White Man Patois

Jamaica Man, John Blackwood

The evening started off a bit rushed. Not a very Jamaican way to do things.

If you believe the marketing, the Caribbean nation seems perfectly tranquil and laidback. If you read the newspapers, you know that’s not true.

Jamaica recently recorded its 1,380th murder of the year, that’s about a murder for every 2,000 Jamaicans. In hopes of stemming the violence, the government announced it will boost its police force to over 12,000 by 2007.

But the evening at Theatre Passe Muraille wasn’t only about those things; it was a celebration of Afro-rich music, storytelling and dub poetry to start off the night. Jamaica Man is part of Stage³: word sound power, a co-production by Passe Muraille and Obsidian Theatre Company. Nine plays in rep and a late night music series, from October 4 – November 27, 2005.

On to the stage around 8 pm came three people for a round of dub poetry: an older gentlemen, a woman and a man both in their early to late 30s. Mid way a young girl no more than 12 came on for a song. The music wasn’t perfect – shaker was off more than once, the singing not great – but that’s irie. They offered up honest, sincere poetry, verse and commentary about their African motherland, and growing up Jamaican:

“We sing and dance because we are happy.”
“Our children will be free at last.”
“This is a unity calling, this is not a cell phone calling!”

After a few minutes listening to music during intermission, on came Jamaica Man, aka writer/performer John Blackwood. The staging was simple – sandy floor, a liquor cabinet with booze, two guitars, a seat painted the colours of Jamaica and a coat rack.

You’re taken aback at first by a white guy laying down the Patois – almost silly – but as the play continues you start to appreciate the guy’s unique situation: he was a white kid left to adapt in Jamaican boarding schools as his parents gallivanted around the island like kings.

Jamaica Man (JM) was growing up Jamaican, learning the history and culture. “What you see is white, but what you hear is black,” he says while trying to explain his life.

“This play is made up of the things I learned, the people I knew and the things that happened to me while I lived for many years among the warm and wonderful people of the beautiful island of Jamaica,” writes Blackwood in the show program. “My thanks for being so kind, and to my family for leading such interesting lives.”

In under 50 minutes, Blackwood manages to give us both a personal story and the cultural history of Jamaica, past and present. All mixed with JM playing tunes like ‘Pass De Koutchie’ by The Mighty Diamonds, ‘Dem Belly Full’ by Bob Marley and the Wailers, as well as two traditional Jamaican songs, ‘Sammy Dead-O’ and ‘Linstead Market’.

It all starts off with JM asking a tourist where he’s going. Turns out to be Kingston to catch his flight. He’s in a rush, but is assured by JM that the bus is coming… In the meantime, sit back and listen to stories about an island paradise, post-colonialism, sugarcane, Captain Morgan, phat joints, Rastas, and higglers. What’s a higgler? They’re the street vendors and marketers that form the backbone of Jamaica’s internal marketing system. To JM, the higglers (usually big fat ladies with happy voices) keep the tiny nation from imploding.

After many years, many drinks, and many joints, turns out it was the white man who screwed up Jamaica. “White people behaving badly” or “It’s a curse to be a white man” all makes sense while a white man is telling you the story in Patois.

Jamaica Man is on until Sun. Nov. 20 with various other performances including blood.claat and Territories at Theatre Passe Muraille (16 Ryerson Ave. – 1 block east of Bathurst above Queen St. W.); visit their web site for more info – www.passemuraille.on.ca

Photograph by Aviva Armour-Ostroff