that its location is far away. Similarly, the signs for Southfield and Kingston both involve pulling at one's shirt, since clothing is sold in both locations. Southfield, how- ever, which is located a few miles south- west of Top Hill, is indicated by point- ing in a southwesterly direction, while the sign for Kingston requires point- ing eastward and extending the arm. Facial expressions, gestures and pantomime play an important role in communication among the deaf com- munity. Emotions such as happiness, sadness, shame and embarrassment are physically portrayed. Prepositions like to and from, articles and linking verbs are omitted, while adjectives invoking sub- tleties, such as weird, frustrated or hopeful, are conveyed with difficulty. The number'system in country sign language is systematic. A right-handed person begins by counting with the fingers of the right hand and then adds the fingers of the left hand for addi- tional numbers up to 10. To sign 11, one claps once and signs one. Sign- ing 20 requires two claps, and so on. The sign for 50 is done by hitting the left arm with the right hand, and 60 entails this same motion plus one hand clap. In a similar fashion, rule-governed movements exist for expressing the con- cepts of half, hundred and thousand al- though, reportedly, no sign exists for million. Time of the day is expressed with reference to the sun. Morning is sign- ed by pointing to the east and follow- ing the path of the sun, while noon requires pointing upward. Day is ex- pressed by making an arc from east to west. To sign tomorrow, one indicates the act of sleeping plus a sign mean- ing future. The sign two days from now is done in almost the same way, with the act of sleeping noted twice. For yesterday, sleeping is expressed as well, but it is followed by a movement in- dicating the past. The first day of the week, Sunday, is signed by making the motion for book, a reference to the Bible. This same sign means week when a one is added to it. Monday is indicated by signing Sunday and making a gesture indicating that a page has been turned. Tuesday is sign- ed by pounding the upturned wrists to- gether because, according to members of the deaf community, that is the day when a person, bound and shackled, is sent to jail. Wednesday, the day for marriage, is expressed by miming the placing of a ring on one's fourth finger. Thursday requires a visit to the hospital, so one makes the motion of giving an injection to the arm. Friday, the day animals are slaughtered, is signed by in- dicating a cut throat, and for Satur- day, fishing day, one uses the index finger to denote a squirming fish. In a similar way, seasons are indi- cated. For Christmas, one points to the stars, a reference to the star which led the Wise Men to the Christchild. Easter is indicated by spreading one's hands in the shape of a cross. The closing of school is expressed by signing school (making the motion of writing and then shaking the pen) plus a gesture indicating away. The rainy season is indicated by bringing one's hands into a motion indi- cating rainfall. It appears, however, that country sign language does not include reference to specific months. Most of the movements forming the country sign language lexicon appear to be iconic; that is, they represent the object or concept being referred to. For example, signing bird by waving one's hands in the air or signing play by danc- ing around the room involves symbolic- ally re-enacting features of birds and the act of playing. Hearing people with- out much exposure to either country or standard sign language, have commented that country sign language is easier for them to understand than standard. Still, it is not possible for an uninformed ob- server to understand a country sign language conversation just by watch- ing it. A person knowledgeable in country sign may understand that Wednesday is signed by placing the ring on the finger because this is the traditional day of marriage and may, therefore, call the sign iconic. It is im- plausible, however, that someone with no knowledge of country sign language would watch a person placing an imagin- ary ring on his finger and know that the signer was referring to the fourth day of the week. One of the more marked differences between country sign language and standard sign language is in the use of fingerspelling. In standard sign language, spelling is used extensively for proper names and for words for which no signs exist. No alphabet exists in country sign language, a limitation which would seem to place severe restrictions on the amount of new knowledge introduced into the community. Because only a few members of the St Elizabeth deaf com- munity know how to read or write, most do not know their written names. When I asked one man his name, he told me that I had asked a difficult question, but that his hearing daughter could tell me. Within the deaf community, he is known by his moustache and, as a man in his mid-fifties, uses that as his name sign. Name signs are generally given in recognition of distinguishing character- istics. Headley, the only deaf person with a driver's licence, is referred to by making the sign for eyeglasses plus drive. His wife is signed fat plus white because of her build and complexion. Goiters, hunchbacks and other physi- cal deformities become names for other members of the community. Among this predominantly light-skinned group of people, black skin is a distinguishing characteristic. According to Headley, three deaf people are signed black, though with varying degrees of intensity to indicate their hues relative to each other. One individual is identified by drawing one's hand quickly toward the body because he is, reportedly, a sel- fish, greedy man who refuses to share. Headley states that, unlike deaf children in the community, hearing children are not usually given name signs. Instead, they are simply noted with the signs hunchback plus son, moustache plus daughter and so on. Adding a sign indicating height helps to determine which particular son or daughter is being referred to. A person's name sign does not al- ways remain with him throughout his lifetime. Obviously, a man who is known by his moustache had a differ- ent name sign as a child. One woman in the community explained that, as a young girl, her name sign was a refer- ence to her long, flowing hair. This name changed in adulthood to indi- cate an abdominal surgical scar she had acquired. Currently, her name sign de- notes her one remaining tooth and, one supposes, this too will change when the tooth falls out. When I asked her what her 'real' name was, she shrugged and said that maybe the hearing people who lived nearby knew it. understood by his hearing daughter and by Headley. His daughter and I could both understand speech and, along with Headley, I knew standard sign language as well. His daughter understood no standard sign language, I understood little country sign language, Headley understood no speech, and the farmer understood neither standard sign language nor speech. And yet, we man- aged to communicate. The farmer proud- ly pointed to his. crops and, through Headley, explained how much he en- joyed feeding and caring for the birds on his property. As we were conversing, it struck me that the lives of these people are much more gentle and integrated than the lives of many who live in urban areas. Family relationships within the deaf community tend to be stable; a mother, father and children living in the same house is the rule rather than the exception. The attitude of hearing people toward their deaf neighbours seems to be one of acceptance and equality rather than pity or condescension at least within the immediate area. A small one-room store operated by a deaf family serves the community, and even the hearing people who shop there know country sign language in a rudimentary way. One can easily, of course, romanti- cize the lives of people within the com- munity and forget the extremely limit- ed educational, vocational and com- munication opportunities available to them. It is probable that, with con- tinued success, the Maranatha School for the Deaf, which teaches standard sign language, will be changing all of that. In time, a deaf child growing up in St Elizabeth will be able not only to understand the language of a deaf child growing up in Kingston or.Montego Bay but will also know more than his parents do of the world that exists beyond Junction and Top Hill. And yet, while the school's efforts are laudatory, one cannot help but feel a certain wistful- ness with the realization that, in the process of educating, a language and even a way of life are likely to be lost forever. Concluding Thoughts Engaged in conversation at the home of a deaf farmer one afternoon, I was impressed by the communication sys- tems represented. The farmer used only country sign language, which could be REFERENCE JACOBS, H.P., "The Parish of Saint Eliza- beth", The West Indian Review, 3 October 1953. ESSO-TODAY'S TECHNOLOGY TO MEET TODAY'S DEMANDS. S:* L BARCO ENTERPRISE CARIBBEAN LTD. Contract manufacturers and exporters of Cosmetics, Personal-Care and Household Cleaning Products * PURELENE 0 TROPIC-GLOW 0 RE-NU and MILD SUDS PRODUCTS Nanse Pen Industrial Complex P.O. Box 192, Weymouth Close Kingston 20, Jamaica W.I. Phone: 92-59733, 92-38597. 'II Esso Astley Clerk 1868 -1944 Patriot and Cultural Pioneer By Cheryl Ryman In some respects he was very much part of that 'well educated "gram- mar school" middle class leader- ship that was truly Jamaican rooted'. [Interview Nettleford] Astley Clerk, in any time and by any standard, was a remarkable man possessing a rare brand of courage with which he waged a sustained and impassioned war against the British status quo. He challenged and scored some victories over such con- temporary bastions of British elitism as the Institute of Jamaica when their decision to withhold certain texts ef- fectively curtailed his research on the music and musical instruments of Jam- aica.1 Described as a short, pudgy man, Astley Clerk, who straddled two cen- turies, nevertheless stood head and shoulders above most Jamaicans of his time. His was a lone voice rever- berating with an incessant rallying call to the 'children' of the Motherland - Jamaica over the din of colonialist sentiments and continental loyalties. He recognized and promoted a distinctly 'Jamaican'culture long before such things were fashionable and at a time when the received English culture was the norm accepted by Jamaicans of all races. He was the Jamaican patriot's patriot and a cultural pioneer. This article does not intend in any way to be a biography of Astley Clerk. Too little is known of the life and char- acter of this complex individual. The in- tention rather is to highlight the public achievements of an outstanding Jam- aican in danger of being entirely for- gotten by new generations. In music, folklore, art, linguistics, poetry, philately, conchology, and re- search and publishing, Astley Clerk was the first to initiate, inspire, or collabor- ate with others in order to set in mo- tion those activities and institutions that were to make possible the 'flower- ing' of the arts in the 1940s. His was not a series of pioneering accidents, which in retrospect proved worthy to be re- corded by history. Rather, Astley Clerk was a visionary, who worked diligently and with dogged 'David-and-Goliath' determination towards fulfilling his many dreams of a new Jamaica. He was also unusual at the time for his personal position regarding race. He not only projected the African contribution to his culture but also acknowledged in himself, that part of his ancestry in positive terms. This choice is eviden- ced in the subject emphases of his writ- ing and cultural presentations, in his collections (over 200 African artefacts in his home alone) and in the genuine respect that he extended at all times to all classes of Jamaicans. Although we know little of his early life, pride in his African heritage might have been inculcated at home since it was a trait shared by his brother, Hope- ton Gillis Clerk, who spent seven years in Africa as a Presbyterian missionary and amassed a collection of African art and artefacts which Astley inherited. Both brothers were known to publicly assert their African ancestry and Hope- ton Clerk on at least one occasion was known to declare that he was a 'Negro'. [Interview Hendriks] Such forth- rightness takes on added meaning when we compare it with what we know of other prominent light-skinned Jam- aicans who were their contemporaries (see, for instance, Rhonda 'Cobham's portrayal of H.G. deLisser in Jamaica Journal 17:4). Yet Clerk was not a racist of any type. Members of his family, close friends and an employee, his long-serving secretary and even re- lative strangers like Miss Ivy Coverley have spontaneously and independently described him as 'colour blind'. This was a rare attribute for a successful near- white Jamaican businessman even up to the time of Independence and certainly during the late 19th century to the pre- World War II period when Astley Clerk operated at his greatest peak of advo- cacy. The Early Days Astley Clerk was born in Montego Bay on 11 May 1868, the second son of a dark-skinned 'coloured' gentle- man, Robert Thomas Clerk (Snr), and a white Jamaican, Sally Clerk (nee Camp- bell) of Scottish ancestry. Robert Clerk's father was English and his mother of African ancestry. Clerk was born just 30 years after complete eman- cipation in 1838, seven years after the Great Revival of 1860-61 that swept the western end of the island, and merely three years after the Morant Bay Rebellion of 1865. He left Montego Bay for Kingston as a boy, attending the Kingston Collegiate under the tutelage of Messrs Radcliffe, Morrison and Boyce. He began working at 18 at the Railway then short- ly after joined 'the business of Mr Otto'. By 1889, he had joined the music mer- chandise and dealership business of Louis Winkler and Son Ltd. at 18 King Street, where for over 20 years he work- ed his way up from clerk to manager and partner in the company. In 1912 Astley Clerk established his own busi- ness, the famous 'Cowen Music Rooms', a place where music would be crafted and nurtured for the next 30 years. However, the period spent at Winkler's was also important. It was here that Lilie Clerk Clerk developed and honed his business acumen while evolving and giving life to many of his early musical endeavours. Although Clerk's was a multifaceted talent, his contribution to music is per- haps his single greatest area of achieve- ment. He organized musical competi- tions; held monthly concerts; started the Christmas Morning Concerts; edited and published musical magazines; col- lected (over 400 songs), scored, arranged, performed and published a number of Jamaican folk songs; sang (bass); play- ed the organ and piano, was also a piano tuner and trainer; wrote and com- posed songs for schools; arranged and conducted music for orchestra and chor- al groups and was generally a contri- butor to and moving spirit behind most musical events on the island. His Musical Contributions Clerk promoted the first two eisted- dfods (international music competitions) held in Jamaica under the auspices of the Institute of Jamaica, and in 1897 suggested to the same institution, the holding of what turned out to be a high- ly successful musical competition. In 1895 he instituted the choral competi- tions which were carried on for many years. Also in the late 19th century, Clerk edited and published under the auspices of Winkler and Son Ltd., the annual Winkler's Choir Leader. A very popular publication, it contained in the first section a variety of short articles, excerpts from and reprints of articles about music, musicians and musical practices. It also included notices re deaths, births, marriages and anni- versaries of musicians and announce- ments of upcoming musical events. The second part contained a large selection of hymns. He also edited the similar Winkler's Musical Monthly, through which medium he was able to press for and succeeded in gaining remuneration for the services of Jamaican concert musicians. Clerk continued to be supportive to individual musicians, offering his premises to them for practice on Satur- day afternoons. Himself a 'musician of no mean order', he formed and man- aged his own orchestra. He was the organist at St Andrew Kirk and later St Luke's Anglican Church. A reportedly good singer, in 1904 he performed as one of the basses of the 'Messiah' fes- tival promoted by Madame DeMontag- nac, who, in 1929, went on to form the first Jamaican Symphony Orchestra. On that occasion, the 'Messiah' was being presented in the West Indies for the first time in its entirety at the Theatre Royal, Kingston. Clerk, con- scious of its musical significance, not only gave tremendous assistance to the overall production but produced a souvenir programme which is now prized in the musical history of Jamaica. Cowen Music Rooms Cowen Music Rooms was named after Sir Frederick Hymen Cowen who was born in Jamaica on 29 January 1852, and lived here until 1856 when his family moved to England. Cowen, a child prodigy, achieved international renown and is the only West Indian to be included in the prestigious Groves Dictionary of Music and Musicians. Clerk kept the Jamaican music com- munity informed of Cowen's progress and when in February 1929, after 70 years, he returned to Jamaica, Astley Clerk's pride and elation were bound- less. The prominent role he played in preparing both an appropriate gift and a welcome address which he sign- ed (followed by some 60 other sig- natures) on behalf of the 'music lovers of Jamaica' is testimony to the pres- tige he enjoyed in the local music community. Cowen Music Rooms was first lo- cated at 14 King Street in a modern two storey structure and was considered not only the best music store in the island but one of the most progressive business houses of Kingston.2 It carried almost every musical instrument, all carefully selected by Clerk to withstand the local climate while performing at optimum levels. Clerk also stocked TROPICA BLINKEYS. Action Song. Astlry CI, k knw tlool i-h .bhil dr.n Vhii ..W r. .i raid, When I. 'r .. "i r:gl t ime Jump at ev r shade. Think the tree are "dup pie," Sr -ph Fn n, T r__ b j k f F-) r p Vr Y p V I p I 1 0 S su p a tiel; Fn cy hears in bush cs, Trem ble like ;i leaf. y^^ ^ V y V_^ t :-But when I'm out walking.7 And night's curtains fall,8 I feel safe and happy,- Not ysitrad at all Though the moon is hidden And t's dark all round,tl Insects. frgs and crickets Makc a merry sound SP,:n tr, self 2 -Hld p both hands in astonishment S -)art back as if frighened 4 P'inr with mnc hand urtsler Ii the trees : POmr with ,thet hand vwartds the ground 3-And all round about me Though no stars may gleam, Thousands of wee I lanterns Flash I 2 and glow and beam With a smiling welcome From the dewy grass, I Blinkey lanterns greet me Everywhere I pass 6-Shudder visibly 7 -Raie fee as if walking 8- Raise hands above head slowly le them fall 9 -Shak head emphatically 1o-Sweep hand in half crlde 4-Up among the tree-tops Where the dark vines twine. 13 All above, below me. Stars of earth, they shine So I walk7 on singing Just as if 'twas dayv For the blnkecv 14 light me On the lonrl was 11 -Point to extreme end ot tore finger 12 Move hand rapidlh Jiuor.j tight to Ictn I -Move hands in dcSripnlon ot crie innln ln 14 -Clap hads to end ot ircr "Blinkeys", a song with instructions for actions, one of the school songs in Clerk's Jamaican School Songs. (Covers of two editions above). Jamaican School Songs TO THE TEACHERS THE STUDENTS OF OF THE MICO JAMAICA. PUBLISHED BY THE POETRY LEAGUE OF JAMAICA. music sheets songs and musical productions, some of which were printed in his own printer and included his own work and that of other local artists, such as the songs and waltzes of P. Anderson Cover and Kenneth McCormack. Art pictures, art materials, gramophone records and pianola rolls were among the accessories sold. With this wide range of music and art items, augmented by Clerk's collections of artefacts and a library of books re- lated to all the arts, it is little wonder that Cowen Music Rooms became a popular rendezvous and the centre of cultural activity. The store offered the all-inclusive facilities of club, concert hall, publishing house, museum and li- brary. The atmosphere created of regular artistic encounter and comradeship was conducive to the development of two very popular activities the Variant and the Christmas Morning Concert. The monthly Variants staged by Astley Clerk in the piano and organ rooms, were described as 'one of his many happy ideas' in the Jamaica Times of 14 June 1913. They serv- ed to expose, encourage and develop much local talent. These included such notable performers as Granville Campbell (tenor), Stanley Morand (singer/co- median) and his sister (singer), P.A. Cover (singer/composer) and Bertie Harris (dialect verse). The Variant, held every second Wednesday in the month, was the precursor to and consistent with the 'variety concert' tradition from which indigenous Jamaican theatrical forms evolved. Christmas Morning con- certs, Edelweiss Park concerts and the famous Rose Gardens' film and live entertainment all belong to this genre. The Christmas Morning concerts also started in Cowen Music Rooms. Grand Markets were held as a much anticipated Christmas morning event. They attracted many last minute shoppers who, often dressed in their finery for church services, promenaded along King Street, pur- chasing a variety of special food and gift items for the season. Cowen Music Rooms, like other stores on King Street, remained open. The usual 'club' atmos- phere was heightened by the Christmas congeniality of Astley Clerk who in- vited his friends and customers to share refreshments with him. What be- gan in that first year as an impromptu concert, very much along the lines of the Variant, became so successful in subsequent years that Victor Lindo, Ernest Cupidon and Eric Coverley respectively, moved the location and extended the scope and popularity of this all-important indigenous theatri- cal form. By 1929, the store had been moved to upper King Street (56A), and it is believed that the effects of a fire next door forced another relocation. This and the ongoing neglect of the business in deference to Clerk's other growing interests contributed to his financial and the store's demise. When in May 1940 the doors were finally closed on the last location of the store at 35 Peter's Lane, the description of a 'crowded dingy office' was a far cry from the illustrious reputation and the physical appearance of the store when it first opened its doors nearly three decades before. Music in Education Clerk's myriad ventures described so far fulfilled only one part of his vision. He also, almost singlehandedly, launch- Astley Clerk was the first to design a Jamaican flag. The island of Jamaica was green, sur- rounded by blue within a gold border with the Union Jack inset. Clerk explained, "Here's Green for my Evergreen Island/ Here's Blue for her sea circling smile/Here's gold for her health giving sunlight/ That won her her name 'Sunshine Isle' land over all waves the mother's call /The Union Jack of England. ed an educational programme in music through the competitions organised, his lectures and lecture-demonstrations, performances and publications of which The Music and Musical Instruments of Jamaica, Winkler's Choir Leader, Wink- ler's Musical Monthly and Jamaica School Songs are the most signifi- cant. Astley Clerk composed most of this last text, which included "The Is- land Anthem", written and first pub- lished by him in 1887. An even more popular song, "Hail to Jamaica", com- posed by Clerk, was so frequently sung by the West Indians in England during World War II that the British information office was prompted to enquire here as to the name of the composer. This text of Jamaican patriotic songs, first published just after World War I was the first and only one of its type up to and even after Jamaica's Indepen- dence, a fact noted by H.P. Jacobs in the introduction to the third edition of 1963. The songs were composed and ar- ranged with teachers and school chil- dren in mind as evidenced by the dedi- cation and the actions/instructions ac- companying each song. In the foreword to the second edition, Clerk enjoins the teacher 'to consider it a privilege of the highest order to lay the foun- dation of love for country in the heart and life of the child to whom he or she is more than parent'. Clerk also noted in the foreword to the first edition: We have felt most strongly, and again and again have we said it, that the sons and daughters of Jamaica especially her boys and girls, should have songs at their disposal which are distinctly and particularly Jamaican; . such songs would help to awaken and nourish the deep love for our Motherland (my emphasis) that each and all of us should feel. Is it not absurd that our children should sing of nothing but "Rosy Apples" and "Fields of Snow", when these are not things that they see and know personally? The golden orange glowing amid its green leaves, the royal poinciana's far-gleaming crim- son, the silver and gold ferns' delicate fronds, the banana, the mighty ceiba and the bloom-laden logwood, these are sights familiar to eyes Jamaican; and of these let the Jamaican sing, for they also are beautiful. The Patriot The patriotic glint expressed here is indicative of the passionate 'love affair' and proselytizing zeal that Astley Clerk felt for the Motherland, which for him was not England, as it was for most Jamaicans at the time, but Jamaica. Even among the 'few' patriots, there was a pervasive ambivalence or dual loyalties expressed towards England and Jamaica which was further compound- ed by ethnic/racial affinities. H.P. Jacobs in the "Introduction", in referring to these 'two kinds of patriotism', at- tempts to explain this phenomenon as a loyalty to something (British Empire) which includes Jamaica. In so doing he broadly describes the patriots of the pre-World War II period, like Tom Redcam and even Dr Robert Love. Tom Redcam, also hailed as the 'father of Jamaican Literature', was consider- Cover for one of Clerk's handmade booklets containing illustrations and facts about Jam- aica (see sample page, below) created as a birthday gift for a friend. 4:! TAKING HOME THE BRIDAL CAKES. JAMAICA -. '." OCH- r^i H^H ; hLijn bz, o^ -| tptul'fi o^ j.*1'1 i j ^ -*Ai 7ZCa. ;l~~Lzb~~P CAXA-0 |1\. 0% aarltlt(P ra i^L ^)a*-L^ ~ ~ A CAyfM cK^s >f^ <~j> "tIfO*2c ~CJlc~c~s tt;Ce~- I ed 'the most powerful personality in the patriotic movement'. Patriotic to whom or what and in what order of priorities one might well ask. As argued by Jacobs, Redcam was also caught up in dual loyalties, perceiving England as more of the Motherland than Astley Clerk who, although not a political man, had perhaps made the clearest political statement among his peers in designing a Jamaican flag which he raised and saluted instead of the Union Jack, and in composing an anthem to be sung in place of "God Save The King". In this, and so often in his own poems and songs, Clerk clearly proclaimed his resolution of any ambivalence in favour of Jamaica.3 This was exceptional for his time and even more so given the pri- vileged social and racial status which he enjoyed in the society. The assertion of Jamaica's 'mother- hood' and sovereignty was expressed without 'malice or intent' toward Britain. Astley Clerk merely felt, some 50 years before Independence, that Jamaica was sufficiently endowed with a distinct culture and history and with natural and human resources to justify her own flag and anthem. Certainly the notion that Jamaica should continue to be subject to Britain was totally un- acceptable to Clerk. The words of the "Green, Blue and Gold", written by Arabella Moulton Barrett, with music composed by Clerk, sums up his atti- tude and that of those who shared his vision: Lift proudly the flag of Old England; Let nations be glad in her shade The valour, the blood of the Briton In its glorious folds be displayed Tho' mighty my pride in her colours, Stained red with her victories bold Still dearer the flag of my country Jamaica's own Green, Blue and Gold (my emphasis) Similarly, in his explanation of the design of the flag, in which the Union Jack takes an appropriately prominent position, Clerk acknowledges his con- tinuing respect and affection for Britain since 'England with all your faults, we love thee still'.4 But Clerk's emphasis was quite different from that expressed by the black Jamaican Dr Robert Love in an editorial in his own newspaper, The Jamaica Advocate (26 January 1895): In spite of some faults which we see and feel, there is much that is good and sound in the great heart of England, and we have confidence in her good in- tentions .. We desire no change of nationality. Self-government is our right as an integral portion of the British Empire and by push and prudence we will regain it. Let us work as English- men and win as Englishmen. Such loyalties were firmly entrenched in the minds of Jamaicans of all classes.5 So it was in the face of strong pro- British solidarity that Astley Clerk form- ed the Patriotic League of Jamaica dur- ing World War I. Although not happy with the more overt political and entre- preneurial direction that the league later began to take, he retained the status of provisional secretary. He also formed a youth arm of the League in which he was able to more faithfully pursue his original objectives. The Young People's Patriotic League of Jamaica, comprised of members not exceeding 18 years of age, could not be accused of being anti- British; in fact it supported Jamaica's participation in the war. Nevertheless, it focused its energies on cultivating strong pro-Jamaican loyalties which were projected in the motto: "Jamaica's Welfare First" and in the 'Green, Blue and Gold' flag and Jamaican anthem. Astley Clerk worked to educate young Jamaicans about 'things Jamaican' and through this to inculcate a love and loyalty to Jamaica first. He under- stood that being born in Jamaica, particularly into the prevailing atmos- phere of ambivalent loyalties, guaran- teed neither love nor loyalty from her citizens. Only the exposure to and knowledge of the distinct features of one's culture could invoke this patriotic sensitivity. He hrad a tremendous affection and respect for young people. To many re- latives and friends he was known as 'Uncle Astley'. Kindness and generosity were hallmarks of his personality. Clerk never missed an opportunity to private- ly or publicly praise and encourage any Jamaican talent, particularly young talent. This was the case for Noelle Foster-Davis, Sybil Cunningham and Granville Campbell, all of whom he en- couraged to explore and include Jam- aican and Jamaican-inspired works in their repertoire, on occasion providing them with the benefit of his research and documentation in manuscript form. Things Jamaican Clerk also immersed himself in re- search on the history, natural environ- ment, music, customs, and life of his fellow Jamaicans, envying people like Walter Jekyll, to whom he dedicated his book The Music and Musical Instru- ments of Jamaica, and Martha Beck- with, for the time they were able to devote to this type of research. Never- theless, he managed to amass a wide variety of collections, all of which are supported by laboriously detailed and comprehensive documentation. He be- came virtually 'a fountain of knowledge on every phase of Jamaican life', so much so that many queries from overseas sent to the Gleaner were redirected to Clerk for reply. [Interview Hendriks] One aspect of his research concerned our earliest ancestors, the Arawaks. He ex- haustively, as far as he was allowed through the Institute of Jamaica, re- searched and documented their life and culture. Much of this formed the sub- ject of his many poems and ballads and of a lecture which was subsequent- ly published in 1913 as The Music and Musical Instruments of Jamaica. Here, both the Arawak and the Afro-Jamaican contributions to Jamaican music are extensively treated. Clerk also amassed a collection of rare and beautiful Jamaican shells, which was once displayed in 1928. This no doubt helped to gain him the reputation of being an authority on conchology. He was also a philatelist, an interest which started at the age of eight and continued up to his death in 1944. He was instrumental in founding the Phila- telic Society of Jamaica. As with other things that interested him, Clerk wrote prolifically about Jamaican stamps. He started the magazine The Jamaica Philatelist and functioned as its editor until 1939 when, because of failing health, he retired from that position. He was also editor of a weekly column, 'Stamp Album' in three local newspapers - The Gleaner, Jamaica Times and Chronicle at different times. In addi- tion, he compiled a book dealing with the history of Jamaica through her stamps and there has been reference to yet another 'highly valuable' work, in manuscript form, a 'Glossary of Philatelic Terms'. Clerk not only collected and thoroughly documented all aspects of Jamaican stamps but applied his analytic- al mind and his vision of a new Jamaica to this area as well. He was very active in promoting new stamp issues and in suggesting new forms. Here too his in- nate generosity and kindness was ex- pressed. He gave freely of his dupli- cate stamps to young collectors and was instrumental in forming a Junior Stamp Club in 1942. His interest in natural history led him to collect broken rocks, lumps of earth, old bricks (Port Royal), sand (with PHOTOS FROM AN ALBUM: Top left, Wedding photo of Clerk's niece Gloria Millard; top right: Family shot includingMiss Payne (sculptor), Gloria Millard, Mr. Millard and young Anna Maria Hendriks (seated); Bottom, left: Astley Clerk's nephew Leslie Clerk with his wife and daughter; bottom, right: Linda Stockhausen of Cudjoe Minstrels fame, standing on the verandah of "Hope Glen", the Clerk's home. 23 luminous properties) and specimens of flora and fauna (his pressed and dried col- lection of ferns is to be found in the manuscript collection of the National Library of Jamaica). He moved from specimens to collecting valuable book editions and surrounded himself with native musical and other unusual instru- ments together with artefacts from all over the world, in particular Africa. The location of these artefacts is now un- known, but a catalogue in the Nation- al Library lists among the 200-odd items, African weapons, wooden dolls ('Ikenga' and fertility dolls from Southern Nigeria) and other forms of statuary, brass dish- es, cloth wrappers for women, whips used by Zulu men to drive cattle, a praying mat and an African chief's fan. Astley Clerk also collected post cards from all over the world and compiled a number of albums and scrapbooks which document, through photographs and clippings with his commentary, the customs and important events and per- sonages in Jamaican society. One such collection humorously titled "Ee Tru Fe Tru Bookeepa" described as a 'collection of facts gathered here and there relating to our mysterious Jamaica', was presented to a young friend, Clara Belle Grant as a birthday gift in 1942. Clerk's interest in art extended beyond his 'armchair' scrapbook and arte- fact collections. The 1916-1919 Who's Who in Jamaica indicates that he had acquired two large watercolours, "Fringe of the Liguanea Plains" and "Summit of the Blue Mountain Peak" by Joseph Kirkpatrick for the Institute of Jamaica. The Who's Who also records that he was the moving spirit behind several art exhibitions held in Kingston. Clerk's collection of folk songs, start- ed as a boy, continued far into his adult life. A few of over 400 songs were pub- lished but most have remained in manu- script form of which two large collections may be found in the National Library of Jamaica. He published some ballads which were apparently intended to be part of an island parish series. His col- lection of Jamaica Street Cries, also lo- cated in the National Library in manu- script form, was recently published in part in Jamaica Journal (18:2), Clerk collected and scored the songs and sounds of Jamaica for his personal satis- faction, but as much in the hope that the day would come when Jamaican folk music would be so adapted as to be sung in our drawing rooms and concert halls instead of foreign music. 1 Astley Clerk in later years. These did not exhaust Clerk's inter- ests. Other aspects of Jamaican life and culture which he researched and docu- mented included dialect lexical items, proverbs, legends, customs and beliefs, place names, caves, rivers and water- falls in each parish of the island, toge- ther with an equally careful document- ation of the birds, fruits and flowers of Jamaica. He diligently recorded many lexical items of the Jamaican dialect on cards together with their meaning, ety- mology and usage. An item in Spotlight, July 1940, referring to Clerk's retire- ment and the closure of Cowen Music Rooms, noted the compilation of the first dictionary of Jamaican dialect that was being prepared by Clerk with the assistance of H.P. Jacobs, indicating that the project had been commissioned by 'Island Age of Literature'. This very important collection seems to have been lost, and with it at least one item - 'filmy', a Jamaican country expression for 'fairy' included in one of his poems, which is not to be found in the Diction- ary of Jamaican English by Cassidy and LePage, first published over 20 years after Clerk's proposed dictionary. An excerpt from the foreword to the Dictionary of Jamaican English (p.viii, para 4) does throw some light on cer- tain aspects of Astley Clerk's collection and perhaps just as importantly on his selflessness and collaborative instincts: Mr. H.P. Jacobs, who had been col- lecting lexical items in Jamaica for many years, both from written sources and from his own observation, made available to the survey both his ad- vice and also that portion of his col- lection which had been transcribed into two manuscript books by Mr Astley Clerk. These books covered only about half the alphabet, for the period 1935- 1948; they proved a helpful source, and are cited by the date of the observ- ation followed by "HPJ",followed by a parish when that was given. Where Mr. Clerk had added his own notes, these are cited as "A. Clerk in HPJ". In the Astley Clerk manuscript col- lection (Ms 44 a-m) located at the National Library of Jamaica, we find. enough of the meticulous and com- prehensive work in music and folklore research and documentation that justi- fies the perhaps belated silver Musgrave Medal that he received in 1937 'for his efforts for the development of music and to maintain interest in the Folk- lore of Jamaica'.6 Poetry Astley Clerk wrote hundreds of poems, two sets of which are in the National Library of Jamaica. He was one of the founders of the Jamaica Poetry League and acted as its secretary with J.E. Clare McFarlane as president. The league held regular meetings and circulated the work of all members pri- marily through a monthly publication called The Post Box. It was the Poetry League which undertook the re-issue of the third edition of Clerk's original Jamaica School Songs after his death. Clerk was also a member and honorary secretary/treasurer of the Jamaica Local Literary Association (JLLA) founded in 1898. The Poetry League and its members were engaged Fh a running battle of liter- ary style with the more avant garde 'new poets' of the thirties like M.G. Smith, Philip Sherlock, George Camp- bell and later, the even more inno- vative Louise Bennett. The more con- ventional and strict-meter 'Wordsworth- ian' style of many league members even- tually proved too romantic for the in- creasingly militant and revolutionary tone of the independence movement, giving further validity to the 'new poets'. The widespread revolution in the arts, led in the 1940s by Mrs Edna Manley and complemented by the cousins Norman Manley and Alexander Busta- mante in the political arena, took the vision of Astley Clerk's 'new' Jamaica at a far more rapid pace forward than Clerk could have imagined possible. The pace also served to overshadow and force almost into obscurity the contributions of Astley Clerk and the handful of like- minded Jamaicans of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Nevertheless, Clerk did receive public recognition in his time from his fellow poets and patriots such as Dr Robert Love and Tom Red- cam who dedicated his poem "Jamaica" to him. Astley Clerk approximated in a lay capacity the religious fervour of his or- dained brother Hopeton Clerk. Clara Belle Grant in her 28 May 1944 obitu- ary of Clerk, described his love of coun- try as second only to his love of God. His involvement in the church together with the consistent entry of religious themes into most of his songs and poems (and letters) bear further testimony to this statement. He not only served the church, interpreted characteristically in catholic and interdenominational terms, as organist and choir master but also as a lay preacher. Clerk travelled all over the island on Sundays preaching in dif- ferent churches. As a result of his com- bined music and folklore research and lay preaching activities, Astley Clerk was well-known and welcomed in the homes of all strata of society through- out the island. The Man A Dream at Twilight Clerk, a deeply religious man and given to frequent periods of contem- plation, was reputed to be psychic. Among other events, he predicted both his and his wife's deaths. Lilie Clerk nee Campbell remained in the home, in the background. From all reports, she was as equally 'nice' a person as her hus- band, and along with the rest of his family tended to be more indulgent, and even indulgently amused, than appre- ciative of what they perceived as his 'flights of fancy'. His wife did share at least two things with her husband, and these were her love of children and their love for each other, which endured over 45 years of marriage. The funeral pro- gramme which he prepared was a poetic eulogy of the love and life of Lilie and Astley Clerk. The poems, written at different periods in their relationship, celebrate their meeting, their marriage and love for each other, the premature loss of their only child (a blow softened by the constant flow and in some cases residence in their home of children and young adults) the prediction of their respective deaths articulated in the poem "A Dream at Twilight" and final- ly her death on 11 August 1938: Just two and forty years have sped since in my path, God dropped a flower ... a beauteous Lilie flower No 11 (22 ) Vol 2. maMf eby 1922 YOUR HELP ASKED FOR. P03TING LIST 9L02 ORIERB POST CHOICE REC'D DESPATCIED 1. lre. Albinia Hutton c/o Hutton Esq ; Henderson & Co 2. H. C. Bennett Esq. Co Hutton s__ _li-oville v I' l.' 3. Rev. Percy Heywortf. St. Anne Bay .O. i 0. 4. L. T. Moody Esq. c/o Courts Office ( _______ ort Antonio P.O. O4i -7 ia. 5. MiansM. A. Wolcott. Richmond F. 0. ~/ 6. Misa Eva INicholas. c/o A.B. Lowe Esq. Adelphi P. o. 7. Mies L. A. King. "Dulce Domumn" , Z____~_______________ICewport P. i0.-- ., 8. Misa A. Moulton-Barrett. 18 King Street ~ T, J Kin gton P.O. f- 3i, 9. Astley Clerk Esq. 18 King Street c, s _________Kingston P. 0. La ^i c- r Keep the Post Eag two days, then post it on to the next on the liHt. ( postage only d.) If you desire that we continue sending it, say so. Title page for "The Jamaica Philatelist" (top) and sample page from "The Post Bag" whereby material was circulated to members of the Poetry League. ... O God, I thank thee for my Crown My own sweet Lilie flower. (8 February 1932) -"A Lily Song" Long, long ago, in the first dear days God nearly proved her his love, But he called it back in His wisdom deep Tenderly, sweetly, He lulled it to sleep, And 'tis there somewhere above Never a babe of her own has she, At least, none on earth to be seen But echoing loud in her palace home Are the voices of children that gladly come Acclaiming her Mother and Queen. (19 February 1924) "The Queen Mother" In the early morning hours between 20 and 21 May 1944 Astley Clerk him- self died. Following his premature re- turn from a visit with a friend in New- port7 due to illness, he succumbed to a sudden seizure. It could be better said however that Astley Clerk died of loneliness for his mate. Lilie's death was shattering. 'Some- thing just went out of him' is how Linda Stockhausen, one of the many young adults who lived in the home, described his reaction. Reference to his having to resign his position as editor of "The Philatelist" because of failing health is consistent with the reports of a bro- ken spirit. Astley Clerk was 70 when his wife died but was certainly still physical- ly healthy and intellectually alert. Many of the young adults moved out shortly after his wife's death; the children next door to their residence 'Hope Glen' in Collins Green had grown and the family also moved away Astley Clerk was lonely: My God, my God I loved her much, and still I love; Her life was sweet in Thee, and precious unto me; ... I ne'r forgot Thy gift was only lent to me, And now, I give Thy precious fragrance back to Thee ( 21 August 1938) - "The Lilie Transplanted". Two years after Lilie's death he re- tired, closing the door on his office at 35 Peter's Lane, which premises he had been sharing with his nephew, Leslie Clerk, reputed to be the best piano tuner in the island having been appren- ticed to his uncle for six years. The sale of 'Hope Glen' shortly after, was the severing of the last link with the work and life of a man whom G.C. Gunter had hailed as an 'outstanding genius'. Clerk moved in with his brother, Robert Thomas Clerk, at Park Road Collins Green, where he died, it would seem a poor and lonely old man. But, not entirely. At the end of 1939 he had met Clara Belle Grant, a bright and enthusiastic sister-lover of Jamaica. In December 1939 he was in- vited to Port Antonio by Archie Lindo, president of a literary club there, and was met at the railway station by Lindo and Grant, the club secretary. An instant friendship ensued between Clerk and the 20-year-old Clara Belle who went on to become a well known Gleaner reporter. She brought back into Clerk's life for a few brief years, a new light and passion, and, as he did for his wife, he thanked God for the gift: Lord, I love her and thank you for the gift you sent rme to take care of for you and myself. She was the daughter he never had. 'Lit- tie Belle' obviously shared many of his interests and passions. She loved Jamaica and her parish Portland in particular, poetry, music and God. She too was prone to psychic experiences and in a letter dated 7 April 1944, he alludes to their 'first' psychic meeting and bond- ing and describes his deep-felt affection for her, his 'one and only daughter'.9 . to know that the thoughts of our love can and do go back to a fixed date, as mine has to the very first Good Friday morning we spent together . you there and I at Hope Glen ... Do your thoughts ever go back to that G/ F morning? Do they travel back to- day? .... Your letter to me about that long ago morning is still with me and telling how you passed that early hour in the abiding heart presence of our God . Belle, have we, you my only daughter I your Daddy Mio, drawn nearer and grown dearer the one to the other since that 1st G/Fri- day? A little over a month later, Astley Clerk was dead. The funeral presided over by ministers from three different denominations (Presbyterian, Methodist, Anglican) took place the afternoon after his death. This prevented many of those like Clara Belle Grant who would have attended to pay their final and public respects to the man they knew and loved. Nevertheless, despite heavy rain, the Gleaner reported a large attendance of family, friends and 'kindred spirits' who came to pay their respects to the man, the patriot and cultural pioneer a truly great Jamaican who for over 70 years did place indigenous Jamaica's welfare first. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS For assistance in researching this article, I am grateful to Professor Rex Nettleford, Mr Archie Lindo, Mr Wycliffe Bennett, and the late Noelle Foster-Davis and the family of the late Astley Clerk Mr Ernest Clerk, Mrs Gloria Millard (nee Clerk), Mrs Alma Parkinson, Miss Linda Stockhausen and in particular Miss Anna Maria Hendriks.MissHendriks, a niece (in-law), provided invaluable information based on per- sonal knowledge and researched data and generally clarified many areas of my own research. She also provided a number of photographs from her collection. A debt is also due to Miss Clara Belle Grant and the National Library of Jamaica for saving from extinction, a portion of Astley Clerk's col- lection. Notes 1. The denial of access to certain texts from the West India Collection of the Institute of Jamaica is alluded to in the Introduction to Clerk's 1913 Music and Musical Instruments of Jamaica. This formed the subject of an editorial sup- porting Clerk in the Jamaica Times, 30 August 1913 and was followed by cor- respondence between Astley Clerk and the Secretary of the Institute of Jamaica. 2. Twentieth Century Impressions of the West Indies, pp. 154-155. 3. For example in his Foreword to the 2nd edition of Jamaica School Songs; in the song "Hail O Glorious Motherland" in the 3rd edition; in the dedication poem in the collection of poems Jamaica's Welfare First and throughout the text (MS No. 44, National Library of Jamaica). 4. Astley Clerk Manuscript Collection, MS 44k, p.47, National Library of Jamaica. 5. Informal discussion with Dr Patrick Bryan on the late 19th century period. 6. Extract from the Report of the Institute of Jamaica for the year ending 31 December 1936. 7. A news report ("Mr Astley Clerk Musician and Poet died yesterday") gives Man- deville as the location of his holiday but Miss Hendriks feels certain that it was in fact nearby Newport. 8. Letter to Clara Belle Grant, 7 April 1944, Ms 44a No. 1. 9. Ibid. References BAXTER, Ivy, The Arts of An Island, Metu- chen, N.J.: The Scarcecrow Press Inc., 1970. CLERK, Astley, National Library Manu- script collection. MS 44. ,Foreword Jamaica School Songs, 2nd. ed., Kingston: 1931. JACOBS, H.P.,"Introduction", Jamaica School Songs, 3rd ed., Jamaica Poetry League, 1963. National Library of Jamaica Clippings File. Twentieth Century Impressions of the West Indies: their history, people, commerce, industries and resources, Douglas Feld- wick and L.T. Delaney (eds.), London: Lloyd's of Great Britain Publishing Co. Ltd., 1914. Who's Who in Jamaica, 1916-1919. THE AFRICAN CARIBBEAN INSTITUTE OF JAMAICA ACIJ Research Review No. 1 The African Aesthetic in Jamaican Intuitive Art Patricia Bryan The Evolution of African Languages in Jamaica Beverley Hall-Alleyne The Development of Jamaican Popular Music Part 2: The Urbanization of the Folk Garth White Kumina: Stability and Change Cheryl Ryman J$12 (in Jamaica only); U.S. $5; U.K.E$3.00 Available from ACIJ, 11 North Street, Kingston or Institute of Jamaica Publications Limited PUBLISHERS Or JAMAICA JOURNAL 2A Suthermere Road, Kingston 10, Jamaica, Telephone: 92-94785/6 1985 THE INTERNATIONAL YEAR OF THE FOREST n support of the request of the FAO Council FIDCO agrees to give special recognition to "THE FOREST" during 1985 and to consider the conservation of Jamaica's forest resources as a matter of national concern. FIDCO agrees to heighten public awareness of the importance of forests for: P the quality of life; ,i the safeguarding of environmental stability; W, their contribution to socio-economic progress: FIDCO also agrees to assist with programmes providing opportunities for Youth to participate in tree planting and forest conservation. FORESTRY FOR DEVELOPMENT Fl FOREST INDUSTRIES DEVELOPMENT COMPANY LIMITED P.O. BOX 557, KINGSTON 10, JAMAICA, W.I. TEL: (809) 92-97271 -4 BANK ON US. KEYCARD Jamaica's first credit card offers you convenient, instant credit at over 400 business places throughout J amaica as well as cash advances at any NCB branch. FOREIGN CREDIT CARDS: Maximum convenience for the tourist trade. AGRICULTURAL ADVICE: Financial assistance and technical advice for any agri- cultural project big or small. BUSINESS ADVISORY SERVICE: Providing advice to businessmen in the areas of credit control, costing, pricing, budgeting, stock control, cash flow forecasting and basic accounting. MORTGAGE SERVICES: Private and commercial. TRUSTEE AND INVESTMENT SERVICES: Administration of deceased estate. Pension Fund - Investment Management. GENERAL BANKING SERVICES: * Current-Checking Accounts * Fixed Deposit Accounts e Foreign Exchange Transactions Collection/Importing/Exporting Goods Investment Management Services * Loans Manager's Cheques Nationalbank Loan (Personal Loan) e Nationsave Accounts * Night Safes e Overdraft Pension Funds * Safe Custody Savings Accounts Standing Orders Status Enquiries etc. (Credit Information) Transfer of Funds - \ (Local & Overseas) VIP Accounts We take you into account, not just your money. Aquaculture in Jamaica A Growing Industry By Frank Ross The developing countries of the world are currently caught between rising populations and decreased agri- cultural output, especially of protein sources. In addi- tion, poor foreign exchange earnings have, in many cases, severely limited importation of food such as tinned or salted fish, creating a greater demand on local protein sources. A major source of protein to many developing countries has traditionally been captured fishes of both marine and riverine species. With the growing demand for protein and the fall in commercial capture fisheries, a great deal of emphasis is now beingplaced on aqua- culture as a viable alternative means of producing fish protein. Fin fish culture of species such as tilapias and carps which feed low on the food chain and are resistant to poor water quality has been widely promoted for developing countries as low cost sources of good quality protein. Since 1977, the government of 0 Jamaica has undertaken a programme for the development of commercial aquaculture, both for import substitution and for the export market. The private sector has taken to fish farming with enthusiasm; so much so that it is well on its way to Beautiful Koj carp are grown mostly for their ornamental value and being one of the success stories of Jamaica's thrust are a potential export, but fish farmers are concentrating for the to agricultural self-sufficiency. moment on edible varieties. Development of the Jamaican Programme In the 1930s the Java tilapia or African perch, Tilapia mossambica, was introduced to Asia from its native Africa. The ease of reproduction, quick growth and catholic appetite resulted in its rapid spread throughout lower Asia and the tropical world. It was promoted as a miracle fish and was introduced to Jamaica in the early 1950s. A breeding programme was carried out by the Fish- eries Division of the Ministry of Agriculture and the fish was stocked into rivers, natural ponds and stock watering ponds islandwide. Unfortunately the very factors, such as ease of reproduction, which made the fish so attractive also brought about the collapse of the system. When both sexes are stock- ed together in a pond, the fish begin spawning when 2-3 months old and 2-4 inches in size. This rapidly leads to over- crowding in the pond and the stunting of the growth of the fish. In 1977, the government, with the assistance of United States Agency for International Development (USAID) put together a programme to evaluate the potential of commer- cial fish culture here, and to increase Jamaica's institutional capability to implement an islandwide fish production pro- gramme. Two existing government facilities, one at Twickenham Park, St Catherine and the other at Mitchell Town in Claren- don, were acquired and refurbished. The Twickenham Park The cycle of growing fish from seed stock to marketable size takes a mini- mum of 16 weeks. Fish are first grown (left) in brood ponds from which every 10 days Ig frys (below) are moved into nursery ponds. After 6 8 weeks, finger- lings of 25-30g (below, left) are moved to grow out ponds where 10-12 weeks later, fish of marketable size such as the Silver Perch at 230g or 5 lb (at right) - are produced. Pond fish marketed in Jamaica include Silver Perch, Red Perch, Grass Carp, and Mirror Carp. R.J P..rc( 4Nh 471 rrror L.up ;0.. ' ors ii -* SllIr Pt\ il Cp) Grass Carp _ I y .0 , ." . d:.O 3; -~f~-I- Fish ponds vary enormously in size, from the backyard variety to large operations such as the 82-acre Mitchell Town facility (aerial view) which has 33 ponds varying in size from one half to 10 acres. Seine is the usual method of harvesting pond fish. facility was expanded to 10 acres of ponds and became the headquarters of the Inland Fisheries Unit of the Ministry of Agriculture. Twickenham Park became the major site for research into production methods, seed stock production and fish nutrition as well as the nucleus for the extension pro- gramme in the eastern half of the island. The Mitchell Town facility, originally a 16-pond com- plex with approximately 25 acres of water, was expanded to 82 acres and 33 ponds varying in size from one-half acre to 10 acres. Mitchell Town became the major supplier of fish seed to the fledgling industry as well as a commercial pro- duction demonstration site. With the expansion of the industry a western facility was constructed in 1982 at Meylersfield, Westmoreland. This facility, in addition to administrative and extension offices, had 18 ponds with a combined water acreage of 15 acres. Here again the emphasis was on seed stock supply and pro- duction demonstration. A training programme was built into the project whereby fisheries officers, extension officers and farmers were trained in various aspects of fish farm management. Production System In order to overcome the problem of wild spawning of the perch in the farm ponds, a system of manual separation of male and female perch at a small size (3-4 inches) and the stocking of only males in the grow-out or food-fish production ponds was instituted. This involved the utilization of a three- tiered production system of brood ponds, nursery ponds and grow-out ponds. Brood Pond Management Brood ponds are managed to produce small (1 inch length and 1 gramme or 0.035 ounce) mixed-sex tilapia fry for sub- sequent rearing in nursery ponds. Sexually mature fish, rang- ing in size from 2-7 ounces, are stocked in earthen ponds at a density of 4,000-5,000 fish per acre. A ratio of 3 females to 1 male is used. The fish are fed with a commercial fish feed at specified amounts throughout the crop cycle. After an initial 5-6 week period, fry are harvested from the ponds, using a small-mesh nylon drag seine net, on a weekly basis. A one-acre brood pond can yield 2 million fry during a year's operation. The harvested fry are transferred to a nursery pond for further growth. Nursery Pond Management The fry collected from the brood ponds are transferred to nursery ponds where they are stocked at a density of 70,000- 80,000 per acre. Here they are grown for a period of 8-10 weeks, by which time they achieve an average size of 3 inches and a weight of 1 ounce. At this size the fry, or fingerlings as they are now called, are harvested and the males separated from the females by visual inspection of the external geni- talia, since the males only will go into the grow-out ponds. Depending on the level of management, including the con- sistency of feeding during the crop cycle, a yield of 30,000- 40,000 mixed-sex fingerlings per acre can be achieved. From this amount approximately 10,000-14,000 male fingerlings can be culled and used to stock the grow-out ponds. Grow-out Pond Management In Jamaica, tilapia grow-out ponds range in size from one- half acre to 2 acres on average although some larger ponds (8-10 acres) are used. In the semi-intensive system practiced by the majority of Jamaican farmers today, fingerlings are stocked in the pond at a density of 6,000-8,000 fish per acre. The fish are fed with a commercial fish feed at 3 per cent of the total weight of fith in the pond, on a daily basis. The daily ration of feed is usually split into 2 applications, half in the morning and half in the afternoon. The fish are sampled every 2 weeks and the amount of feed adjusted, based on the average weight of the fish. The fish are usually harvested within 10-17 weeks, depend- ing on the size of fish the farmer wishes to market. This com- monly varies between one-half to three-quarter pound in size. Harvesting is done by partially draining the pond and using a net to remove the majority of the fish. The pond is finally completely drained and the remainder of the fish removed. Under this system a one-acre pond yields between 2,000 and 2,600 pounds of fish per acre per crop. With very good management some farmers have attained yields of 3,000 pounds per acre per crop. A good farmer can get 3-4 crops of fish per year. Growth of the Industry 1977-1984 During the initial 2 years of the fish farming programme (1977-1978) the emphasis was on production of the African perch. Perch production rose from 4,840 pounds in 1977 to 83,160 pounds in 1978, mainly from the government farm at Mitchell Town (Table 1). Consumer acceptance of the dark coloured African perch, however, was poor. In 1978 the government intro- duced the silver or nile perch, Tilapianilotica, from the United States. This perch, as the common name implies, has a silver grey colour which is much more acceptable to the consumer. It also has a deeper body, thus giving a higher meat to bone ratio than the African perch. 1979-80 saw the phasing out of the African perch from culture ponds as the silver perch was promoted. This period also saw the emergence ot the pri- vate sector as the major producer of cultured fish, as the In- TABLE 1: ANNUAL PRODUCTION (LBS) OF FOOD FISH (TILAPIA) IN THE PUBLIC AND PRIVATE SECTORS IN JAMAICA 1977-1984 YEAR PUBLIC SECTOR INLAND FISHERIES UNIT PRIVATE SECTOR TOTAL 1977 4,840 4840 1978 73,480 9,680 83,160 1979 37,840 18,260 56,100 1980 15,180 29,480 44,660 1981 16,280 55,000 71,280 1982 51,200 234,677 285,877 1983 37,822 286,497 324,319 1984 27,606 718,359 745,965 264,248 1,351,953 1,616,201 land Fisheries Unit of the Ministry of Agriculture concen- trated on seed stock production, training, research and development of the extension services. Total production fell in 1980 to 45,000 pounds of which 30,000 pounds were produced by the private sector. By 1982 286,000 pounds of silver perch were produced of which 235,000 pounds were produced by the private sector. In 1983 approximately 230,000 pounds of fish were pro- duced and sold. The total for 1984 was 745,965 pounds of fish; over 90 per cent was produced by the private sector. As the production figures in Figure 1 illustrate, the pri- vate sector is now firmly convinced of the viability of fish farming. Since 1977 over 1,000 acres of fish ponds have been constructed by the private sector. This sector has also become the chief supplier of tilapia fry and fingerlings to the local industry. ANNUAL PRODUCTION OF TILAPIA IN JAMAICA 800 71 700- 600 - B O |g 400 S- t zoo ~. 400 300- 286 235 200 I V 100- 73 51 "0" 3 , 1977 1978 1907 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 17 PUBuc = PRIVATE Recent Innovations in the Industry The semi-intensive tilapia farming system described above is practiced by most of the island's farmers. However, the system is an evolving one and technological variations are constantly being tested in order to improve yields, stream- line operations and increase marketability of the product. 1. Production figures include documented harvests. Production from over 300 subsistence (hobby) farmers as well as from several mini dams, rivers and natural ponds are not included no data available. 2. During 1978-79, small Tilapia termed 'soup fish' were accepted at the government-owned processing and marketing (AMC) facility. Since 1979, only the larger fish were considered marketable. 3. During 1979-1981 there was a drop in production due to several reasons; there were delays in the acquisition of the second support facility at Meylersfield, delays in the construction of the UDC farm, the withdrawal of the AMC as a major fish distributor and the fingerling shortage resulting from a change of culture species, i.e. when the Tilapia nilotica (silver perch) replaced the darker Tilapia mossambica (African perch). It was also anticipated that there would be this lag period before rapid growth occurred due to the factors related to a temporary loss of momentum as production switched from government to private farms and as private fish pro- ducers slowly gained confidence in the economic viability for a production system previously unproven in the Jamaican private sector. 4. From 1978, the government facilities concentrated on the pro- duction of fry and fingerlings for distribution and sale to farmers, while the major production of food fish was carried on by the private sector farmers. Hormonal sex reversal of Red Tilapia is one of the technological innovations being used to ensure that only males go into the grow-out ponds. Thousands of young fish are collected from the edge of the pond, graded to ensure that only sexually undifferentiated fry are treat- ed, and counted (left). They are then stocked at 1650-3000 per square metre in concrete tanks for 21- 28 days, during which time they are fed with a hormone treated feed. This results in a population of 95-100 per cent male fish. After treat- ment the fish are moved to grow-out ponds. Since Carp do not reproduce naturally in our climate, spawning is induced by the use of hormones. The fish are trans- ferred from ponds to tanks where they are injected with hormones. 18-24 hours after final injection, eggs are col- lected from the females and milt from the males (right). Eggs and milt are mixed together then placed in hatching jars where the eggs are constantly agitated by streams of fresh water until they hatch, usually within 18 hours. Newly hatched fry are fed boiled egg yolk for 8-10 days and then moved to specially prepared rearing ponds. Photographs by Sharon Chambers, courtesy of Inland Fisheries Depart- ment, Ministry of Agriculture. One of the major areas of innovation has been in the pro- duction of seed stock. The current brood pond-nursery pond system has one major drawback. More than 50 per cent of the fingerlings produced by this system are discarded as fe- males. These females are mainly used as dog and cat food, or used by the workers for fish tea (soup). A small percentage is kept for the stocking of brood ponds. Two new systems are currently being developed to increase the output of male fingerlings and reduce discards. versal and hybridization. These are hormonal sex re- The sex of tilapia fry is not indelibly fixed at birth. It is possible by feeding a male hormone such as metyl testes- terone to newly hatched fry, to produce functional males from genotypic females. Various methods have been develop- ed in commercial hatcheries in Israel and Asia. These hatcher- ies consistently produce batches of fry which are comprised of 95-100 per cent males instead of the normal 50:50 ratio of males to females. Locally, Jamaican Aqualapia Ltd., has recently brought on stream this type of hatchery to supply both their on-farm fry needs and to sell to other fish farmers. Another technological advance in this area, pioneered locally by Aquaculture Jamaica Ltd., is the production of fry by the mating of 2 different species of tilapia. In this system a male Tilapia aurea is mated with a female Tilapia nilotica with the resultant spawn consisting of 90-95 per cent males. Both of these methods are readily adaptable to farms with good management. Methods for improving the yield per acre from grow-out ponds are also being commercially proven. These include utilizing a higher protein fish feed and increasing the carry- ing capacity of the ponds by the use of paddle wheel aerators or air diffusors. Both of these mechanical devices increase the amount of oxygen in the pond and thus indirectly the poundage of fish that the pond can contain. Another development in the industry is the culture of red hybrid tilapias. The result of years of genetic hybridization, various strains of perch with a pinkish/red or golden skin coloration have been developed in Taiwan, Israel and the United States. The colours of these fish have proven at- tractive to consumers and three strains of these hybrids are now available here. Market testing of the Jamaican product, both locally and overseas, is ongoing. Freshwater Prawn Culture Although 2 pilot research prawn projects were develop- ed in Jamaica in the late 1960s, neither achieved commer- cial viability at the time. Interest has recently resurged in rais- ing freshwater prawns (shrimp) for export as well as for local consumption. The species used is not a native Jamaican shrimp, but the Malaysian or Hawaiian prawn, Macrobrachium rosenbergii. Following many years of work this species has been proven to hold the greatest promise for survival and growth in farm ponds. This species, closely related to Jamaican species, is commercially cultured in Hawaii, Southeast Asia, Central America and in other tropical and sub-tropical areas of the world. Successful farming techniques have been developed in Hawaii and Thailand and are now widely used. Two Jamaican companies are now growing prawns com- mercially. These are Jamaica Aqua Farms in Westmoreland and Aquaculture Jamaica Ltd., in St. Elizabeth. Both com- panies have developed extensive hatchery facilities for the production of seed stock ('post-larvae') which are then placed in freshwater grow-out ponds for rearing to market size. Prawns can be grown in standard fish ponds, and in some countries, Israel for instance, prawns are grown in polycul- ture with tilapia or other species of fish, in the same pond. Prawns however, are more susceptible to poor water quality (low dissolved oxygen and pesticide run off, for example) than tilapia. Water high in oxygen and pollutant-free is pre- ferred. Well and spring water are good sources and surface water can also be used if of adequate purity. Sufficient water should be available for filling ponds, compensating for seep- age and evaporation losses, and for emergency flushing of the pond if necessary. Small farmers need not attempt to.produce their own seed stock since these are available from the two commercial com- panies. Technical assistance is available to grow-out farmers from both companies as well as from Agro 21 Corporation Ltd. Marketing The steadily increasing production of fresh-water fish and shrimp has resulted in more emphasis being placed on the marketing, processing and distribution aspects of the in- dustry. Prior to 1981, farm raised tilapia was mainly sold fresh on the pond bank, directly to consumers as well as to higglers and small wholesalers. Some of the fish sold to the latter two groups were resold in produce markets, meat shops, small restaurants and hospitals. As the volume of fish increased the distribution system has diversified. Some farmers, in addition to their pond bank sales, have integrated their operations to include transporting and marketing their own fish in rural markets such as Chapel- ton and Bog Walk. Others have set up small fish market out- lets in some townships. In the St Catherine area, a fish farmers' cooperative has been formed, and the farmers have set up a retail/wholesale fish market at Twickenham Park. A few of the larger farmers have begun processing their fish (and shrimp) and selling directly to large restaurants and hotels, both in Kingston and on the north coast. The local hotel industry has expressed a growing demand for fish (parti- cularly fillet) and shrimp. Indications from the foreign markets are that processed fish and shrimp will be the required norm in most cases. Various local companies are now pursuing the possibility of developing processing facili- ties in order to take advantage of these developing markets. Potential for the Industry Rapid growth is anticipated for the local aquaculture in- dustry in the next 3-5 years with the impetus coming from both the private sector and the government. The private sector is now firmly behind the development of fish and shrimp farming locally, having realized the profits that can be made from properly managed farms and the market potential both locally and overseas. The government has targeted fish and shrimp farming as key areas for development under the Agro 21 Self-Sufficiency Programme. Government lands and facilities are being made available for lease to the private sector at minimal rates. Credit has been made available from the Agricultural Credit Bank (accessed through commercial banks and People's Co-operative Banks); development banks such as Trafalgar Development Bank Ltd., and the Jamaica Agricultural Development Foundation. Finally, local and North American market searches have been commissioned by the government to fully identify potential markets, including quantities, for Jamaican aqua- culture products. The growth of commercial aquaculture over the past eight years, the technological advances over the last three years, and the current high level of interest indicate a strong future for the industry. If you could read this... ...You wouldn't need to read this. Insurance is the protection against the unforseeable. No one knows for sure what is going to happen, but an expert can tell you what is likely. What it takes is a skilled pro- fessional from IIB. Our experts can examine your needs in General or Marine Insurance, and work out a plan of custom tailored protection. We also assess and design Employee Benefit Programmes to meet the specific needs of your business. Call IIB and together we can work out the form- fitting programme of insurance. * International 1 Insurance U Brokers Limited 59 Half Way Tree Road, Kingston 10. Telephone: 92-93200-9 amaica's most successful writer on the international cinema scene remains very much a mystery to his compatriots. Rather aptly described by a childhood friend as intelligent, sensitive and diffident, it is perhaps the latter characteristic which keeps Evan Jones just beyond our conscious recognition. 'Isn't he a poet?' 'Didn't he do "The Fight Against Slavery"?' 'Wasn't his brother the one . ?' Nobody ever says: 'Ah yes, the first five film scripts he wrote were immediately produced and wasn't one of them nominated for an Academy Award?' That he has an additional five films to his credit and works with the likes of John Huston, Michael Caine, Dirk Bogarde, Jeanne Moreau and the inimi- table Elizabeth Taylor is apparently more than most of us can absorb. Recog- nition in Jamaica, when it comes, is for his poetry, B.B.C. television scripts or various children's textbooks rarely for his major film scripts. Born in Hector's River, Portland on 29 December 1927 to property owner Fred M. Jones, one of Jamaica's largest individual landowners, Evan Jones was named after his great-grandfather, a Welsh clergyman of the Church of Eng- land, who came to Jamaica in 1842. Morgan Jones, his son, chose agricul- ture over the ministry, leased a ruinate property in 1872 and married a Jam- aican, a Burke from Portland. But the Jones association with religion didn't end there, for Evan's own mother, Gladys, was a Quaker missionary from Iowa who came to teach at the Happy Grove School. Little wonder then that much of Evan Jones's work deals with matters of conscience, with spiritual equa- tions which touch the soul: the need for nuclear disarmament (The Damned); opposition to slavery ("The Fight Against Slavery"); whether one must fight in war (King and Country); should one advocate land reform if it means the destruction of one's own family ("In A Backward Country") and so on. Jones acknowledges, 'I was brought up as a Quaker. If you don't believe in organized religion, Quakerism is a very good faith to adhere to because the dog- ma doesn't exist, only the concerns. And I don't think you can argue with the idea that there is something of God in every man. You can define something and you can define God any way you like, but the statement is true.' Religion forms part of even his earliest Jamaican memories: 'From my nursery bedroom window you looked out over the Seaside Church which was built by the Quakers. But every night you could hear the Kumina in the hills just behind, and everyone in the village seemed to have two religions. They went to the Quaker church on Sunday, but they weren't so silly as to believe their own ancestral faiths were rubbish.' And did he ever, out of curiosity, go to Kumina? 'I didn't', he admits with a rueful grin. 'My mother would have had a fit!' While his 'proper Victorian Church of England' father served on the Happy Grove School Board and his mother was at one time acting headmistress there, Evan and his brothers and sisters had a Jamaican governess at home. Then the twelve-year-old twins, Keith and Ken- neth, and nine-year-old Evan were sent to Munro. It was at Munro that Evan Jones recognized what would become his life's work. 'I became interested in literature and in writing by the accident of hav- ing a teacher whom I admired very much, and I'm sure this is not unusual. His name was Reg Bunting [subsequent- ly a headmaster at Wolmer's] and he was a graduate of Cambridge. I was 12. Suddenly English literature, the read- ing of it and the composition of it, be- came terribly important to me. I start- ed writing poetry in my school note- books and stories and that kind of stuff. I wanted to be a writer from that time on.' He started with poetry because, 'I think poetry is the thing one goes to first if you're romantically inclined, especially if you've admired the poets of the past. I love the romantic poets and Shakespeare and so you write poetry. 'I changed when I was in my early twenties. I became much more interest- ed in the drama because my approach only allowed for my own voice and I wanted to argue with myself. I wanted to have other points of view. I felt that one couldn't get at anything called truth if you just expressed one side of it, and the drama was what appealed to me as a way of doing this.' Inadvertently his parents' careers and their influence upon his childhood also contributed to his decision to become a writer. 'I was involved with my father', Jones recollects. 'He was on the property every day and we went out with him, the boys, always. I rode the property with him day after day . .. My father didn't go to university but he was one of those Victorians who recited poetry all the time, driving along in the car or riding on a horse. 'My mother was very interested in writing too. She wrote sermons and delivered them in the local church. If it was Harvest or Christmas or just an ordi- nary Sunday, the congregation could be 10 people, or 300'. And Jones watched his mother deliver those sermons. 'There was a period when she took service at Seaside Church once a month, and then she used to do the prayer meeting at Long Road once a week. She did the service at Amity Hall once a month. She was very, very active and she directed the church pageants. My father was a bit of an actor. He starred in one of the church pageants when she used to do them. Evan Jones Man of Two Worlds By Laura Tanna Always a part of his parents' active lives, Evan accepted their different nationalities and careers easily. 'One was aware sometimes of her American- ism and her homesickness. One was aware sometimes of her connection with the other white, Quaker missionaries, as distinct from say my father's con- nections with other Jamaican business- men or his connection with the school, but it never seemed odd, this disparity of backgrounds. 'I'd been to the States as a child, to my mother's family in Iowa, to my uncle there who lived on a farm . and so when you ask about colour and social relationships, when asked of a Jamaican ' it's in many ways a meaningless ques- g tion. There are members of my family i who are all white and there are mem- bers of my family who are all black and so as a child the question of association never came up. I could be with one uncle who was black and with another who was white. They probably spoke differently and that was it. 'And similarly when one played, or at Evan Jones at his home at Twinhoe, Avon, England. school, one's friends were various colours: black, Chinese, white, brown. It wasn't until I went to school in America at the age of 17 that I realized what the so-called 'problem of race' is. I suppose as a child I may have been very blinkered, deliberately unaware, because I think that an adolescent grow- ing up in Kingston nowadays is much more aware of colour than we were then. But I think this is a learned at- titude because Independence and atti- tudes to tourists and things like that have brought the colour business to the surface in a way that it wasn't before. 'I mean there was always the Jam- aican ability to make jokes about colour and abuse your best friends because of their differences in colour, which is a way of dealing with it, but colour pre- judice in a legalized, secret society way, I only ran into when I first got to America. I think it's much less in America now. It really is. But those were the days when you had the black and white signs in the railway stations. When I first saw those in Miami I didn't know what to do, so I stood on the plat- form. I wouldn't go into one of those if it excluded the other part of me. 'From Munro I went to Haverford [a university in Philadelphia, Pennsyl- vania founded by the Friends] at 17, majored in English and Spanish and took a degree in 1949. I wrote my first plays when I was there at Haverford. The very first play that I did was about the White Witch of Rose Hall because I was looking for something that the Americans around me would not have chosen. I directed it, I think, and it was terrible. Another one-act play was written and produced at Haverford and I wrote a full-length play called Inherit This Land, which was produced in Jam- aica later by the Little Theatre Move- ment in 1951. Zachy Matalon directed it and Greta Fowler, bless her heart, she was in it. That was my first full-length play on the stage. 'After graduation I went to Palestine. I'd already worked in Mexico one sum- mer for the American Friends Service Committee and they were looking for people with a little bit of experience. So in 1949 I went and worked with the Quakers for the United Nations on Arab Refugee Relief. This was just after the first Arab/Israeli War. 'It was very important to me, a very shattering experience, because I found myself, at the age of 21, in charge of a refugee camp of 30,000 people. I was in charge of distributing food to these people. One Quaker was in charge of each camp on the Gaza Strip and had a staff of Arabs recruited from the re- fugees. I was in charge of the camp at Khan Yunis and had an interpreter - marvellous man, an Armenian who spoke fluently Hebrew, Arabic and English. I suppose in effect he was in charge of the camp and I took the rap because I was the foreigner. 'It was a lot of responsibility for someone 21 years of age. It was a poli- tical education in that I had only heard of the Arab/Israeli problem second- hand. I learned not to take sides in these disputes because the more you learn about something as complicated as that situation, the more you realize there are no black and whites in human relation- ships. I saw suffering there that I had not experienced and that I was respon- sible for trying to do something about. I think in encountering the corruption that went on in the distribution of sup- plies I had my first strong smell of evil. The only source of wealth was the food that we were giving away and there were people who would stop at nothing to steal it, to sell it and to take it away from others. I had naively thought that the good in everyone was just lying there waiting to be brought out. I began to feel after some of the clashes I had in those camps that evil was just as strong. That's what I thought at the time.' After one of the most crucial years in his own development, Jones went direct- ly into another, contrasting cultural context. He enrolled at Oxford Uni- versity to do a degree in English. 'It was the first time I'd ever been to Eng- land and I absolutely hated Oxford the first year, loathed it. It seemed to be a place full of snobbish and arrogant children, but you see, I already had a degree and I'd come straight from the refugee camp, so to meet young boys from Eton and Marlborough who'd come up to Oxford was not something that I could cope with. But by the second year I'd formed a circle of friends, largely Rhodes Scholars: Hector Wynter from Jamaica who became the editor of the Gleaner; Neville Dawes who be- came executive director of the Institute of Jamaica; Julius Lister from South Africa; two American mathematicians, Dale Dick and Bob Bass; an Australian fast bowler whose name I can't remem- ber; along with Christopher Railing, the producer, who was the only under- graduate of the group. We formed a little clique of older, international stu- dents and I enjoyed the second year at Oxford very much. Then I went back to America to teach. 'I didn't go back to Jamaica be- cause I didn't feel there was a place for me on the farm. I didn't want to work on the farm. I had no other profession- al qualification. I wanted to be a writer and I didn't think Jamaica was going to be the place to do it. When I told my father I wanted to be a writer he was very indulgent. He said, "Yes, you can go ahead and try to be a writer, but when you're ready to work, there's a job for you." He wanted me to study law, which I didn't want to do. 'I had close friends in America. I'd written to them about what I was going to do with myself and they got me a job with the Campbell Soup Co. There was a policy decision to try to hire some black or coloured people and I was a very convenient coloured person, be- cause I was a coloured person whom no- body would recognize as a coloured per- son. And I am a coloured person and proud of it but by the time I got to Philadelphia there'd been a reversal of policy and I had no job at all. 'I tried to get a job on the basis of my Oxford education and no one would even talk to me because they said I was too well educated, so by saying that I had worked on a sugar plantation I got a job in the furnace room at a bubble- gum factory which kept me going until I got a job teaching English at the Put- ney School in Vermont [a Friends insti- tution]. Then for two years I was an instructor at Wesleyan University in Connecticut, at the end of which I had proved that I could make a living at teaching, and had a profession I could enjoy and go back to. So I said, I'm going to do what I want to do. I'm go- ing to try to make a living as a writer.' Jones had been writing consistently over the years, making his first impres- sion upon Jamaican readers with his poem "Song of the Banana Man", which was written partly in England and part- ly in the United States. 'That came about as a result of a discussion with Neville Dawes about what West Indian poetry should be. I remember arguing that it should not be just like English poetry, or dialect verse but should be comprehensive, and incorporate the rhythms and language of both. And Neville challenged me to prove it. So I wrote "Song of the Banana Man", which was not just an exercise, because it's a poem about my childhood. It was Neville who got it published in Bar- bados and read on the B.B.C. "La- ment of the Banana Man" was written 10 years later after I'd separated from my first wife and was living alone in London.' Jones also wrote Protector of the Indians, an historical biography of Bartholome de Las Casas. '[Thomas] Nelson's were doing a series on religious leaders which was intended to sell to schools in America and I happened to know the chap who was editing the series. He asked me if there were a reli- gious leader from the West Indies in whom I was interested. I put up the name of Las Casas who was concern- ed with the emancipation of Indian slaves and saving the indigenous Indians in the Caribbean and Central America.' But Evan Jones wanted to write drama, and in 1956, at the age of 28, he made a decision: 'The time had come to take the plunge and see if I could live off my writing. I decided to go to Lon- don because London, I believed, was where everything was happening; the recovery of England from the war and the influx of all the Commonwealth, new or old, meant that England was a very lively place to be, intellectually and artistically. A lot of people agreed with me and the place was full of Aus- tralians, Indians, South Africans and West Indians all busily writing away. 'Just before I left the States I met my first wife. We had to decide whether to get married or keep the friendship going over a longer period of time and consider it more thoroughly. Naturally we did the rash thing and got married immediately. So she came with me and her father, who was a very distinguish- ed critic in America, Francis Ferguesson who wrote The Idea of A Theatre, gave me introductions to Eliot, Spender, and a young producer at the B.B.C. called Stuart Burge. I met the great men, but it was through Stuart that I got my career started. 'Stuart had a play he was going to produce and it fell through, so he called me up and said did I have anything I could offer to fill the gap?' What Jones had to offer was material on the wrench- ing experience of Khan Yunis, the Pales- tinian Arab refugee camp. 'I had just finished this play so by a miracle I'd only been in the country six months and I was getting my first play done on B.B.C. television.' "The Widows of Jaffa" was produced in 1956-7 and met with great success. 'Then I did another play for the B.B.C. called "In A Backward Country", [1959] about land reform in the West Indies. The subject of that play was in- directly based on my own family, and more directly based on the David and Absalom story. I used to look for ideas for plays in the Bible. I made King David a large landowner and Absalom, his son, a politician who advocated land reform and thereby destroyed his father. Nobody who's ever seen that play recog- nizes the David and Absalom in it be- cause it's a political parable about life in Jamaica. The plot is that the son of a wealthy landowner goes into politics, as my own brother Kenneth did, and in the political climate of the time, he es- pouses the cause of land reform which means splitting up the large estates and he and the party he espouses take over his father's land and divide it up. So he plays a part in the ruin of his own house, so to speak. It's a long time ago that I wrote that play.' It was produced on the B.B.C. and later in Guyana in 1964. 'I read somewhere the other day somebody arguing against the didactic theatre saying it's not the business of the playwright to take sides and have a heavy influence on politics. It's his job to show a situation so that people can understand it better, or feel more fully about it, and I hope that's the case in that play. 'I went back to Jamaica for six months in 1959 or '60. My brother Keith went on long leave and I went home and ran the farm. I thought I could work on the farm and write and I realized that this was not possible. If I was going to be a writer I suppose I'm an ambitious one. If I were going to open a department store, I wouldn't open it in Shepton Mullet. I'd open it in London. And if I were to write for the theatre or for films I'm going to do it either in London or New York or Hollywood, because that's where the market is and that's where the other people who are largely connected with the business are.' Jones was keenly aware of a problem which faces writers of many national- ities. If one's own language is spoken by a limited number of people, as is Jamaican English, how does one com- municate with the larger world com- munity? 'You see, it's difficult in films to write specifically, even for an English audience, because the Americans don't understand a Scottish accent or a Liver- pudlian one properly spoken. You have to write in some sort of vague trans- atlantic English when you're writing for films.' So Jones went with his first wife to New York where he wrote a third television play for the B.B.C. 'It was about the loneliness of urban life and in fact [when produced in 1964] was the most successful of the television plays I did. It was called "The Mad House On Castle Street", but because it was about an English subject, people could associate with it much more easi- ly. I suddenly found that my name was being noticed in the business. 'While I was doing a Palestinian or West Indian subject it could be presumed that this was a one-off and not signifi- cant. It really is a terrible business for somebody to come from another country and even have one huge success with a play about that country. The establish- ment of the English theatre or films does not consider that you've actually arrived. It's an importation. Ray Lawler's Summer of the Seventeenth Doll was a huge success on the West End and people didn't fall over themselves offering him commissioned work about England. "This chap writes about Australian cane cutters". I think the same thing was true of my two plays. They were ad- mired but people in the business didn't start looking for me to give me a job.' And yet it was on the merit of "In A Backward Country" that Evan Jones got his first break in writing a major filmscript. 'I met director Joseph Losey because he had seen my work on tele- vision. I was a great friend of concert pianist Julius Katchen. We'd been to college in America together, and his doctor was Joe's doctor. Apparently they were talking about the plays they had seen on television and Joe said he wanted to meet me and we took it from there. 'Joseph Losey had been subpoenaed by the House Un-American Activities Committee while on a trip to Europe and he decided there was not much point in going back to America and not being able to work again, ever, because he was blacklisted in Holly- wood. At the time I met him he wasn't able to work. Two or three years later he was able to work in England. The first film I did for him was one of his first The Damned [1962]. 'I'd been in the States year and writ- ten a third play for the B.B.C. So I came over to London for that pro- duction and when I got here it was can- celled. So I was looking for a room to L;: a7 Evan Jones (seated, right) with parents and five of his six siblings, a family of 'diverse interests'. live in and trying to decide what to do when I ran into Joe. He invited me home for dinner and rather a repeat of the Stuart Burge situation, he said: "I've got a film that I have to start shooting in a couple of weeks time and I hate the script. Would you look at it and tell me what you think?" And with the ar- rogance of youth I read the script and told him I thought I could do better than that in two weeks. He said: "You're on." And I moved upstairs at this house and wrote The Damned in two weeks. 'The company who made those films was famous for just doing cheap, hor- ror films. Whereas this one concerned the changes in people's bodies because of nuclear war, we thought it was rather a more serious subject and I turned it into a political statement really, against nuclear war.' Jones acknowledges that, 'To start off as I did with everything I wrote being made is most extraordinary, and this was very much because of my situ- ation with Joe. Joe liked to work with a team of people, one or two writers and the same designer and so on. When he was working, we were working.' And work they did, following in 1963 with Eve, which was a love story, a study of romantic obsession, based loosely on a Raymond Chandler book originally set in California but al- tered to be made in Venice, with Jeanne Moreau and Stanley Baker. Their third film together remains Evan Jones's favourite. 'The one I did for Joe Losey about the first World War, King and Country, that I'm very proud of. It's very, very good. It's as strong a statement about war as any- body's ever made in films. It's about the trial of a deserter. And his execution. It's a marvellous film. Joe Losey direct- ed it, and Dirk Bogarde was in it, and Tom Courtenay. It was a small budget art film and we were nominated for the Academy Award, in every category. That was in the early sixties, but we didn't get a single award because we were a little movie that cost 70,000.' Modesty Blaise, Jones's fourth film with Losey, was their last collaboration. 'Two things happened. Basically we didn't get on all that well on Modesty Blaise because we had different ver- sions of what we were trying to do, and at the same time the script of Modesty Blaise had been very much admired by the people who made the Bond films, Saltzman and Broccoli. So when Modesty Blaise was over they offered me Funeral In Berlin, which was the first big com- mercial picture that I'd done. Com- mercially this was the peak of British cinema-making, that particular organi- zation. 'It was a very good work experience indeed. The director was Guy Hamilton, who went on to do Superman and things like that. Guy was absolutely thorough in every detail, planned his whole film before he started, and shot it as he plan- ned it. Joe tended to make them up as he went along, which was why it was rather harder to write a script for him', Jones says with a laugh. 'Or rather, the work came at a different point. My work for Funeral In Berlin [1966] was finished when the cameras started. 'I rewrote hardly anything for Funeral. I rewrote a lot for Modesty Blaise. In a way it was more satisfying in that I like to be involved in the shooting, but at least the work on the script was the work on the script. I didn't have to wake up in the middle of the night and write a part for somebody who'd just struck the director's imagination, who wasn't in the original story at all, and have to figure out how this person can fit into the story. 'You see, a film script it's story- telling. What I have to do is fantasize the story, see it on the screen in front of me. So I try to dream the story, but it has to be only 30 seconds long before it moves on to something else. I put down everything you see as well as everything you hear. I put down where I want the music, what dialogue I want spoken, what the camera's going to do, when it goes from somebody to some- body else. You see, a screenplay is a blueprint. It has to go to the director, to the casting people, to costume, props, lighting and everything else. It has to be very image-oriented, and a lot of scripts that aren't, that are written like novels, make the directors despair. But because of my early association with Joe Losey, he taught me to write a script for the director. If I give him five shots and he wants to do it in one shot, that's all right. But I give him a blue- print for a day's shooting which indi- cates what he can get out of the actors, how the story progresses and so forth. 'A typical film script is about 130-40 pages. My scripts shoot about a minute a page. There may only be on that page five or six lines of dialogue with a lot of description of light and camera and so forth. It's like writing telegrams. 'To do the first draft takes between two and three months but usually there are a lot of drafts which may take six to nine months because the producers get it and they say, "Yes, this is fine but this is too expensive. This doesn't work. I don't like this. This idea, you work on it again." 'Then the director has a go. When it's cast, you may have a very talented actor, his part has to be built up and one who's not so talented, whose part has to be cut down. And then you run into the distributor's problems as well. So that my main contribution is that first draft which I conceive as the film. The second contribution is to keep that film alive through the process of making it. 'The director has the script in front of him but he need not necessarily shoot it. He can ask for new scenes. He can junk other scenes. He can interpret scenes in a way which they were not intended. He's in charge during the mak- The author as youthful footballer. ing of the film. You can say, "I don't agree with that", whatever. But you've got to agree to something for the thing to proceed, and perhaps it isn't until afterwards you think; I should never have done that. Or the thing I thought was so good wasn't absolutely any good at all and that is what I stuck up for. The other person isn't always wrong. 'For instance, Joe Losey, whom I've mentioned many times, his version of a film I wrote for him, King and Country, was so much better than I had imagined it could possibly be, while his version of the last film I did for him, Modesty Blaise, is just absolutely dreadful, in my view. Modesty Blaise is embarras- sing. I saw it the other day. I was just - I thought I'd wasted my life if that's what I'd been doing. 'And then with my latest one, Champions, which was a labour of love because I love national hunt rac- ing and the whole story of Bob Cham- pion recovering from cancer to ride the winner of the Grand National was a natural for the movies. My mother died of cancer. My brother, Keith, died of cancer. So that it was a very personal subject, both the horses and the ill- ness. And when we finished that film and looked at the first rough cut, which was the script as written, just put together with musical backing the director chose from his own record col- lection, it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever seen, that film. 'But it was too long. It was two hours and fifteen minutes and they wanted an hour and fifty-two minutes, so there could be a turn around in the cinemas every two hours with time to sell peanuts etc. And the knives went to work on the film and what one sees is a travesty, in my view. But I suppose I must blame myself for writing too long a film. 'Joe Losey will tell you the same story about that picture called Eve. The full version of that ran for two hours and forty-five minutes and no- body's I think they showed it once in Finland but it's a great disappoint- ment to him what happened to that one. 'The finest actress I've worked with was in Eve, that was Jeanne Moreau. And the best film actor I've worked with is Michael Caine. He's discovered the secret of being a film actor, which is that you use your own personality, be- cause that's what people come to see, and he can bend'a character to suit his personality without destroying the character. A lot of them can't play the character, but he can do both, and he does it with great style and ease. 'Most of the time you're great friends with the actors while you're shooting and then you never see them again. Alexander Knox and I became great friends. He was in The Damned and won an Academy Award for doing Wilson many years ago. When we were doing Victory, Max von Sydow and I used to have lunch together. I think he's an extraordinarily nice fellow and were he living next door, I think we'd be in and out of each other's houses all the time, but I haven't seen him since then. It's a very transient sort of thing. 'You asked me if I had experienced failure. Interesting thing was that I'd done those five films [The Damned, Eve, King and Country, Modesty Blaise, Funeral in Berlin] and after Funeral [1966] I thought all I'd have to do was put my feet up and wait for phone calls to come in. Curiously, I was out of work for nearly a year and a half. I wrote some television plays during the period but I didn't get offered any films and I think it was partly because a lot of people thought I could no longer be afforded. The sort of experimental films and cheaper films weren't looking for someone who had worked for Saltzman and Broccoli and at the same time I wasn't prepared to go to Hollywood, so I had to sweat it out and start doing something not as large. 'I did a couple of plays for the B.B.C. - it's difficult to remember exactly which ones at the time and I wrote a number of scripts nothing happened to. I wrote a lovely script called "All The Angels" that was never produced. I must have written over the years 20 or 25 screenplays and I must have had 10 or 12 produced.' Jones's work during the early sixties includes a play called The Spectators, (1962) a serious treatment of the relationship between tourists and Jam- aicans, which ran for its statutory week at the Guildford Theatre in Surrey, and then a television play for ITV, "Return To Look Behind" (1963 -64), about problems facing a Jamaican immigrant in London who finally returns to Jamaica. When left to his own devices and not working for someone else, Jones consist- ently comes back to Jamaican themes, not only because of his Jamaican child- hood, but because of continued family links. The death in 1964 of his brother, Kenneth Jones, Minister of Com- munications and Works, seemingly strengthened Evan's ties to Jamaica, despite the rumours of foul play which surround the tragedy. Evan explained: 'Well first of all, as to whether he was murdered or not, I wasn't in the coun- try at the time it happened and I'm not a detective inspector so that I know as much about that as anybody else. It is my belief that it was accidental and that he thought he was going to the bath- robm and walked out onto the balcony, lost his balance and fell. I believe that is what happened. As to my family's feel- ings, I wouldn't say there was bitter- ness in the family. My father was still alive and it was a terrible blow to him. Keith was still alive and it was a great blow to him. Poor man. He could hardly show his face for the next six months because people thought he was a ghost, especially those who didn't know there was a twin brother. I'm sure as with twins they were very close; he felt a bit of himself had died too. 'I think that it brought me closer to Jamaica rather than further away. I came home for the funeral and the out- pouring of love that Jamaicans gave to him at his funeral was perhaps the most moving thing I've ever seen, because people believed that he was talented, honest and in politics to serve.' Evan Jones's own career in London got moving again when he collaborated on two films with Canadian director Ted Kotcheff. 'He's now very success- ful in Hollywood but we still see each other from time to time. In 1969 we did Two Gentlemen Sharing about black and white relationships in London in the form of a young liberal white man who was interested in West Indian cul- ture and a young black man who was interested in white culture and the two gentlemen lived together, and then we did something that I'd written earlier for Dirk Bogarde which was set in Aus- tralia, based on an Australian novel, Wake In Fright. The film was called Outback and was in fact the first import- ant film of the Australian renaissance.' Go Tell It On Table Mountain, a one-act play by Jones was produced in Jamaica in 1970 but he is probably best known in the West Indies for the work which absorbed much of his time in the early seventies. 'I went back to tele- vision to do 'The Fight Against Slavery" series with Christopher Railing, a drama/ documentary producer for the B.B.C. Now he's working freelance. He's done a whole series of very good, very import- ant programmes :"The Search For The Nile"; "The Fight Against Slavery"; "The Voyage of The Beagle". We hadn't been in touch really since Oxford but he knew I existed and I knew he existed and he was looking for a writer to work on "The Fight Against Slavery" and thought, "This is Evan's cup of tea." He asked me if I would do one of the series and I said "Well, I would do it only if I could do them all." And we did it. 'It took two years. It took me a year to research and write it and it took a year to shoot it. The B.B.C. were very kind and gave me a researcher so any- thing I wanted, she went off and came back with photocopies from the London libraries, various books, the Parliament- ary Records and a lot of unpublished material. I'm very pleased with "The Fight Against Slavery" '[1976]. The seventies were not entirely con- sumed with works of socially redeem- ing value, however. Another of Jones's assignments was to rewrite the script of Nightwatch [1975], a film featuring Elizabeth Taylor. 'The specific prob- lem was that Elizabeth Taylor wouldn't do it because she didn't like the part the way it had been written so it was just a question of rewriting it. I'd seen her work in other things and an actress like that needs a couple of big scenes and she wants certain moments. It didn't always work as planned. I had written that she commits the murder, comes in, hastily packs her bags and gets in a taxi to go to the airport. But I had to rewrite it because she had ordered, from her designer, clothing to do the murder in and clothing to go away in. So the script had to be altered to give her an opportunity to change her clothes, which I thought was lovely.' Jones only succumbed to Hollywood once, when he wrote the script for Victory, as it was called in America, or Escape to Victory, in the U.K. 'John Huston directed it with Michael Caine, Sylvester Stallone, Max von Sydow and people like that. The English critics, for the most part, screamed with laugh- ter at it, said it was absolute rubbish. And then I picked up a New York critic who'd understood exactly what was in- tended by the film and praised it to the skies, so you shrug your shoulders and carry on. The film's done very well and made a lot of money so I'm happy about that.' Of Hollywood it- self, he says: 'I spent three months and I just lived in a hotel room and wrote the script because my family was here in England.' His family now consists of his second wife, Joanna, a former actress, and their two daughters, Melissa and Sadie. 'The older one is reading English literature at Exeter and I'm sure she'll be in the business of publishing or agenting or writing', says the proud father and 'the younger daughter is here in Bath, taking up drama A level and she wants to be an actress'. She also rides beautifully, on Special Branch, a horse who's very much a part of their family. His English wife and children and their home in the U.K. are another of the reasons Jones writes primarily for the British market, though he brings his own perspective in wherever possible. For instance, his 1977 television script, "The Man With The Power", dealt with a black carpenter in London who uses his psychic ability for religious means. Simultaneously, Jones treats a broad range of subject matter, as in "The Racing Game" [1981], for which he wrote the first episode in a television series based on ex-jockey Dick Francis's novels. When asked about Perry Henzell and Trevor Rhone who try to make Jam- aican films without big commercial backing, Jones responds, 'More power to them. I think its wonderful that they're doing that and I admire them enormously. I think probably they ar- rived at what they're doing by a series of decisions. Perry came over here and learnt his craft but I don't think he wanted a career in England. He wanted to live the way he lives and he wanted to make the kinds of movies he makes and have full control over them. It would be very difficult for him to have full control over his films in an inter- national market. It's a question of per- sonality too, because I don't mind so much dropping the responsibility for the total creation and working in a team of people who are producing something.' Ultimately Evan Jones feels himself to be an international writer. 'I've written films about England. I can work on American subjects. And Australians I get along very well with. Four or five years ago Outback was being revived, so I feel I'm an honorary Australian writer and I am a member of the Aus- tralian Writers Guild. I've done another film for them since and I'm working on one now which is the first incident in Australian history. In films I write what- ever comes 'up. I'd never heard of the 1629 wreck of the Batavia until I met the Australian director, Bruce Beres- ford, who was interested in it. So off we go. I now know more about it than all but two or three people in the world. 'But the material that's personal to me, nobody else can write, can only be written essentially as a novel. I think that films and television have been very good to me and I've enjoyed them very much. I've got great satisfaction out of them. There's only been over the years a lingering feeling that I'm missing out on the writing of prose, that I'm a little tired of writing telegrams, sort of speed writing for somebody else to interpret. When one writes a novel, the thing is complete and final, exactly the way you want it. So I thought I'd like to do one before I go. 'Five years ago I wrote a script based on D.H. Lawrence's Kangaroo. It's been knocking around Australia and it seems to have found a home with a producer who is going to make it this November, that is if there are no more slips between cup and lip. I have to go out there for a couple of weeks but I'm not starting a new project until I've got the back of the novel broken.' As to how much of the novel is about Jamaica, Evan Jones replies: 'It's all Jamaica.' Even the experience of his brother's death and the outpouring of feeling at the funeral? 'It will be in the novel, yes.' To have a family with many differ- ent interests must inevitably provide material for such a book. Why does he suppose his family is so diverse? 'I think because my parents were both very interesting and powerful people. They also had a very, very strong sense of purpose, of morality, and of destiny perhaps. If you are an important family in a parish by important I mean social position and wealth rather than intrinsic importance, because that's a different thing we were all brought up to believe we had to be somebody and do something, in a very small way like the Kennedy family in the States. Or like old, aristocratic, landed families in England. 'It was your job as a human being, because you were born into the manor, to do something with it. The eldest son ran the estate. It's in the tradition. The second son fought in the R.A.F. and then he came back home and went into politics. And the third son, I have no position within the family, on the land. But I must nonetheless use my life. I chose to be a writer. The brother behind me is a psychiatrist. He runs a hospital in California. And Richard now, the youngest brother, has inherited the job of running the farm. So its that sort of tradition'. But Evan Jones won't be working from journals or diaries. He insists, 'I have a very naive belief, I believe psy- chiatrists bear this out, that you never forget anything. Your memory is just one enormous bank. It pops up when you need it and if you concentrate hard enough, it will come back to you. The novel cannot be just pure nostal- gia. Any incident that I describe in the novel which may be based on fact and IBBaffiaK perhaps involve other people, ask the other person what happened and they'll tell you the story differently. Or tell you quite a different one because the memory is accurate but the creative pro- cess is a reassembling of material. No- body would be interested in a thousand pages of my reminiscences. I've got to turn it into something more than that. But use my own life and my own mater- ial, yes. They all say that everyone has one novel in them and most people write it first. I'll be taking a chance in writing it last. 'I think if there's a final point I want to make it's that I'm a double character in some ways. Although I've become an international writer, what- ever that may be, I'm also still a Jam- aican one. Jamaica is my home and my roots and provides whatever material or inspiration I have, essentially. I've just learned to use that material in an inter- national way but I have kept going throughout my love for and my interest in Jamaica and I've kept writing about Jamaican subjects when I can. 'My early poetry, "Song of the Banana Man" and "Lament of the Ban- ana Man", "The Fight Against Slavery", the children's stories that I've written for Longman, the new set of children's stories for Ginn, some of the plays, some of the characters in the plays, and finally the novel are all essentially Jam- aican. 'I'm glad I haven't confined myself entirely to that, because I might have found myself writing in a circle. I love being able to do these different things. I write a German spy story one year and an historical Australian subject the next, and I suppose I'm very, very lucky to be both these people'. Chronicles of Unchaos Rex Nettleford's Dance Jamaica By Edward Kamau Brathwaite The artist in Caribbean society has an idea, image, piece of '.' wood, a word, flesh of metal, a tonelle it comes like the flame of a struck match 'from the universe', 'from a god', but it also comes from that rough strip along the scraped side of the box and from the flint crowning the head of the match/stick the struck match, the ripped flame, flicker, spark of god, is most valuable & most vulnerable at the moment of initiation: the cupped hand, steady wick, dry wood or quickened leaves. The compost of this artist's metaphor must be yes trash & ready the artist's god must have, whatever else, a mundane funda- mental hospis: a flammable environment The artist does not always know this. Sometimes he/she I knows but does not care; does not/ perhaps cannot always trust it. Or not allowed to come to trust it and sometimes the fundament itself resists. Is cold in/flam- 4 mable or hostile Dancers from Bridgens (c. 1840). 0 .0 The 'successful' artist is the 'lucky' prometheus: striking the - right match at the moment's limit The NDTC between performances at the City Center Theatre, New York (above) in September 1983. That was the NDTC's fourth visit to New York and one of the many international tours taken to the UK, Germany, the USSR, Canada, Australia, Mexico, Cuba, Venezuela, Bermuda and the Eastern Caribbean. Traditional music collected from the field forms the basis of many of the scores used by NDTC choreographers. In front of the NDTC singers (above, left) led by Marjorie Whylie (seated left) is the benta, an instrument made out of bamboo and played by drummers Billy Lawrence and Leaford McFarlane. Left, Ni-Woman of Destiny (Barnett, 1976), the story of Nanny of the Maroons is both history and legend. It is about the power of the Woman in Afro-Caribbean society. Dance Jamaica Cultural Definition and Artistic Discovery: The National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica 1962-1983 is published by Grove Press, New York. Price (J) $195.00; U.S.$29.95. What I say here applies to all of us: poet playwright sculptor choreographer, and not to artist only but to all initiators of creativity: flag or conflagration. But in the Caribbean: colo- nial ex-colonial developing un-developing (third) world: each click or scratch & stage is crucial: fraught with danger magic mystery the drought of luck :the work/hardwuk that works: Phillip Moore raising Cuffie in Georgetown, Karl Broodhagen putting up Bussa in Barbados, Edna Manley's resurrection of Paul Bogle in Morant Bay, Rex Nettleford & Eddy Thomas conceiving of a National Dance Theatre Company at In- dependence 1962 in Kingstontown Spark flame possibility: possibility spark flame in an environment of sounds & pressure meanings: back-a-wall, moonlight city, dungle, rock steady ska, sputnik, satellites, the satellites, don drummond's green & island trombone sound to cup & keep this flame they had to dance new colours: green and gold and black and fire where before there had been red and blue and white (p 39) and glacier. To know these colours crow, they had to dance no learn to dance Jamaica 3 What keeps (has kept) Caribbean/l IlWorld initiators artistical- ly alive is, among other things, their IGNORANCE best haspirated HIGnorance: of the Opelessness, that open hole of history and the context into which it's thimbled them: middle passage children of sisyphus: ghetto upon ghetto on guitar: of how the house is made of scards & how the stars are stack- ed against us. The ignorance of unspoiled souls. ?Redemptive innocence. But also just plain low down ignorance: like who is Nanny and which island of the Caribbean is made of coral & basalt and is a butterfly, and not knowing the names of our flowers & trees & villages & birds and calling them dat, like 'when the Company was unaware of the rich drumming heritage of Jamaica ..' (p169) 4 There are several ways of approaching Rex Nettleford's new book, Dance Jamaica (1985), his second on the NDTC (Roots & Rhythms came out in 1969) and his third (Mirror Mirror 1970, Caribbean Cultural Identity 1978) on aspects of our cultural development. For now it is a tarot pack of pictures and I turn to the photo on p 32: Thomas, Nettleford, piano, Ve've' Billie Holiday and is that an almost dove flickering and partly held in Nettleford's watch hand? 'The picture was taken in 1960, two years before the Company's founding.' and the threshold/link & lady between the two initiators is not Billie Holiday but Ivy Baxter: The difficulties for the choreographer ... were insur- mountable ... supposedly because of the lack of a ready- made technique and vocabulary and an acceptable aesthetic framework [which of course] the imported European classical ballet readily offered. Ivy Baxter. . was not daunted by such difficulties, and even before she made an intensive study of the gestures and habits Eddy Thomas (at the piano), Ivy Baxter (director of the Ivy Baxter Creative Dance Group) and Rex Nettleford discussing the score com- posed by Thomas for "Once Upon a Seaweed" a musical with book by Alma Hylton-MockYen and music by Eddy Thomas. Noel Vaz directed while Baxter and Nettleford choreographed. This was in June 1960, two years before the founding of the NDTC. of the people [and gave us The arts of an island 1970], she surveyed the immediate environment and began to create dances in the spirit of Jamaican realities, draw- ing on stories and folksongs as well as street gestures and the life of the marketplace [pp 28-29] Features which would also become important aspects of the NDTC's development. And on the same page where these words occur, another Legba precursor & initiator: Beryl McBurnie of the Little Carib Theatre, Trinidad,1 whose visits, performances and lectures to and in Jamaica 1955 & 1957, created the same kind of confirmatory excitement in pre- Independence cultural/nativist circles as did the bronze visit of Robert Serumaga and his Uganda Theatre Company in the early 'revolutionary' seventies Here, then, were the gathering forces of the Alternative/to ballet, to 'classical' music, to the imposed superexcellencies of Western culture; though, as the tone and tenor of Nettle- ford's text here indicates, with him and the NDTC pioneers, there was never that stride and stridency so often associated with (cultural) revolutionary activity. That kind of curve was never their style nor their conviction. They saw (some say they wanted) both sides of the duality. Though increasingly they recognized that to create (moving it away from taint of lewd and heavy-hip and stereotype and coon and night- club act) and to sustain creation of the felt and known and ancient/new, they had to move towards what in effect they always were: the alter/native(s): The flexed foot is useful as symbol not only of hoe and pickax [e] but also of resolution, strength and earthiness. The arms, like other parts of the body, must be able to describe the curve of mountains, the flow of rivers, and the ebb and flow of oceans, just as in other traditions the movements of swans and the shapes of Gothic cathedrals, skyscrapers, and pine trees piercing the Court of Jah (Nettleford, 1975): final sequence in the tribute to the artistry of Bob Marley. Kumina (Nettleford, 1971); ancestral rites as source of energy for the Company's work winter sky have found [their own] correspondences ... [pp 176-77] And what better time to strike the match than at the moment of Independence when the new symbolic colours made most urgent sense and challenged most an urge towards alternative: the altered native: with memories of '38, the campaigns of the Heroes, Horse of the Morning, Banana Bottom, Hills, Extra-mural, Mapletoft Poulle, and Brother Man now chanting from the island's stones of I&l, Selassie I and Ityopia 5 For dance and dance theatre (all through the book and esp on p106, Nettleford makes the fine significant distinction) there must be bodies: instruments: committed tendons to be trained. And muscle memoried. And motivated. Bare foot that walked the dusty streets perhaps ancestrally, now calmed or caged in shoes; the mountain climbing buttocks getting soft in cushioned drawing rooms; the young and anxious mind prepared to leap from Lovers Leap to Paris or Manhattan, turn lazily to Vogue or (?even) Sadlers Wells... To warp them back to something else and something further in themselves: the sense of deeper down & future: the thousand hours of sweet & sweat& hard floor un/remembered here. This is the burden of the Company recorded, celebrated in this compact resonating volume 2 6 The three at that piano (1960) are maroons (for Nettleford on this: pp14, 19). To become its vision, the Company had now therefore to move from nouveau riche or nouveau real and cellophane and cosmo cosmopolitan .. to Accom- pong. Back, that is, to the hills of its island's history and the shared history of our whole huge half-sunk archipelago; for- ward, that is, to jerk and jeng and harst, cassava bammy, rivermaid and cooing dove and engine driving (pp21-22); shango from imitative eleison and necrophyllic languish, to rib cage contract/ripple, sufferer (see pp 23-29) and cave and kumina This kind of modern maronage, wilful and conscious and expertise, is possible only in a country with a houm, what Erna Brodber detonates as koumbla and somewhere else I said was nam. That is, in Caribbean countries where there was (is) Toussaint and Marti and Nanny and Makandal and Garvey and Yemajaa and Fidel and Fedon and Bob Marley and where the people of the country know this, love this, try to live this, live this, despite the contradictions. On this the artist consumes his talent light not like a candle, tallow till both ends are run, but like the self-creating energy and hool of sun; artist and art and audience making one whole, like at Sabina Park and Kensington Oval at cricket, like at the Carnival in Trinidad, like with Redemption Song. The audi- ence as 'collective wisdom . of the people' (p16) at last beyond the academic critics) (pp 257-66). The audience as Siva, seeing its own artist in its mirror. Re/creator Which is perhaps why, until the lion drums became well & wall & triumph in the Company's kinesis (see p257); till Marjorie Whylie let damballa loose among her Singers; until r- W ... IM 4 Launching ceremony: Rex Nettleford, the author, leafs through a chapter of the book with two founding members of the NDTC and current choreographers: Sheila Barnett, director of the Jamaica School of Dance (left) and Barbara Requa tutor administrator and head of the junior section of the school. Kumina, that is, became art and parcel of the repertoire (1971/72) leading from there to Myal (1974) and Gerrehbenta (1983) and Sulkari (1980, which could be 1480!) and The Crossing (1978) and the Court of Jah (1975) . there would be always George the Baptists calling from the roots (p 72), and audience intensity not always taut enough to cheng 7 Now to give thanks and celebrate its 21 of years of working working building on, the Company's initiator, (co)founder, leading dancer, chief choreographer, Artistic Director and now chronicler, bears detailed, comprehensive, often candid witness to the Company's achievement not only as success- ful, long-lived, active growing organon; a household word at home, pace setter, cynosure, progenitor of style: not only dance but costume/dress and colour scheme and shape (I think) and music: songs sometimes seen for the first time on their stage, leading to new discoveries: what more could prophets want and in their own poor, rich, blessed, bleeding and beloved country but also instrument, the author hopes, of social change (p40). It is this extra-terpsichorean concern, connected too with the distinction dance & dance theatre, and with collective wisdom of the tribe, and the experiential aesthetics of our history; this remarkable and remarkably successful fusion of actor, artist, author, scholar, administrator, lecturer, broad- caster, consultant and facilitator, earning him the accolade 'Renaissance Man' to that already Hon (1975) and Musgrave Gold (1981), that is perhaps more than any other single factor, responsible for the remarkable success of the National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica. Though it is equally true and crystalled from this book (as fine as the achievement it recalls) that it is the Company itself and its whole ambience, that is finally responsible for itself/itself: fears failures future - and success Which is why Nettleford, in summing up, towards the end (see 'The . Company as Catalyst' pp243-256 and 'The Company as Model' pp 267 -279) makes perhaps one of the most daring ?revolutionary and most natural ?political state- ments yet made out here in the Caribbean : that a group of modern day maroons, highly skilled and dedicated, world connected, people based, subsistent volunteers3 & pioneers of grace within the nation state, can, through their work and art, and the lesson of & from their work and art, become a model of success/development, of bridge and heal, trans- figuration for our still crab sideways underdeveloping world. How does this grab you Platon? 8 The book (317 high quality paper pages), superbly edited and leaved (laid out) by Grove Press of New York, and illus- trated by the author and his publishers, is divided into nine chapters + Foreword, 4 Appendices, and Notes & References (pp296-310) often as informative as text (cer- tainly an indispensable complement to it) and an Index. The book begins (pp 13-37) with a look at the cultural context out of which dance and the arts of the Caribbean come: slavery, suffering, severance and fragmentation. Chs 2-6 concentrate on the (Ch2) history of the Company, the socio-political energies which made it conceivable and possible; followed by brief biogs of the Founders (directors, dancers, musicians, technicians, administration etc); its growth through the 'watershed'years 1967-68, tours overseas, work & research at home, the founding of the School of Dance in 1970 and the Cultural Training Centre in 1975/76. Ch3 deals with the repertoire: themes and content, with especial looks at Female (pp127-134) and African (pp134- 142) Presences, and the role of religion and ritual (pp142- 153) in the Company's development. Ch4 details the happily developing integration of music & dance as a significant element in the Company's success; while Ch5, which some commentators found least satisfactory (perhaps not long/ detailed/explanatory/exploratory enough? 16pp as cf Ch3's 56pp?), deals with the Company's aesthetics (technique, vocabulary, style)4: For me the chapter is fine, finding its own place in the scheme of the book. But comparing it with two of the few other books written on dance in the Caribbean, Molly Ahye's statement on the dance and on Beryl McBurnie's dance theatre enterprise in Trinidad, we can begin to see where a more specialized study, using sketches, choreographic notation and the kind of language being developed for the Company by Cheryl Ryman (p250), would/will be possible. Ch8, 'The Company and the critics', meanwhile, is perhaps best read in conjunction with this chapter The Appendices (Tours, Repertoire with first date of each item, its choreographer, music/composer, costume designer) is just what a book of record such as this requires. Perhaps, next time, some more on costumes, sets and lights (per- haps a book, too, by one of the technicians? one/some of the musicians?). Next time (edition?) a Bibliography of Caribbean Dance, especially since Nettleford's own notes and references acknowledge far more scattered articles, reviews and newspaper comments that one was until this book not aware of. And this bibliography could include an account of the by now many films and videos on or about or by the NDTC Up-front with the text, parallel and integral part of the book, are the photographs and illustrations. 263 photos, in fact, including the two initiators (p38), in dance poses (p53), 24 pics of the original Company members (dancers, musicians, technicians and all), the 4 postage stamps (p99) of the Company, issued by the Government of Jamaica in 1972; the first graduating class of the School of Dance (p100, not dated); 76 pictures from some. of the 110 works in the Company's repertoire 1962-83; 34 shots of the (full) Company members and guest artists in action; 14 mugshots of the new (1983) dancers; 19 of the singers & musicians, inc Marjorie Whylie on p229 On p188 there is the only full page portrait in the book (ex- cept, that is, the full page of the Initiators p38): a peerless Yvonne daCosta, with long long long long long long long cigarette holder in All God's Children ... undated ... timeless ... Notes 1. The artistic as ?distinct from the socio-cultural context of N DTC dance is Jamaica ancestral + Jamaica popular & contemporary, Caribbean traditional, Haiti & Ailey, Dunham, Graham, Lavinia Williams (& Mc Burnie) and more recently Alonso & Afro- Cuba. Some useful (background) texts: Katherine Dunham, Les dances d'Haiti (Paris 1950), trans Dances of Haiti (Los Angeles 1983); Lisa Lekis, The origin and development of ethnic Carib- bean dance (U of Florida Ph.D. 1956, pub University Micro- films 1969), Dancing gods (New York 1960); Beryl McBurnie, Dance Trinidad Dance: Outlines of the dances of Trinidad (Port of Spain 71958); Molly Ahye, Golden heritage: the dance in Trinidad & Tobago ( [Port of Spain] 1978), Cradle of Carib- bean dance: Beryl McBurnie and the Little Carib Theatre [Port of Spain] 1983; Cheryl Ryman, 'The Jamaican heritage in dance' (Jamaica Journal 44 (? 1980); ?Anon, Alicia [Alonso] and her Ballet Nacional de Cuba (New York 1981). These + Sylvia Wynter, Judith Bettleheim, Sheila Barnett and again Cheryl Ryman, all on jonkonnu (JJ 4:2 (1970, 10:2-4 (1976), 43:. (?1979), 17:1, 17:2 (1984), and Rex Nettleford's conver- sation with Shirley Maynier Burke about The Crossing (JJ 42: ?1979), are indispensable 2. This sense of a dedicated group of artist/workers fashioned under the vision of a visioner is also found in Derek Walcott's account of the Trinidad Theatre Workshop in 'What the twi- light says', preface to Dream on Monkey Mountain and other plays (1970). Walcott's elated response to the Company's 1971 appearance in Trinidad is several times referred to in Nettleford's text 3. For this, see esp pp237-40 & pp44-52 4. To understand what a dancer/choreographer means by aesthe- tics, we have to become aware not only of his/her riddim/ riddles, pace, contoured energy & colour of the presentationss, but the shapes, impossible to frieze, that he/she tries for/tries for. Far more important, in this respect, than the much vaunted 'vocabulary' of opposition: ripple/jerk/release, arc/stretch/ slide/retract etc are the NDTC's psychocultural images: ikon chips: chiops: fragments-links-coffle-chain-snake splinters-flames-candelabra-falling/flying-leaves-crab circle-houmfort-streetcorner-citadel-trees-hummingbird- -petals/ feathers/wings-doves-pool birth-sunflower-horsehead death-scarecrow-crow/mask-cry-konnu-resurrection/shepherd estI8 Food Specialities Jamaica Limited distributors of PREMIUM QUALITY FOOD PRODUCTS IT TAKES ALL KINDS OF GASES TO SERVE JAMAICA We are manufacturers of a variety of gases and gas mixtures for diversified purposes. OsE JAMAICA OXYVEN & ACETYLENE LTD. FERRY, BOX 13, KINGSTON 10 TELEPHONE: 92-33708 TO ORDER CALL 92-33391 __ qW ART REVIEW Harmony Hall Intuitives By Gloria Escoffery ( Dunkley, the Millers, Kapo, Sidney McLaren, the Browns and more recent- ly William Joseph are all effective anti- dotes to the poison of past conditioning as well as to the present humbug and mischief which persist among some critics and decidedly lesser artists in Jamaica. Such persons either tolerate 'the primitives' or refuse to admit that these intuitive painters and carvers must be closely observed and keenly studied as guides to that aesthetic certitude that must be rooted in our creative potential if the world is to take us seriously as creators rather than imitators. Those intuitive artists have indeed found what to paint with and what to paint on, what to carve with and what to carve on, despite the eco- nomic marginality most of them have suffered in a society that has not func- tioned largely in their interest. I I t is now six years since Rex Nettleford, writing the intro- ductory article for the National Gallery "Intuitive Eye" exhibition, drew the attention of the public at large to what a clique of collectors had long known: that Dunkley, the Millers and their successors, led by Kapo in the Institute of Jamaica "Self Taught Art- ists" shows, were exceptional beings who were more in touch with them- selves, and more interesting, than many 'professionals'. Here, appearing as inevit- ably as the berries on our pimento trees, was not merely an exotic export, but the spice of life itself, in terms of indig- enous culture. However, such a bounti- ful crop is likely to be followed by a lean year. Haiti is ever in the minds of the cognoscenti as a warning. Not only shall we in the long run pay for advance- ment from developing to developed nation status by a process of industrial- ization and a levelling mass communi- cations crisis that will almost certainly destroy the folk culture from which these intuitives sprang; in the short term too, may we not in our very excess of approval stifle the thing we love? Flattered and exploited may not these artists pander to our mediocre tastes and water down their idiosyn- cratic vision? Or may they, in a new found lust after Mammon, reproduce their commercial successes ad nauseam? The tourist industry offers a high road to iniquity for the weaker brethren. Alas for the inevitable descent into 'the pseudo-primitive, or more specifically, the pseudo-African that approaches Kitsch, the so-called "airport art" which we find, not only in Jamaica, but in every island in the Caribbean?' Have the forebodings of the pessi- mists been realized? Is there a line, can a line be drawn, to keep Kitsch out of the genuinely 'intuitive'? How can artists nowadays find what to paint and carve with and on, without compromising their integrity? How can they communicate truly without an audience who under- stands their cult symbols and their inner aspirations? Is art sufficiently universal - or sufficiently responsive to subject- ive imperatives to communicate across the gap that separates cultures? As usual I shall leave these difficult questions hanging in the air and get back to surer ground: Let us examine some of the problems the intuitive artist today faces and see how, in the land of 'push-come-to-shove' he uses his talents, one way or another, in the interest of some compromise between complete self fulfilment and fulfilment of an ap- proved social function. The lignum vitae tree hardens slowly, maturing year by year under the all see- ing sun. Alabaster is, by mysterious processes, secreted within the bowels of Mother Earth. The best things in life are free. Nonsense. Every natural resource in the civilized world has its commer- cial value. The carver must strike a bargain with the dealer in lumber or the entrepreneur mining alabaster for larger industrial purposes. His tools are far more sophisticated than a whittling knife or simple stone chisel. They are power driven and he must face JPSCo. bills. However naive his vision, he must take on the duties and responsibilities of genus 'small businessman': learn to keep accounts, to negotiate bank loans, make income tax returns, cope with insurance. Ask 'Doc' Williamson how often his power drill has been stolen. As for the painter: enamels may be bright and 'folksy', but they are difficult to control and ruin fine brushes which he needs for detailed brushwork. Artists' pigments in oils or acrylics cost a for- tune; a medium sized sable brush may cost well over $50 and a single tube of paint $25. The purchaser may accept home made frames as amusing for after all they are replaceable, but he de- mands that the painting be executed on a lasting ground maybe masonite or even canvas. Dunkley performed won- ders with house paints on cardboard but some of his works were rejected as being too frail to travel in the SITES show. Dunkley kept on with his barbering (as does, or did, Palmer of Falmouth); but the strains of life drove plumber- painter Daley to Bellevue. The art school graduate can usually find a teaching job, but what of the untrained naive painter? Is he destined to pass his days in the Jamaican equivalent of a garret, namely a ghetto tenement yard or some mount- ain hovel where he can live on mangoes and remain ignorant of the temptations of Mammon? There remains, in our country, a residue of colonialism, or paternalism, which suggests that the intuitive, as a national trust asset, should be saved from destitution by official- dom. I have seen the stream of carvers and painters who come knocking at the curator's door at the National Gallery. Last time I was there a farmer from the hills of St Andrew brought in a carving so huge and heavy I wondered how ever he got it to the bus, for probably he had had to walk miles with it. What can Dr Boxer or any person of good will offer but interest and encouragement: keep working; don't neglect the farm; try the commercial galleries. So then, what is the solution? Just that. And if he is lucky there is a Harmony Hall in his future, agents who are understanding and perceptive and honest. A place which after a while be- comes a second home; where he meets his fellow artists, begins to look with an extra critical eye at his own work. In Jamaica the intuitive, like the sophisticated artist and he is likely to be just as gallery wise as the other - tries to accumulate a C.V. of group and solo shows, awards etc. Being establish- ed means having a foot in at least one Kingston gallery and one in a centre in Ocho Rios and/or Montego Bay. The alternative is to be an independent street hustler and hang around hotels; or to establish a stall or tourist centre shop of one's own, as Ocho Rios wood carver Kenneth Williams has done, somehow managing to combine barbershop em- ployment with very serious dedication to sculpture. Narrowing the field to a single group of artists and a gallery I happen to be fairly familiar with, let us then, focus on Harmony Hall and see how their policy works for the artists. The Harmony Hall proprietors have, wisely I think, consolidated the relation- ship with a small group rather than spreading their nets wide and accepting work on consignment from all comers. "Intuitives I was launched in 1982 with painters Kapo (Mallica Reynolds), Everald Brown, Albert Artwell, Allan Zion and one sculptor, alabaster carver John 'Doc' Williamson. If you would like to find out more about these per- sons, and the rest who joined later, I suggest you write to Harmony Hall for information about their brochures; there is one of the Intuitives as a group, and a separate one on Kapo. "Intuitives II" the following year was marked by the launching of one sculptor, William 'Woody' Joseph, St Andrew farmer turned wood carver rather late in life; also a painter, Phanel Toussaint, a Haitian by birth who has settled in Jamaica. The 1984 Intuitives show intro- duced Zaccheus Powell, a sculptor who had established a name for himself in Kingston as the carver of fanciful staffs and macca sticks, bowls, salad servers, etc., all most erotically decor- ated. Then came "Intuitives IV" in 1985, and the launching of two young painters, Michael Parchment and Veron Williams. Although most of the artists live in distant parishes,2 there must be some serious problem at home to keep them from this annual 'family reunion' at Harmony Hall. Kapo and Brother Brown are especially missed if they fail to turn up. The atmosphere is friendly and there !s a crowd of guests in which one is sure Albert Artwell, Jonah and the Whale Veron Williams, Tatch Palm District rglgpp wq~s~!r'r~nm~a~a" Zacchaeus Powell, Kaliman Stick William 'Woody' Josephs, Three Heads to 'buck up' some old acquaintances. The artists talk shop and look warily (as artists always do) at the latest works of their competitors and of course the prices affixed thereto. Drinks are served and there is speechmaking and jollity, general- ly a lunch party for the artists on the lawn after the crowd has departed. For me the most memorable occasion was "Intuitives II" day, when guest speaker Ossie Harding, then a senator, launched the term autochthonouss' art, at the same time brandishing a learned tome which corroborated his theory about the spontaneous appearance of African stylistic characteristics in 'Woody' Joseph's carvings. Had the word been easier to pronounce it might have superceded 'intuitive'; perhaps it is just as well that it was such a mouthful. To some of these artists, especially the older ones, Harmony Hall sales pro- vide the very staff of life, help to solve family problems, pay doctor's bills. It may be instructive at this point to look at the going prices of 'intuitive' art ac- cording to the 1985 Harmony Hall "Intuitives IV" catalogue. 3 Only one of the two Kapos on show was for sale; the price was $10,000. Below that there was a gap, not neces- sarily indicating that the work of the other artists was inferior. Brother Brown's beautiful paintings, carvings and musical instruments, like Kapo's works, go out from his rockfast little house deep in rural St Ann to many a foreign museum and sophisticated liv- ing room. At this show you could have purchased his largest work, Pot of Gold, Cultural Heritage, for $2,500; one of his three precious decorated "Special Dove Lutes" for $1,250. Probably pric- ing his work according to time spent on them as well as size and complexity, Phanel Toussaint offered his large market scene for $2,700. Next in the descending scale of prices for major works came Sylvester Woods, his masterpiece for the occasion being Creation and Garden of Eden, priced at $1,200, while the proli- fic Allan Zion, showing 11 pictures of various sizes which made a blaze of colour on the main wall, covered a price range of $800 to $200. Veron Williams was the hit of the day in terms of instant sales; his naive panoramic scenes of life in a variety of rural com- munities were priced between $350 and $175; purchasers were clearly mov- ing in before next year, when his prices may well, like chicken meat in the super- market, take wing and fly out of sight. Sylvester Woods John 'Doc' Williamson working on a typical alabaster carving above, and standing in front of his studio (right). Everald Brown I-- Allan Zion The other newcomer, Michael Parch- ment, being less assured and clear cut in style, was probably over-optimistic in asking $550 for his largest piece, titled Higglers. (Artwell was not represented at "Intuitives IV", having just had a one- man show.) The sculptors' prices seemed to me very reasonable, considering the skill and imagination involved. In addition to portraits and small figures, Zaccheus Powell showed a lovely Blue Drawers Stick for $600 and three complex sym- bolic pieces at $1,000 each. 'Doc' Williamson surprised his fans by giving his version of Eve, not in alabaster but in wood. This was snapped up for $500. It is interesting to speculate on the cross fertilisation process when one realises that Zaccheus Powell started working in alabaster with 'Doc'Williamson. 'Woody' Joseph showed several portraits and a strange piece titled Axman Bird; these ranged in price from $100 to $600. Of course it is not only in this special show that the Harmony Hall artists sell their works. I imagine that Zacchie makes quite a good, steady income from his hair ornaments, picks and combs, etc. 'Doc' Williamson also produces functional pieces and smaller sculptures which make interesting souvenirs. The lion is almost his personal trade mark, and he also produces a variety of other animals, each one unique because of the exotic variations in the colour and 'texture' of the alabaster. This type of flexibility in adapting almost to two dif- ferent markets has a long and respect- able tradition in the 'curio trade'. After all, the Millers, father and son, partly made their living carving 'sou- venirs' which were, however, way above the level of the usual craft market pro- ducts. Prints and reproductions are usually thought of as the way painters attract purchasers of limited means. Postcards are, apparently, not profitable to pro- duce unless one has facilities for exten- sive distribution. Harmony Hall has therefore opted instead for 'notelets' with royalties going to the artists, and some of the intuitives benefit. They also get paid for designs used for Christmas cards in a project sponsored by Com- bined Charities, a voluntary organization geared to assist six local charities. Then there are the promotional posters and brochures, quite expensive to produce because of the coloured illustrations. Each artist gets 100 copies of the poster in which his work appears; he is also al- lowed to use the colour separations in the brochure, if he so desires. These posters and brochures go out far and wide and give the intuitives the sort of publicity they could not possibly ob- tain on their own. The fact is that the Harmony Hall proprietors though businesslike, aren't really in this venture for personal profit. They genuinely want to be involved in Jamaican life and help promote indigen- ous culture. What of the artists' work? There re- mains space only for a few comments and comparisons and I shall concentrate on the painters, leaving out Kapo, who is already so well known, and Everald Brown, whose work would take a book to analyse or try to explain.4 The term 'intuitive' has perhaps out- lived its usefulness as a way of counter- acting the demoralising effect of 'primi- tive' and the confusion inherent in 'naive' once one recognizes the claims of child art, superficial 'Sunday painting' and art of the mentally unbalanced.5 'Folk art' isn't quite right either, though there are some links between the decorative im- pulse that plays variations on a tradition- al pattern in 'folk' art and the rhythmic energy of the true intuitive. As Rex Nettleford pointed out, all art con- tains a degree of intuition. If we could find a new and better term we could then reserve 'intuitive' for use as an accolade to be conferred only on such originals as Kapo and Everald Brown! Apart from distinctive visionary ex- perience, there seem to be two main lines of development, through dramatic narrative and through pure genre, or genre tinged with satire. These approach- es are not mutually exclusive, and the permutations and combinations are fur- ther complicated by the varying ratio of 'significance' to decorative embellish- ment. Both Sylvester Woods and Albert Artwell are illustrators of the scrip- tures, but their styles are very differ- ent. Woods appears to choose his theme AlbertArtwell There is innCthe liing being a a ah1's ao g1*tln sa f^^^^^irstfir.Thi~~i3is as when he d^~uiscvee "h pit~fatingnovefla^tyoth or^^^^i~~iginl thought ~i~iiuintefc foprtun~ity. t i hetustdgieo Soltu .llrm m e 0in thi mo e t tat th 0rats naua rs ouc of 0hi co nr istep.pewt a hugrfrfufl et seie it So ef l a se 0s 000 urig n thr e ta a,. tist. lisgetidvd al and natina detn. 0boa .. as moiate ay a *unn *eir to be th*et ndi sti *e mus stiet ra t g a n atm sh r whcalo steaq iiino som of lie' maera thing And in it all ae 0s not loesgto0u aaa *a**ca a a z00 a ad Co m tt d t a Bette Ja ac S I... .... a 0h h A d 0. 1 a^^^^^^^^^^^^ a 5^E^^^^^i^^^^ ^^^^^^^ *^^^u *^^^ a 5 0 0 0 -^Vf^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^BJ*A^JjB *H. 0.. 0 1a a e g g,^HB^ZTIB ~ ^^1 t 1Tl UIIi~t7^SM^^^ ^ g^^^^^^^^T^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ S.. S S S S SB^ ~~ *^ii* ~~fT*^ii ui^~ i^^^^^^^E' ^^l^^^^^L^^^^^^^^^^i^^^Kr^frf^^^^^^^^^^^ S 6' *'y 6l 0tlisl~flR~~ii5ii~gn^iTSBiT~f ^^^" S^^^B~^^^^^^^u^yfin| with an eye to its dramatic potential. Thus he frequently takes his themes from history or mythology and special- izes in 'old time' country rituals like Johncanoe; which he tends to repeat, knowing tourists like such themes - with variations of course. The back- ground to these scenes of battle or crises of some kind are very like the lush but stony hillsides of the village in St Mary where he lives; rocks and swathes of dark green foliage provide effective set- tings for his natural or supernatural happenings. Albert Artwell, on the other hand sticks to the bible, interpreting the scriptures along doctrinaire Rastafarian lines. He uses a consistent personal repertoire of emblems clouds with lowering faces, fires, rainbows, moon, sun and stars, split rocks, the Rasta- farian flag. An instinctive decorator, he spreads his scenes liberally across the picture plane, making capital of those individualistic, upright little houses, each with its multicoloured striped roof; he opens them up, like cut outs for a toy village waiting to be folded and glued in place. His animals are a perfect Noah's ark set, not graceful and subtle as they often are in Haitian paintings. Increasingly complex in his story telling, Artwell includes many episodes in the same panoramic view. His tour de force of complexity so far was, of course, the painting in the last National Gallery annual show. Are these two artists to be accorded the label 'intuitive'? Per- haps. Does it really matter? With Allan Zion, who seems at the moment to be in the ascendant, human beings matter not at all as individuals. Stylised into blobby, clumsy creatures, they play their part, like walkways, ponds, staircases, bricks, in the design. Occasionally a specially favoured item, a helicopter as emblem of romantic locomotion perhaps, takes on personal- ity. It is really amazing to see how, with some encouragement and a place to show his work, Zion has blossomed since the days when he used to haunt the National Gallery (then at Devon House), trying to sell his tiny paint- ings of roosters for a dollar or two. Completely urban in his perspective on life, Zion now dreams of Moscow and 'Creative America', working on whole series of complicated composi- tions in which onion domes or tilting skyscrapers (as the case may be) proli- ferate. Carefully choosing a particular range of colours for each picture, he works his way through and out of an en- Brother Everald Brown's musical instruments and a painting, Mystery in the Hills The artists at the opening of the "Intuitives IV" show at Harmony Hall, from left: Michael Parch- ment, Veron Williams, Sylvester Woods, Allan Zion, 'Doc' Williamson, 'Woody'Joseph (behind in hat), Phanel Toussaint and Zaccheus Powell. At right is Dr Freddie Hickling who opened the show. II u-~il chanted conglomeration of linear forms, nowadays combining circular and rect- angular shapes in a really sophisticated way. Here is a natural abstract artist, conditioned to include a narrative, but never to point a moral. Phanel Toussaint and Veron Williams yank us back to 'real' life and reawaken the moral and social sense. Not that either of them paints as if he possesses the eye of a camera. They are very dif- ferent though. Phanel, who had his early training in a Haitian artist's workshop, has a professional's respect for tech- nique. He works slowly, polishing his details and improvising new ways of building up surfaces so as, for instance, to break down the barrier between pic- ture and the frame in which it has its being. He probably understands quite well that 'naive' painting is his metier, and to be too much a 'master' of linear perspective would be against his better interests. Occasionally he takes on the role of folk votarist, but his icons are less convincing than his genre scenes, for at heart he is a social satirist observ- ing the vagaries of human nature and the consequences of folly; as in his illus- tration of the 'two is better than too many' theme. Always, one notes his Latin respect for elegance. This comes out when he has a chance to depict something grand, like the interior of Devon House, with Kapo featured as honoured guest. Veron Williams, by way of con- trast, is Jamaican to the core. It does not disturb him if one of the build- ings he portrays is as ugly as all get out, if it has the solidity of incipient prosperity. In fact he observes details of social rank with great care; a Jam- aican familiar with the rural milieu he represents in his panoramic community scenes, could make an educated guess at the social status and income of every household depicted in his Tatch Palm District. But unlike Phanel Toussaint, Veron Williams is not yet set in his style of painting. His way of looking at life is no different from many a young art student. How he will eventually turn out depends on whether he decides to remain 'naive', a course which may prove quite lucrative, or press on into studies of volume, aerial perspective, scale, light and shadow, and so on. The strain of trying to cope with the complex prob- lems of naturalistic renderings appear now in the compositions in which the figures are drawn on larger scale. The fish in the foreground of his Rocky Point fish market are quite impression- istically handled. Even this sampling indicates what vastly different worlds evolve as a re- sult of different artists' search for an ideal or divinely ordered world. For Everald Brown, the mystic, truths are written into the rocks and pastures he overlooks from the window of his house. Veron Williams objectifies religion as located in a mission house, socialised Christianity. One picture shows a com- pound dominated by church and, pre- sumably, pastor's house. Every shrub is pruned, every person dressed in Sunday best. The children cluster around the trunk of a shade tree, awaiting their Sunday school teacher, who may be that lady or gentleman engaged in discreet courtship on a bench nearby. The station wagon waits in readiness on the driveway. Let us look, chuckle at his keenly observed details, and make up a story; and forget about aesthetics. This too is a way of enjoying pictures! Does the experience of being close- ly involved with fellow artists, and with perceptive patrons and sympathetic dealers change the outlook or vision of (for want of a better word) 'intuitives'? The only positive evidence I can offer to suggest it does is that Albert Artwell no longer depicts all the bad guys as white and all the good guys as black. By such tiny signs of cultural interaction new situations, new artistic styles, new visions of the world come into being. GLORIA ESCOFFERY, O.D., is artist, poet, journalist and teacher and lives in Browns Town, St Ann. Notes 1. David Boxer, "The Intuitive Eye" cata- logue, National Gallery of Jamaica, 1979. 2. Phanel Toussaint has recently moved out of Kingston and lives in a house not far from Harmony Hall, Ocho Rios. 3. Prices are quoted in Jamaican dollars. 4. The National Gallery catalogue to mark the opening of the Larry Wirth Kapo Col- lection (1983) contains a potpourri of articles on Kapo. A study of Everald Brown's life and work is long overdue. i5. Readers interested in studying the many facets of intuitive art on an international scale from the 17th century to the present, should consult Modern Primitives by Otto Bihalji-Merin (Thames and Hudson, 1971) in which the author clarifies distinctions between 'primitive', 'naive' and folk art. He devotes part of a chapter to "Haiti, Between Gods, Poets and Dealers" but does not seem to have been aware of con- temporary developments in Jamaica. A rewarding book, profusely illustrated. Carolyn Cooper is a lecturer in the Department of English, University of the West Indies, Mona. The recipient of a Fullbright Fellowship (1985) she is currently at Howard University, Washing- ton D.C. conducting research on the fic- tion of Toni Morrison and Paule Mar- shall. Dr Cooper's previous contribution to Jamaica Journal was "Proverb as Metaphor in the Poetry of Louise Ben- nett" (17: 2, 1984). David Dolman lectures in the Special Education Department at Mico College and is employed in Jamaica through the Mennonite Central Committee of Akron, Pennsylvania. Dr. Dolman will return to William Rainey Harper College in Palatine, Illinois at the end of the 1985-86 academic year. Cheryl Ryman, researcher and choreo- grapher, has studied extensively the traditional dance forms in Jamaica. Previous contributions to Jamaica Jour- nal include "The Jamaican Heritage in Dance" (44, 1980) and "Jonkonnu: A Neo African Form" (17:2, 1984). She is a member of the National Dance Theatre Company of Jamaica and a former researcher with the African Caribbean Institute of Jamaica. Frank Ross, the director of Aquaculture at Agro 21 Corporation Ltd., has 11 years experience in fisheries and aqua- culture. Dr Ross was formerly head of Research, Production and Training at the Inland Fisheries Project, Ministry of Agriculture. Laura Tanna is the author of Jamaican Folk Tales and Oral Histories. Dr. Tanna writes frequently on art and culture for several publications including Jamaica Journal. She also assists with the govern- ment's oral history documentation pro- gramme, the Memory Bank. Edward Kamau Brathwaite poet and his- torian is professor of Social and Cultural History, University of the West Indies, Mona. Professor Brathwaite is the author of numerous publications including the poetic works, The Arrivants, (1973,) Mother Poem (1977) and Sun Poem (1982). Alcan is committed: *To technological development within the bauxite/Alumina Industry *To safety in the workplace *To productivity in all aspects of our operations *To education at the national and community level, providing scholarship schemes, textbooks, primary and basic school grants eTo supporting health improvements *To innovations in agriculture *To community well being Alcan: Working, participating, building. That's commitment Alcan Jamaica Company 11,llllll| A DIVISION OF ALUMINUM COMPANY OF CANADA LTD. ALCA N I Keeping the home & work place sparkling, fresh & super clean!! SHIRLH ME CHEMICAL CORP. LTD. The home of WONDER-O Products. Seventh Ave. 8 Newport Blvd. Newport West, Kingston 13 PHONE: 809-92-38947 809-92-37445 809-92-39422 BOOK REVIEW I By Mervyn Morris Christine Craig, Quadrille for Tigers. Berkeley, California: Mina Press, 1984. pp.76. Quadrille for Tigers is attractive, accomplish- ed, important. Chris- tine Craig, a significant poet with a pleasing individual voice, often contrives to sound casual, but her poems are craftily layered. Her publishers ac- curately note that the poems in this collection are informed by the poet's 'womanhood as well as her Jamaican roots' and that 'her imagination extends over a wide range of human experience, brilliantly picturing its struggles as well as its joys'. Many of the poems are in- timately Jamaican in reference - "Sunday in the Lane", for example, "The Causeway", or the painterly "St Ann". But their resonances echo wide. In "Lost from the Fold", for ex- ample (p.13), we have Death scuffling his adidas, using macka to pick his teeth, while his dread friend Hunger skanks; but the poem's protest can readily be shared by anyone willing to respond to poverty or neglect, and to the loss of faith. The neglected woman on the street is lost from the fold, apparently forgotten. The per- sona is impelled to turn away from faith. The consolations of the Son of Heaven are bitterly implied to be unavailable under the blaring 'hot sun of this hell'. As in many of the poems, there is also a gender element in the perception: the victim observed is a woman; the God who seems to have absconded is male, as are "Death the certain friend" and his accomplice Hunger. But the claim on our sym- pathies is not restricted by the poem's local habitation or its play of gender. Some of the pieces, more explicitly, speak for the con- dition of woman. ('Poor wo- man, the man's truth/is an empty yabba for you', p.57). But they are often gentle in their address to man, as in "Poem for a Marriage" (p.27), "LovePoem" (p.40),"For Klaus or John or Pierre" (p.50).There are poems of love, of longing, of friendship; poems of friend- ship with other women; poems of family affection. The general tendency is towards love and reconciliation. Even in "Elsa's Version" (pp. 58-9) where Elsa advises men: You can confuse, abuse an mess wid you own self till you good an ready to deal wid I as a real somebody. Quadrille for Tigers Poems by Christine human person traffics in a range of possibilities. We Writing black, the African experience flinging accusations at our colonial past vying with each other to vault most quickly The sharp european fence, Rushing to see Separately Whatever speaks of our warm, black roots. The poem allows for the pos- Still the cold sibility that a man may one Creeps up through our careful day become 'a real somebody' and therefore be ready to deal behaviour. with Elsa, with woman, 'as/a (p.60) real somebody', treating her as At the centre there is a ten- truly a person, sion, emphasized in the title of If the woman is determined the volume, between control + 1k h,1 4 k| ..k. and energy. LU e a ree Ula /ic woman (p.51) and to shape her own journey (p.57), she is also keen that she and the man brother, lover, friend should 'make something new together' (p.57). The movement towards reconciliation is not confined to man/woman relationships. It is there also in other potential polarities: black/white, rich/ poor, Old World/New World, for example. Like gender, his- tory, race and class need not necessarily divide. Art can re- concile, can transcend; and the Between the noise and silence we move in careful steps each with too much past unsorted for brisker measure. But I am weary of this slow quadrille, for tigers leap behind my clouded brain spiders stretch their furry joints ready to trip me out of step. (p.49) Craig The association of quadrille and tigers hints also atthe poet's Jamaican base (quadrille as an emblem of Jamaican culture) and her involvement beyond Jamaica (literal tigers do not leap in Jamaica, though there may be one in the zoo these tigers, literary and universal, symbolize psychic energies). In every single human house 'there are two people living un- easily' (p.32): 'One says life is rational'. 'The other says, life is the crazy/whirling baton of some cosmic conductor'. The person, the artist, tries to re- concile 'These two, trying to make one song'. The recon- ciliation is not necessarily fu- sion; it may be achieved, as also in this volume, by move- ment between the tendencies. No one poem says it all. Ulti- mately the statement is in- complete, dynamic; is mov- ing, still. "Take and Hold", the final poem in the collection, ends: Alone is a devious word, wail it golden on a sax, throb it deep on a drum, lilt it in counterpoint on a silken piano. Together all the loneness in one finds harmony, balance in the others till alone becomes a song, a rhythm that moves and beats and knocks on a store of locked up life. Open the gate Legba Atibon Legba, ah open the gate for us. (pp. 75-76) Not for me, for 'us'. Christine Craig includes us all. She speaks (with quiet eloquence) not just for the woman, the free black woman, the struggling artist, but also for anyone who has ever recognized in his or her alone 'a store of locked up life'. MERVYN MORRIS is a senior lecturer in the Department of English, University of the West Indies, Mona. SALE OF BACK COPIES JAMAICA JOURNAL is offering at special prices, sets of back issues to complete your collection. Limited Quantities Available ! ORDER NOW The following numbers are available: Vol. 2 Nos 2,3,4 Vol. 9 Nos. 1 4 Vol. 3 Nos. 3,4, Vol. 10 Nos. 1 -4 Vol.4 Nos. 1,3,4 Vol. 11 Nos. 1 -4 Vol. 5 Nos. 1 -4 No. 42 (Vol. 12) Vol. 6 Nos. 1 -4 Nos. 43,44 (Vol. 13) Vol. 7 Nos. 1 -4 No 45 (Vol. 14) Vol. 8 Nos. 1 -4 No. 46 (Vol. 15) Vol. 16 (Nos 1 -4) Special prices, Single copies J$5 US$3 UK1.50 Purchase the entire set. Save 20% US$75 UK39 J$136 per set (Prices include handling and postage charges) Institute of Jamaica Publications Limited 2A Sulhermere Road. Kngpton 10. JarnaI.a Telephone: 92-94785/6 IbyEi 4a and the p by Enrd Sids A VISITOR'S GUIDE VALE ROYAL: THE TO PORT ROYAL HOUSE AND THE PEOPLE A guidA to histnrinal Port Royal, once called "the wickedest city in the world." US$4.00 An informal history of the residence of Prime Minister Seaga and his family. US$3.00 YOUR VACATION GUIDE TO JAMAICA A comprehensive visitor's guide to Jamaica. US$4.00 Available in hotels, book stores and gift shops in Jamaica or by airmail We make Insurance simple. Insurance Protection through the following types of polices: MOTOR FIRE & ALLIED PERILS ALL RISKS CONTRACTORS' ALL RISKS MACHINERY BREAKDOWN e PUBLIC LIABILITY *PRODUCTS LIABILITY CASH IN TRANSIT GOODS IN TRANSIT EMPLOYEES LIABILITY MORTGAGE INDEMNITY MARINE CARGO e FIDELITY GUARANTEE PERSONAL ACCIDENT e PLATE GLASS RETAILER INSURANCE POLICY EASY TO READ HOUSEHOLDER INSURANCE POLICY The Insurance Companj of the West Indies Ltd KINGSTON: 2 St. Lucia Avenue, Kingston 5, Tel: 92-69040-7 ICWI City Centre: 101 Harbour St., Kingston, Tel: 92-28415-8 MONTEGO BAY: 21 Market Street, Tel: 952-0301 MAY PEN: 2 Fernleigh Avenue, P.O. Box 421, Tel: 986-2598 WYNDHAM has xputthe 'NEW back into KINGSTON Twenty two years ago, the opening of this property signalled for Kingston the start of a new era in hotel hospitality. Now, history is reborn. From our guest rooms to our kitchen this hotel is brand new. We could spend hundreds of excited words here describing the 400 completely refurbished rooms and suites, our Presidential Club Floors, the three specialty restaurants and Sidewalk Cafe, our 4 Bars, our Nightclub, or our excellent meeting facilities and recreation areas. But what will excite and delight you most is the Wyndham style and service. Like nothing Kingston has ever experienced before! The Wyndham Hotel, New Kingston is destined to become one of the Caribbean's premier business and social hotels. When next your associates visit Kingston bring them to the Wyndham! You can rest assured we'll send them home content. Many happy returns! WYNDHAM HOTEL NEW KINGSTON 77 Knutsford Boulevard P.O. Box 112, Kingston 10, Jamaica, W.I. Tel: (809) 926-5430 PROUD TOBE A PART. mutual ESTABUSHED IN JAMAICA 1844 MUTUAL LIFE CENTRE 2 Oxford Road. Telephone: 92-69024 39 mutual understands -HELPING' IOBUILlD GREATER JAMMCAI ' SYNAGOGUE 'SHAANGARS SHALOM'- GATES OF PEACE 17 August 1985 was the 100th anniversary of the laying of the cornerstone of the first synagogue to be built at the corner of Duke and Charles Streets in Kingston, now the only synagogue in Jamaica. A special Jewish New Year's Eve service was held 15 September to commemorate this anniversary and to celebrate the first attempt, in November 1883, to unite the Sephardic and Ashkenazi congregations, representing Jews of Mediterranean and Middle European origins respective- ly. The synagogue 'Shaangare Shalom'- Gates of Peace -- was built through the combined efforts of some of the members of the two congregations. Complete amal- gamation took place 38 years later, in 1921. Designed by architects George Messiter and Charles Renwick and built by Charles P. Lazarus, the original structure was heavily influenced by the Byzantine style of architecture. The brick building 60 x 40' and 45' high, seated 700 people. Its outstanding features includ- ed the beautiful ceiling of smoothly finished wood and twin towers which housed self-supported cement con- crete stairs with handsome iron balustrades and rails. The gallery which ran around three sides of the building was supported by elegant iron columns with picturesque gilt capitals decorated with intricate designs of vines and breadfruit. The synagogue was partially destroyed by the 1907 earthquake and was rebuilt in 1911-12 in reinforced concrete. The restoration was carried out by Henriques Brothers who closely followed the lines of the original structure, though the facade was altered to a Spanish colonial style. The interior maintains the style of the original struc- ture as the roof, gallery and pillars were reused. The Echal (Ark) and Tebah (Reading Desk) are of polished mahogany and their platforms covered with blue Wilton carpets. In the tradition of Sephardic synagogues in the Caribbean and Central America and other destinations of the Marranos who fled Spanish oppression in the 15th and 16th centuries, the floor is covered with sand as a symbol of silence, a reminder of the secrecy with which they had to practice their faith during the Spanish occu- . nation. ( Marranos were Spanish and Portuguese Jews forcibly converted to Christianity but secretly adhering . to Judaism). On either side of the Ark, which contains 13 scrolls of the Law from former synagogues through- -, out Jamaica, two lights burn perpetually symbolising the unity here of the Ashkenazi and Sephardic congre- s" gations. '~~ir~U-"% ~o~"Y;"L_77w~~~~ r Glimpses of Jamaica's Natural History THE JAMAICAN POND TUR TLE This species of pond turtle, Pseudemys or Chrysemys terrapen, occurs only in Jamaica, although there are closely related species on other West Indian islands. Still fairly common in ponds and rivers in some areas of the island, these turtles may attain a shell length of nearly 13 inches. They feed on insects, crayfish, small fish, aquatic plants and are occasionally scavengers. There are at least two reports of our pond turtles snapping ticks off cattle standing in water. Their courtship is interesting to watch: '. .. the male faces the female and holds his tore legs straight out in front with the backs of his feet on each side of the female's head. With the backs of his long claws, he gives a vibratory motion or very rapid slapping on the side of the female's head, slapping more on the side to which she endeavours to turn. She apparently keeps her eyes shut and appears to be very much bored at his solicitude.' (The Herpetology of Jamaica by W.G. Lynn and Chapman Grant, 1940). Natural History Division Institute of Jamaica Contact Us | Permissions | Preferences | Technical Aspects | Statistics | Internal | Privacy Policy © 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.All rights reserved. Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs