Rastas celebrate Sabbath in Papine
Published:Tuesday | June 29, 2010 | 12:00 AM
Boom da boom boom! The rhythm of the beating drums rocked the crowd in the Papine square. An impressive number of people had gathered, looking on with a mix of curiosity and fascination. There was singing, dancing, chanting and flag-waving even though the thick white smoke circling the area blocked the view of many an onlooker.
It was a Rastafarian Sabbath celebration and the event, which is something of a weekly staple in the community, drew crowds from all over the country and even other parts of the world.
The men leading the celebration were elderly and dreadlocked and seemed well into what they were doing. Some were wearing badges and clutched wooden canes painted in red, black and green. The younger members of the group were waving flags and chanting something I couldn't understand. I was standing close to the centre of the activities, near a wholesale, looking at what was going on. There were many people around who seemed to be ignoring what was going on, but most were so caught up with the celebration, they stopped wherever they were just to take in the action.
As the drumming went on, I turned to a short, stocky fellow beside me and asked him if he had ever witnessed the Rastafarian celebrations before.
"Yeah man. Dis ah nuh nutt'n new. Dis ah gwaan from mi ah likkle yout, and mi ah near 50 now, so yuh mus' know," he said. The man told me his name was Sherwin and that he lived in not-too-far-away Irish Town.
I noticed a group standing on the opposite side of the road, taking pictures and pointing excitedly.
"Dem come from all over. Sometime yuh have di people dem who come from all Germany. One time, a Germany man leave a Germany money wid me. Mi still have it ah yard deh too," said Sherwin, proudly.
The drumming and singing were getting louder and the dancing, more animated. An elderly woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat, spectacles and sneakers walked close enough behind for me to hear her mumble her displeasure at the ensuing activities.
"Every week is di same ting. Why dem nuh carry it inside a building? After is not everybody want to take part," she said, her brows crumpled in anger. I asked her what had upset her.
"Is not really upset mi upset, yuh know. Is just dat I believe in the Bible and I don't believe what these people believe, so I don't know why I must be forced to see this when I just trying to do my little shopping," she said, making a point to turn her back to the centre of the celebration.
I was about to respond, but a dreadlocked man sitting on a bucket nearby cut me off. "Fire!" he yelled. I turned to face him and the woman I was speaking with, rolled her eyes and whispered something under her breath.
"When unnu have unnu church and ah use loud speaker, we haffi hear it though," the man said, getting up from the bucket.
He was a wiry fellow with a scar on his chin. The woman turned to face him now. "Excuse me?" she said.
"Excuse me? Excuse you!" was the man's comeback.
"Yuh should be thankful if unnu hear some of di word of God, for di whole of unnu surely need some guidance," the woman said, waving her finger at the man.
As you probably could have imagined, the woman's rant served only to further anger the dreadlocked fellow. It was a shouting match that resulted, threatening to attract more attention than the Sabbath celebration taking place only a few feet away. Even the visitors who had earlier been taking photographs of the flag-wavers were now snapping shots of the word-throwers. It soon became clear to me that neither the elderly woman nor the dreadlocked man even realised I was still standing there, so, quietly, I slipped away and out of the area.