The Quiet DJ

The people who gathered in the pub were unaware of the man amongst them who once upon a time captured the attention of first generation individuals lost in transition. His music had brought to them at that time, the far distant sentiment of what home had been.

The cultural and traditional influence on their live’s now, almost non existent. Swept away by the new wave of the present generation that lacked respect or knowledge of what it felt like to be abandoned in the country many had now made over 50 years their home, he represented that time when opportunities were suspended in illusional belief’s of doing better by sacrifice.

Far away from home and far away from the tradition and culture of the world they had left behind,he had without realizing it, brought a new found hope and joyous spirit to the lives of many unable to settle for the torment of the world they had arrived in.

But tonight as the night drew on,the music became the constant beat to the noise of the crowd as people moved in and out of each other, passing through time as night went into day. Watching couples meeting maybe for the first time as they made their way towards the exit spent of all energy from the dancing and the music,for me,time seemed to stand still.

But Ah, the music... As i watched him, i was thrown back in time when music was all that mattered to me. The time warp i found myself in reflected my hero’s who had died, passed on..old age becoming their friend then, their enemy. Tarzan, Robbie, Mr.Anderson, Lloydy , Sebastian.. the men that had grown me without understanding their child amongst them was one they never knew.

I was teethed on the Calypso, Ska, Blue beat and then Reggae they played.

My father’s who in the night, became my mentor’s. Ingrained into my soul the soggy memories of life loved and lived..for the music.

Back then, as a 14 year old, i should not have been out let alone in the Club or even, at any of the Blue’s dances that started at 8pm and finished at 4..am. but back then, we would wait feverishly for parents to fall asleep before sneaking out the door to dance the night away only to be greeted at dawn by the tiredness of the morning and the fear of getting caught while sneaking back in. The Club.

A basement that you accessed by way of twisted steep step’s which became the hub of St.Paul’s in an age when Caribbean music was shoved away in ally way’s and back street’s and where forbidden encounter’s were accepted within it’s boundaries. The renowned basement that played host to some of the soon to be legend’s of the next decade’s was a somewhere that felt like home.

By day, it was an ordinary building where good girl’s passed by. By night, the smell of something i could never understand wafted through it,s walls as you made your way down the steps to be greeted by the door woman.

Back then,The Black and White Cafe on Grosvenor Road in St Pauls, the heartbeat of the community was the place to settle argument’s, chew down on bammy and fish,dumpling or soup..while listening to the mentor’s as they argued over the song’s they felt held the rightful place in their mind’s and hearts.

Back then, all was well in the conflict of home .. the home within where we would escape to forget the antagonistic ways of life and the oppression of the oppressor...where music always brought you back to settle you like a pacifier shoved in your mouth to create the calm you needed to rise to the day that awaited you. I turned my attention again as i watched his physique standing throughout the night oblivious to the stare and connection close to him. He, had been one of my heroes,one of the cornerstones of my youth. He had not changed much. Slightly skinnier slightly grayer but those eyes..like dart’s flashing around absorbing all that came in front of him just like he did all those years ago when age was my friend and the day was my enemy.

I longed to be once again, in his presence and thrown back in time to an era far removed from the present one when then,you knew every colored face in the area albeit,even if you did not know their name you knew, their face. I reflected on his character . what he did not say with his mouth he expressed with his hands.

The deck’s were his companion and now, as i watched him, i was reminded of the past and where he had come from to where he was now.. Tonight,as he stood and watched the young DJ throwing down Dancehall tunes while all around him people edged their way through crowds to get to the bar for their brandy and cokes, white rum and cokes and dragon stout’s i wondered what he thought of today’s hypnotic scene that was revered for the dance as well as the dancer’s.

I wondered what he thought of lost discretion as the big ‘batty’ gal dem rode their mate to the sounds of Beanie man. A far cry from the sounds of Concrete Jungle when the sufferers cried out,”No chains around my feet,but i,m not free”... Bob Marley, John Holt,Pat Kelly,U Roy, a few men unaware of the influence they were making at that time on young live’s musically who then were waking up to self identity with pride.

These artist’s were the backbone of the club as we hungered each week and waited to hear their latest 45 to be played where upon,rapture’s of ecstasy would belt out as the night went deeper and the spirits became higher. Once a fight broke out and the DJ stood and watched as he reached for a record..the storm settled as the words of the song echoed around the club from the speaker’s that were the treasure’s of the sound system. “simmer down rude bwoyy, simmer down...”

And now this night i watched this tall lonely figure who it seemed had been brushed aside many year’s ago when the LP became the CD and when the club had burned to the ground with the memories encased within it’s ashes.

I imagined myself as one of the current young one’s of this generation completely unaware of who he was..where he had been or even knowing, what his story was that he could tell.. I found myself wondering what must it be like to be completely anonymous in the present after being recognized as one of the iconic original’s of his time in the past and when England was opening it’s doors to the likes of first generational West Indians while introducing them to their own music .

He was, my past, my present and somehow, represented my future. Would people know me in 40 years..would people disrespect me,an old lady with a story so rich with history that, i would not know where to begin. Would i be thrown aside without a second glance or judged after too many glasses of white rum..

What would people say to me when i scolded them for disrespecting me only to be greeted with the sentiment of aggression and rage fueled by the anguish of oppressive mayhem in their lives with anger passed down from tired elder’s too weak to speak and too old to fight anymore and accepting their fate in the mother country after endless year’s of laboring to cement the foundations for future generations and yet, too proud to go back home...

Perhaps, this was the same for him now. ‘So much ting to sey right now, i have so much ting to sey..!! ‘ Bob rang out in my ear’s as i smiled secretly to myself watching the change in atmosphere as the mighty man sang out his word’s of comfort and hope for the oppressed around me bringing people back to the present consciousness of love to all. The original DJ who had helped to define my life by helping me understand my mixed parentage and the bridge to self,a journey taken with answer’s to question’s unfolding along the road even at this stage. Who was he?..Who was i..?? Something i was still asking myself 42 years later.

We had both crossed a bridge albeit unknowingly to each other. Our live’s so interwoven it was as if i knew him completely and as if,he were my father who had abandoned me at the age of 8 leaving a space to be filled by the elder’s i grew to love.

I realized in that moment now,he had helped to shape my life he was, who i am now.

He, had helped to make me feel safe within the insecurities' of the boundaries i dared cross. The memories of the men stood in their tonic suits with crisp white shirts, ties peeking out shoes, glowing in the dark from the time spent being polished to perfection.The pork pie hats on top of the groomed tight hair next to the goatee beard’s and white gleaming teeth that flashed the smiles of the men in the club that worshiped the throne of the DJ came flooding back.

We looked at each other as our eye’s met.

With a knowing nod, he smiled and my heart sank thankful for the time we had spent together never exchanging one word,just as we did back then. I felt the pain of gratitude towards him as well as sadness at what he had become but joy at knowing, he was still among us. People began to leave as the dawn began it’s journey.

I watched as he turned to leave satisfied, the world he lived in still had some of the music that kept him going..i smiled secretly with pride at how far, we both had both come.