Amina Blackwood-MeeksMy dear Brother and Friend, Tony Rebel
THE ANCIENT City of Timbuktu is legendary. We have been trained to speak of it disparagingly. We have learned to regard and accept the word, the place, the people, as synonymous with remoteness, as too far away to be useful, as having been reduced to desolation and poverty. We speak little of, and acknowledge even less, its historical significance as a wealthy and critical trade centre, a focus of culture and learning.
Until we recover the volumes of Timbuktu, there are the Tony Rebels amongst us. This Tony Rebel, who has been calling us for eight years to salute the rebels who demand that we acknowledge and recover our Timbuktu, reconnect with our great and glorious past and build on it.
Rebel Salute
Rebel Salute is more than just great entertainment. It goes beyond the showcasing of the levels of excellence to which our singers and musicians strive and achieve. Rebel Salute 2001 was a study of a nation in search of itself. First there was the audience. Picture this: any number of dreadlocked males lovingly sharing the night with women in brunette or black and, yes, blond wigs. Men militantly dressed in khaki or battle fatigues or denims with women in barely-there outfits. All sharing the same ground with men and women in their finest traditional African clothing, walking the Kaiser Sports ground as if these were the swaddling clothes in which they had been delivered.
And then there was what was happening on stage. There was not one artist, including the bald head performers, who did not begin with some kind of invocation to the Spirit, a supplication for intervention to bless not just his or her individual presentation but that of the other performers as well. There was this welcome and uplifting ritual of thanksgiving for their individual and collective talent and for the opportunity to share. It was more like a ministering, a determination to demonstrate that we are a people who are proud of the fact that when it comes to "doing things right" we wrote the book.
And then there was the sea of red, gold and green banners which united the audience, however they were dressed or not dressed, saluting the performers as they sang for righteousness and principles in the society, for justice, for intolerance against the immorality and corruption and all the other detours away from self which have brought us to a place of poverty and desolation. Like Timbuktu. And agreeing with the performers for the restoration of the Timbuktu which they represented.
Not a few times during the show I wondered where would this nation be without the spiritual vigilance, the indomitable pride, the sense of history and purpose of the Rastaman, the Blackheart Man as its conscience? How many of us have not had at least one experience of an inability to explain the geographical location of Jamaica but have found instant friendship and succour if we have needed it, because we have come from the land of the Blackheart Man and we are recognised by the stamp which he has placed upon the world? Few people in faraway places have asked us about the names and character of our wealthiest businessmen or brightest politicians, although, indeed they might have granted them favours precisely because they are children of the Blackheart Man.
How very appropriate, then, that it was the Blackheart Man himself, Bunny Wailer, who at Rebel Salute 2001 chastised the proponents of "duncehall", as another friend has come to call it, for desecrating their heritage not just in the form and content of the present dance hall but in its reproduction and representation on cable channels. It became his job as "elder" to remind us that before we can be anything we have to be educated about who we are; that we cannot divorce ourselves from the knowledge, struggles, experience and values of those who came before and expect to make progress. We have to learn again how to be people of substance and quality in order to manifest success. We cannot worship at the shrine of money and expect to sustain economic growth. That which does not sustain the soul itself shall pass.
And for sustainability we salute Israel Vibration. During their performance one female patron enquired of anyone she thought would know whether they were always "like that", referring to their polio and the fact that they performed on crutches. When she received an affirmative answer she responded "den what excuse any of us have for not going after a goal?"
Strength
For this is what Rebel Salute is about, proof that Timbuktu is accessible. It is an ever present and unmistakable part of who we are. Just like the Blackheart Man. Rebel Salute 2001 was a reminder that if we pick up the banner, in time we will shed the wigs and whatever else anchors the veils on our eyes, and keeps us separated from community: that place of co-operation and oneness and caring, that singular objective, the singing of the same song which gives us the strength to refuse to bow in spite of Armageddon and deny "the hypocrites" of the chance to say "that we can't unite".
This is why I believe so many of the uniformed men and women on duty so obviously enjoyed being there and why the police allowed this affirmation of aspirations to show until three minutes to nine in the morning.
Maybe you should rename the Sports Kaiser complex, Tim-buktu. It is there for all those who want to reach. And for those who don't, we do it for them as well, anyway.
With gratitude and nuff respex. And continued good wishes for honour and prosperity.
Amina.
Amina Blackwood-Meeks is a communications specialist.
