I GUESS I may be getting just a teeny-weeny bit old, because I can remember when it was considered
rude to whistle in front of adults, the biggest bad words pickney used to cuss were ‘blouse and skirt’,'rahtid’ and ‘blow-wow’; and slackness was talking big bwoy stories.
I am probably not so young anymore, I guess, because I can remember when people used to charter JOS bus to go to outing at Gunboat beach. And the beach dem was clean! And bad boys were the ones riding skate, and playing marbles and racing board horse in the gutter water after rain.
I remember when children were afraid of Johnkunnu - now even police fraid a pickney, ’cause pickney a shotta!
Call me archaic, but I remember when school children never had such a wide range of colorfully creative chemical concoctions and toxic adventures to choose from such as sweets and snacks. For example, I saw one recently marked cheese tricks and when you read the fine print carefully, you realized that the ingredients did not include any cheese - so-so tricks!
But I suppose it must be old age, because I also remember that children used to eat jackfruit, juneplum, naseberry, guinep, hogplum and tinkin toe; we used to relish treats like bustamante-backbone, drops, gizzada, toto, cut-cake and grater-cake. MEN USED TO DANCE WITH WOMEN after asking if they could have this dance!!
I must be clearly approaching dinosaur status, because I can vividly recall a period when independence time meant street dance on every corner, and we never had to import carnival to have revelling in the streets, and float parades were magnificent. I must have come from them dark ages, but I remember when man used to go party to dance with woman, not to “par wid man”, and women never had to walk naked to get attention.
But I am not quite ready for the rocking chair and adult diapers just yet. No papa! Still,
I remember when Rasta was a lifestyle. Now dreadlocks is a hairstyle. I remember when a turban-and-robe-wearing Rastafarian of the boboshanti order was a reserved and holy man who lived in the hills and rejected expressions of vanity and weapons of destruction. But times change fast, and now-a-days wrap head man toting gun. And turban clad Rastaman whining up on girls and sipping alcohol beverages in night club.
Trust me I am not an old prude, but I remember when watching dancing on TV meant looking at things like ‘Where it’s at!’ Now watching a ‘live video’ of a session means seeing the video camera slither and slide like an unruly invisible phallus,
I am not exactly ancient yet, (and I am not some uptown snob), but if my memory serves me right, poverty doesn’t mean the absence of dignity
I remember when ghetto life never meant dirty living. I remember when, no matter how things rough, a big hard black man would be too proud to stand up on the roadside begging. I remember when young boys didn’t aspire to be a ‘thug’ and a ‘gangster. LIFE HAD VALUE.
OK, ah think I am beginning to see one or two lonely grey hairs. But still, it can’t be so long ago; because I lucidly remember a time when children were safe, and elders were respected. I remember a time when, for everyman, there was something that was held sacred; and life had value. No, is not any hallucination, ’cause I remember it plain, plain...
Do you remember ‘Old Time Jamaica’? Or you too young? Do you remember too?
While you're visiting...stop by and ✿ LIKE ✿ pagehttps://www.facebook.com/Rootscutturebysimonemyrie
rude to whistle in front of adults, the biggest bad words pickney used to cuss were ‘blouse and skirt’,'rahtid’ and ‘blow-wow’; and slackness was talking big bwoy stories.
I am probably not so young anymore, I guess, because I can remember when people used to charter JOS bus to go to outing at Gunboat beach. And the beach dem was clean! And bad boys were the ones riding skate, and playing marbles and racing board horse in the gutter water after rain.
I remember when children were afraid of Johnkunnu - now even police fraid a pickney, ’cause pickney a shotta!
Call me archaic, but I remember when school children never had such a wide range of colorfully creative chemical concoctions and toxic adventures to choose from such as sweets and snacks. For example, I saw one recently marked cheese tricks and when you read the fine print carefully, you realized that the ingredients did not include any cheese - so-so tricks!
But I suppose it must be old age, because I also remember that children used to eat jackfruit, juneplum, naseberry, guinep, hogplum and tinkin toe; we used to relish treats like bustamante-backbone, drops, gizzada, toto, cut-cake and grater-cake. MEN USED TO DANCE WITH WOMEN after asking if they could have this dance!!
I must be clearly approaching dinosaur status, because I can vividly recall a period when independence time meant street dance on every corner, and we never had to import carnival to have revelling in the streets, and float parades were magnificent. I must have come from them dark ages, but I remember when man used to go party to dance with woman, not to “par wid man”, and women never had to walk naked to get attention.
But I am not quite ready for the rocking chair and adult diapers just yet. No papa! Still,
I remember when Rasta was a lifestyle. Now dreadlocks is a hairstyle. I remember when a turban-and-robe-wearing Rastafarian of the boboshanti order was a reserved and holy man who lived in the hills and rejected expressions of vanity and weapons of destruction. But times change fast, and now-a-days wrap head man toting gun. And turban clad Rastaman whining up on girls and sipping alcohol beverages in night club.
Trust me I am not an old prude, but I remember when watching dancing on TV meant looking at things like ‘Where it’s at!’ Now watching a ‘live video’ of a session means seeing the video camera slither and slide like an unruly invisible phallus,
I am not exactly ancient yet, (and I am not some uptown snob), but if my memory serves me right, poverty doesn’t mean the absence of dignity
I remember when ghetto life never meant dirty living. I remember when, no matter how things rough, a big hard black man would be too proud to stand up on the roadside begging. I remember when young boys didn’t aspire to be a ‘thug’ and a ‘gangster. LIFE HAD VALUE.
OK, ah think I am beginning to see one or two lonely grey hairs. But still, it can’t be so long ago; because I lucidly remember a time when children were safe, and elders were respected. I remember a time when, for everyman, there was something that was held sacred; and life had value. No, is not any hallucination, ’cause I remember it plain, plain...
Do you remember ‘Old Time Jamaica’? Or you too young? Do you remember too?
While you're visiting...stop by and ✿ LIKE ✿ pagehttps://www.facebook.com/Rootscutturebysimonemyrie
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