A crisis of the imagination
I recall being a presenter a few years ago at a symposium staged by the Institute of Jamaica which sought to examine some of the challenges to the financial viability of our music. One of the panellists, economist Ralston Hyman, spoke emphatically of the level of disorganisation which plagues the Jamaican music industry, citing it as a retardant to investment from traditional sources of local capital.
I told Hyman that it would be disingenuous of me to pretend that the local music industry could not benefit from greater levels of organisation; however, I asked him how were foreigners able to interface with our artistes and musicians and extract significant value while our compatriots were unable to do so?
Many Jamaican employers bemoan the “indolence” and “inefficiency” of our workers who are often ranked among the best performers when they ply their skills overseas. What is it about the interface among Jamaicans which make our interpersonal relationships seem so relatively toxic and unproductive?
This exchange between Hyman and me was brought back into sharp relief after I heard of a group of American academics who had embarked on a project to utilise dancehall in the teaching of math and science in Jamaica. This came ironically in a week when dancehall was once again under the microscope for what is deemed to be its negative influence on the Jamaican society.
These American academics had conducted a similar experiment at home with hip hop (what is technically another Jamaican music construct) and decided that they would replicate the project here in Jamaica using dancehall. Renee Rattray and the team from the Jamaica National Foundation are to be commended for facilitating this initiative.
It was the great Einstein who noted that something can be so simple that it takes a genius to see it. What we are suffering from in Jamaica is a crisis of the imagination. While we were busy berating our music, outsiders were able to put it to new and constructive use.
I suppose this scenario is not dissimilar to one in which I throw out my garbage and someone comes and forages through my refuse and moves away with valuables, thanks to the power of his imagination and the frailty of mine.
The late great Sonny Bradshaw, in association with what was then Capitol Stereo (headed by the indomitable Norma Brown), once had a concert series in which popular Jamaican music was set to big band arrangements. It was a delightful musical experience and went a long way in expanding the musical horizons of the students across the island who were the targets of this exercise.
The fact is that what the American academics know, and Bradshaw seemed to have realised is that you cannot teach others if you cannot reach them. If I am going to take you on journey, I must meet you at a common point. We waste so much time excoriating the things which spring from our creative imagination which often find such resonance among those beyond our shores.
Remember how we scorned Rasta? Many of us are still latecomers to Bob Marley and his ilk. Interestingly, Marley would make more money in death than many of those who would use it as an instrument of separation in life. Now dreadlocks is high fashion, and the ital food which was a much ridiculed feature of the Rastafarian culinary offering has now been elevated to mainstream health food status.
Recently I was part of a raging debate on Facebook which saw people on both sides enumerating the relative values of using Jamaican dialect as opposed to English. I pointed out that in this instance it was not necessary to choose one or the other as they could pick both.
I had great difficulty explaining to my colleagues that Patois could actually be used as a tool to boost proficiency in English. One of the central challenges of our time is our general incapacity to handle nuanced discourse and concepts.
I was so happy to read an article by none other than Professor Carolyn Cooper addressing some of the misconceptions about language acquisition. Like me, she pointed out that Jamaican is a distinct language with its own grammar, which differs from that of English.
What Professor Cooper and others like her are saying is that if we teach English as if it is not our native language, we will become more proficient at speaking it. Clearly some of those who are criticising Professor Cooper and her position on language do not understand English which they so vigorously champion.
Patois (Jamaican) is derided as useless by some who don’t know that people like Orville Hall are teaching foreigners how to do Jamaican dancehall moves in such far-flung places as Russia and Poland, where they are trying to familiarise themselves with our music and our language.
— cpamckenzie@gmail.com