Lindsay Oliver Donald Roots Reggae Photographer: October 2012

I met Benjamin Zephaniah some 20 years ago when I was at Caribbean Times and have not seen him since. I did take some shots of him but those are with Caribbean Times.

CHRISTMAS HAS BEEN SHOT - DR. BENJAMIN ZEPHANIAH
Christmas has been shot away this year,
There are too many choppers chopping up the sky
Too many bullets in the air for good tidings,
There will be no Christ and no mass
And darkness has fallen upon the land.
No one shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord
Or serve the Lord with gladness,
No one shall come before his presence with singing,
And Palestinian Christians who want to declare
The name of the Lord in Jerusalem
Or glorify the boy in Bethlehem
Have been told to piss off to Jordan,
Syria or Iraq.

All the saints have been told
To wait for the resumption of peace talks
And the angels of the Lord have been told
To wait until the Americans are ready
Because Zion means something else now,
And yes it was written that the truth shall flow
From the mouths of babe and suckling,
But babes and sucklings beware
The soldiers have orders to kill,
And the spirit of King Herod is alive.
They're not doing Christmas this year,
It has been shot away'And anyway
Christ is no messiah,' said the soldier
'This is our Promised Land. '

What we see over Bethlehem this year
Is a spineless, skeleton of a Christmas,
A Christmas that has been occupied, strangled
And driven to tears, crying tear gas and burning,
It's a Christmas that has no songs or sermons
Except the song of the bomber;
As loud as dying
As quiet as death.
Welcome to the birthplace of his holiness
Welcome to the humiliation of the natives,
Here even flowers are shot down
If they fly the local flag,
You will not hear the bells of Christmas
And you will not hear the women sing.
'And let me tell you something else,'
said the soldier
'No virgin gave birth here - we wouldn't allow it.'

Sorry gentiles
It looks like it's gonna be a cold Christmas,
Ain't no spirit of the Lord moving over the manger
Just a nuclear power
Flying in from Tel Aviv via Washington DC.
The power of the almighty has come for sure
To suck Christmas dry
And to blow Christmas away.
There will be no mercy
And no rejoicing
And no worshipping any little Black Palestinian boy,
And no crosses
And no three wise women or men
And no Arab shepherds,
Because Christmas has been done in
Christmas is coughing and choking
Christmas has been hit by bullets from the west,
So if you want to do Christmas this year
Take a bible,
Sit indoors,
And do your own thing,
Just don't do it in Bethlehem.

__________________________++

Millions of people know Benjamin Zephania's voice. The popular Rasta poet has given readings around the world, from Palestine to Argentina, as well as throughout the UK. Benjamin Obadiah Iqbal Zephaniah was born in Birmingham and grew up in Jamaica and in Handsworth. In 1989 he was nominated for Oxford Professor of Poetry. After a journey to Palestine, Zephaniah wrote a pamphlet entitled Rasta Time in Palestine (1990).

We present to you this evening Zephaniah's poem, "Christmas has been shot" which is included in his poetry collection, entitled "Too Black, Too Strong." (Too Black, Too Strong. Newcastle, Bloodaxe, 2001.) Zephaniah writes in his foreword to the collection: "the world is staying silent as the Palestinians are being annihilated" later he says: "I feel a sense of urgency here is a poet who won't stay silent." He explains the collection's title thus:

"When I say 'black' it means more than skin colour, I include Romany, Iraqi, Indians, Kurds, Palestinians, all those that are treated Black by the united white states. My 'strong' is the strength that we get when we stand up and get counted...When I say 'Too Black, Too Strong', I mean unity is strength, I mean 'true' free speech, I mean no justice, no peace."

When I was about 18 I sent Bob Marley a bunch of my poems. He wrote me a letter back - which I never kept - saying: 'Nice work, keep it up, you're saying something positive.' I met him later. I almost wanted him to write it again. ~ Benjamin Zephaniah

FOR BOB MARLEY

JOHN AGARD

FOR BOB MARLEY

Dreadlocks gone

from I an I crown of glory
and what to be got to be

yet nobody believe Marley dying
no woman no cry crying
out from the sound system of a heart
Who Jah bless no man curse
bu’ the cancer getting worse

cutting off of locks

a necessary condition
for treating the tumour of the brain
Him lion mane shorn like a lamb
Him born again
walking through the valley of the shadow of

pain

yet nobody believe Marley dying

nobody believe the reggae rainbow
flying home to Zion
without him dreadlocked halo

We all know
Babylon is one
to cut off Rasta hair
and throw Rasta in prison

But this time doctor say

for treatment to work
dreadlocks must go
strange the ways of Babylon
stranger still the ways of Jah

yet nobody believe Marley dying

dying of cancer in Miami

He who touch no pork

no junk food whether in London or New York
believed only in the natural
I-tal vital
ate of fresh herbs of the field
as laid down by the Good Book
on tours always taking his own cook
He left bodyguards to politicians
touching no nicotine
partaking only of the holy weed
which the press
say was taken to excess
but which Marley I’m sure
would say is the key to the inner door
the holy herb
filling his mind with the holy word
and the flight of doves
at peace in the shadow of Solomon
Got to have kaya

Strange the ways of Babylon

Now herbless and locksless
this child of Jah in the wilderness
of a malignant growth
yet nobody believe Marley dying
dying of cancer in Miami
it can’t be it can’t be
shout it out from Trenchtown to Zimbabwe
shake the cornerstone of the Cedars of Lebanon
it can’t be no not Marley

But in the grounation of a mother grief

one woman hold her head and cry
one woman Cedella Booker mother of Bob
hear her earthwise heart whisper
one bright morning when my work is over
and deep down she know the time come
cause Jah giveth and Jah taketh
and holding her son locksless head
she reads his favourite psalm
to help him home

   ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
     He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
     He leadeth me beside the still waters…’

And from the logwood burning love
of her womanheart
black womanhurt inward yearning
Rita Marley I-rie queen
watches the fiery red god and green
Drifting to galaxies
beyond West Kingston
Fly away home to Zion

but thoughts of distant planets

don’t make her forget
the sound of bullets
the violence in the streets
the attempts on Marley life
by shootdown hit-and-run
Trenchtown thug politics
and caressing the star of his head
she misses them locks
natty dread natty dread
that often touched her as they lay loving
and to herself she make a vow
not to send Bob
locksless to his Zion

to the shorn lamb

she shall return him lion mane
she shall see that in his casket
his face is draped
with rays of sun
him antennae of salvation
picking up positive vibration
in his casket
I and I crown of locks
the Bible in one hand
his guitar in the other
like gifts from an ancient Egyptian queen
sending her loved on home to Ra
sending her loved on home to Jah

Everything going to be allright

    everything going to be allright
    no woman no cry
    Marley don’t need death
    to make a exodus to history
    Marley don’t need politician
    to deem him honourable
    Marley would hate a tearful elegy

so let this poem be a spliff

    and from the heart of Harlem let a riff
    of tribute curl skyward
    Let Stevie Wonder in his rainbow darkness
    masterblast your song of praise
    to the secret ears of plants
    from the ground of Zimbabwe
    let freedom song resound
    and see the children dance
    O see the children dance
    forget your sorrow and dance
    Let the nyabingi drums chant
    a celebration of positive vibration
    Let Cedella take a gospel song
    and with a mother tender care
    nurse it to a breath of reggae
    Let the I-threes incense the sky
    with riddims of blessings
    Little darling please don’t shed no tears

and see the children dance

    forget your trouble and dance

cause today is a day beyond mouring
today the sun is a mane of flame
raining a plea to mankind

    one love
    one heart

Listen those of you who have ears to hear

Listen those of you who have ears to hear.

EXCLUSIVE LIMITED BOB MARLEY EDITION PHOTOGRAPHS AVAILABLE

http://poalaof.wordpress.com/2012/10/08/exclusive-limited-edition-bob-marley-photographs/

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Sunday, October 7, 2012

SOMETHING IS IN THE AIR

This is a rare colour portrait I took in 1984 of a young Ziggy Marley one cold night in Mandeville, Jamaica, when he played at a concert with his Grandmother, the late Ms Cedella Marley.

http://poalaof.wordpress.com/2012/10/07/something-is-in-the-air/