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Missis Queen
published: Saturday | May 26, 2007
Hartley Neita
Did you see that stunning photograph of Miss Universe Jamaica 2007, Zahra Red-wood, on the front page of this newspaper last Monday? There she was in her Rastafarian glory, her locks ribbonned with the colours of the Jamaican flag and a photograph of reggae star, Bob Marley printed on her blouse.
Her hair was pulled back and turbaned. Her smile - ooh-la-la. Two small studs were in her ears and there was a slight, pale touch of mascara which highlighted her eyes and a delicate tint of lipstick on her full, beautiful lips.
Outstanding.
Do not be surprised next Monday night if the first Jamaican is not crowned Miss Universe. We have come close before. The time and the woman is now.
Forty years or so, ago, the Rastafari king visited us. A small man, he denied the image of what a king was - tall and strong; a King Arthur of the Knights of the Round Table; a Richard, the Lion-hearted.
If she wins the title in Mexico City, and my fingers are crossed, she will return a queen. What could happen at the Norman Manley International Airport?
Dream
I had a dream. It was May 30. Thousands and thousands of Rastafarians from all over Jamaica came in taxis, hired buses, trucks, and in their own cars - SUVs, if you please - to the airport. Robed in white, mainly, and wearing turbans on their heads and carrying staffs, they took over every public space in the terminal building and the car parks and the roads in the complex.
All night they chanted to the beat of drums. From time to time, they blew the abeng. They reasoned in groups. They danced, swirling round and round with joy.
And, of course, many spliffs were seen and smelt. Those smoking were chided.
"I an' I Queen does not smoke the ganja. Let's show the I respect!"
Vendors appeared with jerk chicken. By midnight the food was finished. Cellphones ordered more.
A special Air Jamaica flight landed atmid-morning. As it taxied on the runway and on to the tarmac, there was a hush. Then there was a still, small voice.
"The Majesty is here. Give thanks and praise. This is the day the Jah has made."
I remember well, the swarm of thousands of Rastafarians when they invaded the tarmac at the airport the morning that Emperor Haile Selassie came.
They said then it had been raining, and then a dove flew out of the clouds and the rain stopped as the Ethiopian airlines' plane came in sight. They captured the airport. Protocol was thrown aside then.
Assamba pushed aside
This time, turbaned Tourism Minister Assamba who came as the Prime Minister's representative was pushed aside. Deputy Commissioner Mark Shields was told to go and find "your murderer", he is not here. We are into peace and love.
The PNP's Stanley Redwood, wearing sandals, came with a family tree written on a scroll. Bruce Golding had a staff, which he said was a rod. It was taken from him.
"There is only one rod. Michael's. You are an imposter. Get behind me."
And there is only one queen, Her Majesty Zahra Redwood!
I woke. It was just a dream. But am I now a prophet?
published: Saturday | May 26, 2007
Hartley Neita
Did you see that stunning photograph of Miss Universe Jamaica 2007, Zahra Red-wood, on the front page of this newspaper last Monday? There she was in her Rastafarian glory, her locks ribbonned with the colours of the Jamaican flag and a photograph of reggae star, Bob Marley printed on her blouse.
Her hair was pulled back and turbaned. Her smile - ooh-la-la. Two small studs were in her ears and there was a slight, pale touch of mascara which highlighted her eyes and a delicate tint of lipstick on her full, beautiful lips.
Outstanding.
Do not be surprised next Monday night if the first Jamaican is not crowned Miss Universe. We have come close before. The time and the woman is now.
Forty years or so, ago, the Rastafari king visited us. A small man, he denied the image of what a king was - tall and strong; a King Arthur of the Knights of the Round Table; a Richard, the Lion-hearted.
If she wins the title in Mexico City, and my fingers are crossed, she will return a queen. What could happen at the Norman Manley International Airport?
Dream
I had a dream. It was May 30. Thousands and thousands of Rastafarians from all over Jamaica came in taxis, hired buses, trucks, and in their own cars - SUVs, if you please - to the airport. Robed in white, mainly, and wearing turbans on their heads and carrying staffs, they took over every public space in the terminal building and the car parks and the roads in the complex.
All night they chanted to the beat of drums. From time to time, they blew the abeng. They reasoned in groups. They danced, swirling round and round with joy.
And, of course, many spliffs were seen and smelt. Those smoking were chided.
"I an' I Queen does not smoke the ganja. Let's show the I respect!"
Vendors appeared with jerk chicken. By midnight the food was finished. Cellphones ordered more.
A special Air Jamaica flight landed atmid-morning. As it taxied on the runway and on to the tarmac, there was a hush. Then there was a still, small voice.
"The Majesty is here. Give thanks and praise. This is the day the Jah has made."
I remember well, the swarm of thousands of Rastafarians when they invaded the tarmac at the airport the morning that Emperor Haile Selassie came.
They said then it had been raining, and then a dove flew out of the clouds and the rain stopped as the Ethiopian airlines' plane came in sight. They captured the airport. Protocol was thrown aside then.
Assamba pushed aside
This time, turbaned Tourism Minister Assamba who came as the Prime Minister's representative was pushed aside. Deputy Commissioner Mark Shields was told to go and find "your murderer", he is not here. We are into peace and love.
The PNP's Stanley Redwood, wearing sandals, came with a family tree written on a scroll. Bruce Golding had a staff, which he said was a rod. It was taken from him.
"There is only one rod. Michael's. You are an imposter. Get behind me."
And there is only one queen, Her Majesty Zahra Redwood!
I woke. It was just a dream. But am I now a prophet?