Jamaican folk tales in New York

Laura Tanna, Contributor

We're at Cipriani Downtown, West Broadway and Broome Street, sitting outdoors since the October weather is still mild, though it's 10 p.m. We watch the arrival of skinny women in slacks, furry, trimmed tops, and high, high heels. Then two men arrive, press a button and, slowly, an iron stairway descends. A red ,velvet cord on two brass posts is placed before the sidewalk entrance and, voilà, in an hour the private-members club upstairs will open. Our introduction to nightlife in Soho on the border of Tribeca.

Tribeca Park Deli next morning sells delicious French croissants, better than any we tasted in Quebec, but then New York, New York has just about everything, except Mama who died three years ago. Staying near the old neighbourhood opens an aching wound. When we pass St Vincent's Hospital where she died, the driver tells me the hospital is closed, had to provide unpaid services to too many in lower Manhattan and couldn't afford to stay open. Where do people now get medical care? Where are all those employees now?

Last year, it was as if we were tourists in somewhere new. The recession had hit so hard that five-star hotels were affordable. I remember lying in a bubble bath on a top floor at the Mandarin Oriental with a view of midtown Manhattan spreading beneath me. Now travel must have picked up for there are no such bargains this October. Instead, we're still paying a pretty penny at the Hilton Garden Inn Tribeca, Canal St and West Broadway, near the Holland Tunnel. The rooms and service are fine and most of the guests are European tourists.

What's more, it is near The Capitale, a Roman Classic landmark built by one of America's most prestigious architects, Stanford White, who created it in 1895 as the Bowery Savings Bank. Now its Corinthian columns, decorated 65-foot-high ceiling, Venetian glass skylight and marble mosaic floors play host to magical events like the 29th Annual Hummingbird Gala and Benefit where the American Friends of Jamaica (AFJ) are honouring Jamaican born world champion and Olympic star Sanya Richards Ross.

She uses her success as an international athlete to educate youth, participating in the USA Track and Field Win With Integrity Program. And she supports philanthropic ventures including 'The Fun 4 Kidz - Sanya Richards Fast Track Program' here in Jamaica. She and her husband, who plays football for the New York Giants, are gracious to all supporting this event to raise money for health, education and development in Jamaica, and she doesn't mind sharing the limelight with Shaggy, who absolutely rocks the ballroom. He is incredible! With the 30th anniversary coming up next year, he's going to be a hard act to follow but it should be quite something. As a member of the board of the AFJ, it means a lot to me that the organisation has raised more than US$11.5 million for Jamaica.

Even more, the AFJ keeps reaching out to those in the diaspora who love their homeland. I was more than surprised, but deeply honoured, when they asked me to give a reading at the Jamaican Consulate in New York City and sign copies of my Jamaican Folk Tales and Oral Histories book, to coincide with the sale of the material now on two CDs and a DVD to benefit the AFJ and the storytellers. I spoke of the Hon. Louise Bennett Coverley and Ranny Williams, but I reminded the audience of mainly Jamaicans - though members of the St George's Society of New York were in attendance with several of the AFJ retired American Ambassadors - that I'd done a series of articles in The Gleaner on what's good in Jamaica, many featuring those less well known.

One of the stories was about David McLaughlin, who once owned a sawmill in Water Works, Westmoreland, a village devastated by floods. He lost everything. Water Works is just below Abeokuta where the last of the Naggo people lived. It was 1973/74 that I spoke with descendants of Nigerian ancestors. When McLaughlin, died I wrote a piece praising his understanding of the importance of retaining ancestral knowledge, as he and Rachel Fenton had done in their community. His daughter wrote to me that she'd given the article to their pastor, thinking he would read an excerpt, but instead read the entire article to the congregation at the funeral service. Afterwards, a neighbour came up and said:

"If I'd known your father was such an important man, I would have come to visit more often!" Though it brings a smile, I'm afraid this indicates the lack of respect too many people used to have towards Jamaica's African retentions. My research goes back almost four decades and fortunately much has changed, which is why this material is still highly regarded.

Two people in Jamaica became crucial aids to my research and eventually became lifelong friends. The first was 75-year-old Adina Henry, a jippi jappa worker and storyteller living in August Town and the other Malcolm Armstrong, a 31-year-old rastafarian fisherman from Majesty Pen in South West St Andrew. Through Mali, I visited the second-oldest Jewish cemetery in the Western Hemisphere down by the dungle, collected Anansi stories, duppy stories, Big Boy stories, prophesies of Marcus Garvey and participated in the Hosay Festival, but, more than anything over the years, I learned what it is to be poor and black in the most violent and poverty-stricken garrison remaining in Jamaica today.

Miss Adina I also loved for many reasons, among them her strong values expressed in her narratives. Rather than read from the book, I played her "Timorimo" narrative and spoke of how the monstrous bird was a metaphor for the stepmother's monstrous attitude towards her husband's 'outside' child. The audience saw how a traditional performer tackles one of society's problems. How do you deal with children born outside the marriage or home? Miss Adina teaches you must love the next woman's child as you love your own.

There is a whole genre of non-trickster oral narratives in Jamaica which are still too little known. In 'Preeny', she juxtaposes the imagery of a baboon with that of the husband to delve into incest, a serious problem in Jamaica still. She uses traditional narrative to show that mothers must be vigilant in the protection of their children. In John-Do-Good we encounter a Myalman, who practices a curative form of magic. In Jamaica, we don't have the kind of heroic narrative found in Africa with great warriors or great kings.

Instead we have the hunter/hero with knowledge of magic, magic cures, close rapport with a spiritual helper - often his mother - who travels in a forest, braves dangers and with the aid of hunting dogs, magical chants, objects like exploding limes, eggs, arrows etc. he performs altruistic acts. The fact that John is able to counteract the poison of the slavemaster's wife, that every blow intended for him is transferred to the slavemaster's wife, all of these indicate his power for turning away evil. And, in the end, the slavemaster and wife realise the error of what they've done.

Growing up with this kind of education, out of all of Miss Adina's children, grandchildren and great randchildren, only one ever fell afoul of the law. The rest are people you cherish, and even the one might still find his way. In fact, one of her grandsons, Ian Lewis, who gained a university degree, drove over from Georgetown University to share this evening of honouring traditional Jamaican culture. The response from those in the audience was truly impressive.