She possessed a laughter suffused with sincerity and a spirit defiant of malice; a symbol of our national possibilities she served as an inspiration to a people largely deficient in their cultural confidence.

That Jamaica is now considered a potent force in the realm of international popular culture is in no small measure an enduring tribute to the psychic impact of one Louis Bennett-Coverley, poet, folklorist, dramatist, broadcaster, recording artiste, social commentator, comedienne and colossus of the Jamaican creative arts. Today, we take for granted the phenomenal international appeal which Jamaican popular culture now enjoys.

Yet it would be nothing short of historical mischief to suggest that this desirable state of affairs was reached without the relentless efforts of such cultural mavericks as Louise Bennett and her faithful allies.

Music laden with the true colours and concerns of our people now dominates Jamaican airwaves, yet while we should celebrate this positive development, we should be careful not to yield to collective amnesia. Many Jamaican pioneers struggled valiantly to secure a space for indigenous expressions in our social, cultural and political discourses.

We should always be reminded that before Ms Lou the Jamaican vernacular was to be avoided in polite company and was not countenanced as a legitimate vehicle for artistic expression. Even today, there is still residual resentment to the use of patois among those who still consider it crass and unsophisticated. Miss Lou unequivocally demonstrated to Jamaica and the world that there was value in our telling our stories in our own words, an idea certainly not lost on the creators of The Harder They Come, which served as an important vehicle for the promotion of our music or the successive generations of Jamaicans who have attracted international recognition through their artistic efforts.

Yet what forces did conspire to create this uber influential figure of our national life? Clearly, her being versed in the colonial modes of artistic expression made her ideally suited for the grueling task of championing the use of patois as a legitimate form of artistic expression. Speaking patois for Miss Lou was a cause, not a necessity. Artistes are often required to demonstrate a mastery of the prevailing forms of expression before they seek to present new realities. Miss Lou as a product of the Royal Academy of the Dramatic Arts admirably satisfied this condition.

The fact that she was not given to overt ideological pronouncements was certainly helpful. Miss Lou was a feminist without burning bras. Her ‘flatboard’ which she would often commission to bring a wayward Ranny in check was a powerful metaphor for the forces which would dismantle the structures of male domination in our society. She supported the cause of black empowerment without adopting the language of tribalism.

She was thus able to move stealthily under the radar which perhaps prevented a more robust resistance to her movement from the Establishment. For let there be no doubt about it, she performed a classic act of subterfuge while her detractors remained with their eyes wide shut.

She deftly used the medium of comedy as a weapon of social subversion. No one could have suspected a revolutionary in the cherubic aspect of Ms Lou clad in her peasant-inspired garb. A cigar-chomping expletive-spewing firebrand might have attracted a different kind of reaction and possibly a less desirable outcome.

She recognised the linguistic vitality inherent in the Jamaican tongue. She was aware of the unparalleled emotive and descriptive capacity of such graphic Jamaican representations as ‘meke meke, pyaka pyaka, poto poto, naka naka, and koro koro.’

If the truth be told, Miss Lou might not have been totally satisfied with all the manifestations of her legacy, lucrative though some might have been. Like many parents, she might not have always agreed with the conduct of her children. It could also be argued that the behaviour of many who should have assiduously protected her legacy provided ammunition for those who would want to suggest that her crusade allowed the barbarians to enter the gates.

The legions of bandanna-clad tykes reciting the products of her poetic observations would have been sufficient to satisfy any claim of her being a national treasure, yet this would represent such a small portion of her eternal legacy. She not only influenced but actively promoted many of the important institutions essential to our national character; most notably the National Dance Theatre Company and the Little Theatre Movement.

Her pioneering role in radio and television would certainly have made her an iconic figure in any society and her encyclopaedic knowledge of indigenous lore would have easily commend her as an important national institution anywhere in the world.