By Tanya Batson-Savage, Freelance Writer 
Louise Bennett.
IT WOULD take a lot of hot air to get in the way of national celebrations, even on a relatively small scale, of the Honourable Louise Bennett-Coverely. Alas, September's weather provided wind, more wind and lots of rain, if not the heat.
So rain came pouring from the skies on Sunday, September 5, which would have seen the concert, produced by the Jamaica Cultural Development Commission (JCDC), celebrating Miss Lou's 85th birthday. As a result, the event was postponed. Alas, with September being Jamaica's month for hurricanes, Ivan came crashing across our shores the following week. Then, though she never arrived here, Hurricane Jeanne also threatened
huffily.
Marcia Hextell, the executive
director of the JCDC, explained that the
commission thought it best to forego rescheduling the event a third time. She also noted that any rescheduling would also send the concert quite close to the next major event on the calendar, 'Heritage Fest'. Heritage Fest will take place at the Ranny Williams Entertainment Centre, which shares space with the Louise Bennett Garden Theatre. Both are on Hope Road in
St. Andrew.
Last year Jamaica received a generous helping of 'boonoonoonous' when Miss Lou visited the island and shared in Independence celebrations.
It was a trip that had many Jamaicans declaring "What a joyful news Miss Mattie, Miss Lou come back again." It has been over a decade since Miss Lou and her late husband, Eric Coverly, migrated to Canada, but distance has done nothing to sever the ties that bind.
As such, all di blow Ivan da blow 'im couldn' drop a blow like she. With skill more powerful than any hurricane, Miss Lou helped to clear a new path for the acceptance of Jamaican language and the culture it bears. The element of her poetry Miss Lou is most often given credit for is her use of Jamaican Creole at a time when we wished to speak English better than the English, when elocution was a sign of a good
education. The value of her role in the National Pantomime, which was an important tool in crafting a Jamaican identity, may not be as celebrated, but it is surely significant.
Every icon deserves her day and, two years ago, Miss Lou was given her own. Though not a public holiday,
September 7 was earmarked as the day to celebrate Miss Lou, her work and her
significance. The date, also her
birthday, follows close enough on the Independence festival celebrations, even though separate from them.
When one is in the throes of hilarity produced by the ironic wit employed, the true value of the work can get momentarily lost in the fog of enjoyment. Humour is a great tool for dismissing important things.
When taken in full perspective, however, the impact of Miss Lou's poems and stories can clearly be seen. Her words, whether used in prose or poetry, have all the levelling power of a hurricane. She uprooted dead metaphors and allowed us to breathe new life into our culture.
OUR VOICE
When one deems Miss Lou the mother of Jamaican culture, it would be foolish to think that this means she gave birth to it. Her mothering instincts came though her ability to publicly declare her love for it, though it was being declared a 'runny-nose, ill-mannered, jing bang pickney'. Through her work it became more acceptable for us to love ourselves. Miss Lou did not give us our voice. More importantly, she helped us appreciate and groom it.
While her role in helping to legitimise Jamaican Creole is quite significant, there was also the element of record. Her work contains commentary of many actual events in Jamaica's
history, providing a sociological map of Jamaica as our identity as a nation coalesced. So through her work there are stories of when women first joined the police force, tales of rising prices, Independence and so much more.
Jamaica's folk culture has also found a fertile bed in her works, whether they are the antics of Anansi, tales of rolling calf sightings, or so much more. Indeed, Miss Lou is quite lucky that her inciting poetry was not written today, as her celebration of the power of the 'half-a-brick', 'broken bottles' and 'coocoomacca stick', known terrorist weapons, could easily land her in hot water.
Maybe the most notable part of Miss Lou's state as an icon is that she has passed on her baton to voices displaying a virility more potent that that induced by Viagra, but showing their own style and sensibility while echoing her parentage.
SUCCESSORS
As Mervyn Morris points out in the article Miss Lou: Some Heirs and Successors, Joan Andrea Hutchinson and Amina Blackwood-Meeks are clear successors. Their voices and their constant recording of Jamaica, Jamaicans and our issues allow us to give Miss Lou's voice a rest, so she can just smile a while and see what has been reaped.
For years, countless Jamaican children, when asked to recite a poem, rather than attempting to wax poetic about daffodils and the like, proudly declared "'Roas' Turkey' by Luweeeze Bennett" (followed, of course, by a distinct clearing of the throat).
But now when one visits the JCDC Speech Festival, which is a great marker for the state of performance in the nation, the statement 'By Joan Andrea Hutchinson' is now far more prevalent.
Miss Lou celebrated our
alienated right to record our own history, through our own eyes and in our own voice. It is a right which Amina Blackwood-Meeks explores when she gives Jing Bang's version of globalisation, or allows Miss Lady to tell of the tragi-comic effects of tourism.
It was a burden that had been taken up by deejays who also helped to chronicle Jamaican and even international happenings.
Indeed, if one should search the annals of the music, one can come across songs which tell about 'Duppy Shirley', the 'Exterminator Bus' (once a very popular mode of transportation for adolescents on the Duhaney Park bus route) and much more.
In trying to go pop, today's lyricists have shirked that element of the dancehall genre, going for 'shakeability' more than topicality.
'TALKIN BAD'
More tragically, despite the lessons of Miss Lou, those in the Caribbean still do not do enough to tell our own stories. And as anyone can hear by the sound of a tortured accent when faced by a camera, many Jamaicans are still ashamed of out mode of speech. 'Talkin bad' has not been given a green card into the land of the acceptable. It is still only using a visitor's visa.
However, the torch has been lit, the past illuminated and some have elected to carry on the burden.
So, though Ivan forced us to defer our celebrations for a year, her words will continue to do their work and she will remain in her hearts.
