My memories of early adolescence take me back to a place that seems almost like another world. In that place, my weekends are spent in a little church in a place called Waterhouse in Kingston, Jamaica, where every Saturday, Wednesday and Sunday, I took my place among the other youngsters as the adults made fervent cries to heaven.
Most of the time the church would be filled with the rhythmic strum of guitars and lively choruses as we clapped and danced in what the pastor called "a joyful noise unto the Lord." But when silence fell, the sounds of gunshots would waft through the windows, a few adults would pull their little ones closer if the booming rounds sounded close, but for the most part we carried on with worship as usual - this was Waterhouse, gunplay was anything but unusual.
Waterhouse was a notoriously dangerous section of Kingston - which itself is deemed one of the most dangerous cities in the world. According to BBC News online, in 2001 there were more than 1,100 people murdered in Jamaica, an island with a population of 2.5 million, and most of these murders occurred in Kingston. It is not uncommon to see troops in armored vehicles patrolling the streets during election time, as party leaders publicly call for peace but secretly encourage violence against those in opposing parties. And the violence shows no sign of abating.
Anyone reading or watching stories on the news about poverty and violence in Jamaica might conjure up images of people living in constant fear for their lives, of children starving and of dirty, down-trodden people. But this couldn't be any further from reality.
The actions of some renegade citizens and corrupt leaders have placed Jamaica on the world stage as a troubled nation sinking into a black hole of civil unrest. But anyone who looks at the little nation with an eye for more than a hedonistic vacation or scorn of poverty will see something else in its foundations.
A stagnant economy has had the nation in its grips since the early '90s, forcing many below the poverty line and into violence, but there has been no ebb in the flow of creativity that emanates from the island.
Inventive, feel-good rhythms of the Dancehall often drown out the explosions of guns as artists make lyrical pleas to the "shottas" to put down their guns and join in the dancing. It's a wonder that even the gunmen find time to do anything besides participate in the latest dances. Doing dance moves to match the lyrics, participants turn the most mundane activities into a form of dance that would look ridiculous everywhere else but look brilliant on the dance floor.
The club scene that the average American might be used to is in no way comparable to the Dancehall. Jamaicans ascribe an almost religious importance to music; it is a medium of social commentary, with artists singing about everything from corrupt politicians, to AIDS and relationships. The lyrics and the dancing are more than entertainment, they are an encapsulation of a culture that refuses to be held down by circumstances that have stunted the spirit of so many other struggling countries.
Second only to a strong sense of culture is the Jamaican sense of pride; a personal pride that is evident in the way even the poorest people are dressed in crisp designer outfits, and a national pride that has even the children of emigrants proudly displaying the Jamaican colors.
Even with the continuing violence that claims the lives of thousands of Jamaicans yearly, those affected most are filled with a sense of community that is not mirrored by their leaders and those who try to use fear to control the population.
It will be a great day when good leadership quells the mostly politically motivated violence that has raged for decades, and enable the creativity and culture of this island nation to truly shine.
Photo: Courtesy of Matthew Messina, from the RMBERS' Instagram page
