‘I love New Orleans but
the old New Orleans. The 50s, the jazz era. Bohemian-chic when it was really
alive. That time is over; I wouldn’t go there now but it is still possible to
live those times; through books and music.’
A middle-aged
man wearing a knitted jumper and large round glasses told me this in a cool, split
level record shop on a quiet, tall-housed street in Amsterdam. He sold records
from days bygone; stepping into the shop was like stepping back in time. Disco, Bowie, Jazz, The Rolling Stones, Rock;
genres which have died or transformed into something else were available; in
their true, exquisite flavours.
{In another space I recall….‘This
is such a tune!...’ I declared and began to weave and bop my head to a
dub beat. Bad man riddim dat!
Bad boys inna London, Rude boys inna
England, Bad boys inna jherico, rude Boys inna England.
‘Not from your time, ha!’ I am told.
This tune
cannot be mine. Is this due to my
1990 birth? Which would make me in true fact a Wotsit eater at the time of the
tune’s hay day? A time in which my father would have been weaving and bopping
in a darkened room somewhere and a time in which I would be watching Postman
Pat and the Power Rangers?
I don’t believe
in time.
A my tune dat! Nah-nee-nee-woh-oh,
zig-ee-Nah-Nah-no-no-no.
Do you know it?}
‘These days people walk
around as if they are in a tunnel.’ He told me through a clicky, back of the throat, Dutch
accent. Laying back in a chair and arranging a new record, he pointed to the
painting on the wall of 1950s New Orleans.
‘They don’t look around
them, they don’t see the world.’
To some extend I agreed. As much as I find life beautiful
I also find it frustrating. I have a love and hate relationship with this era
we are living in. A time of over-sharing in cyberspace and being disconnected
from the people in our physical space. A time of money of greed. A time of
gentrification, of demolition of reconstruction. A time of luxury housing. Social mobility.
House prices. Generic thought processes. Media assigned ideas which become our
reality. Did I create that thought in my head or have I just read it and heard
it being said so many times that it has now become a part of my reality? A time
where the most powerful country in the world can go from being led by a black
man to an orange man. Is this my time?
I agree with
the Dutch philosopher in the record shop, a title he knows not he possesses.
People are sleeping. They like us sleepy. Yet, we do have the power, the power
is in our minds. We can go anywhere, see anything and learn anything though
reading.
I have just finished
reading Augustown by Kei Miller, a book which transports you to troubled
Jamaica, to opportunity and hope, to a failing system, to death, poverty, to
division, tension – to reality. It is one of the best books I have read, with
an ending which is; truly magical. I am half Jamaican but am yet to travel to
the land of my forefathers. Or am I? Through reading this book; the emotions I
felt, the pictures I saw, the roads I walked down – I was there. In my mind.
I declare this to be the power of reading.
The Dutch
Philosopher was right, you can go to 1950s New Orleans if you want to but you
need a good imagination and some well written verses.
Stephanie
