The darkest of times have descended upon Trench Town, the area from which my religion arose. Jah is my God, Jah is Life, Jah is King of Kings, Lord of Lords and the Lion of Judah. The surrounding sounds of the night are everywhere. You can feel the beat of our generation. The beat of reggae fills the heart of anyone still resisting Babylon in this Caribbean pearl. Trench Town is an endless carnival, still there are those who choose a different life, which never gives what it promises. Babylon has even made its way out here, brought war to the jungle. And with it came the persecution of our sacred ways. Still there is a sweet scent about. Not to worry. We are not madmen. We may laugh and dance, and run wild in the night. This night is a party. It is the birthday of Haile Selassie I. We celebrate not the King himself, but the power of Ethiopia. It seems that all are at one with the music, contributing with their own beat. Stomping their feet on the ground, dust swirling silently in the air. An old Rastaman is inhaling his bubbling water pipe behind my back.
This way is a waterslide away from Kingston that takes me further everyday. This way leads deep into the jungle on the hillside of the mountain. Far from the reach of the authorities, we leave with a trail of red light singing our happy tunes. We know what awaits us. We are looking forward to finding an untouched spot in the woods, listening for the wind and feeling Jah’s grasp on our brains. I am a natty, I wear my hair with natural dreadlocks. I know not how to use a razor, scissors or a comb.
The mane of the Lion brings the first light to the jungle. This is why we shun Babylon, for Babylon has no time for nature.
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