Title: Rasta Revelation

Author: Jah Shakespear

Publisher: Willems Uitgevers (October 20, 2021). 396 pages

Rasta Revelation, which has been described as “a spiritual thriller to the beat of reggae”, is a newly released book by Karel Michiels, whose pen name is Jah Shakespear, a nickname bestowed upon him when he studied literature. The story is set in Kingston, Jamaica, where Ras Fire, a Dutch Rastaman with very special characteristics, is murdered. His friend Johan Bode travels to Jamaica to investigate the case. On the trail of the killer of his white Rasta colleague, the hapless Johan, a Belgian journalist, returns to Jamaica, via Miami, seeking answers amongst all the red herrings.

A whodunnit with a difference,
Rasta Revelation is an intriguing reggae murder mystery, exploring aspects of race, social class, gender, and colonialism, against a backdrop of an outsider’s devotion to the music and his grappling with the messages, meaning and contradictions of Rastafari. It’s a trip full of natural mystic, infused with numerous well-adapted songs. Gradually the history of the most influential black freedom movement of the 20th century unfolds: Rastafari. Step by step, Johan reveals the truth behind the murder of Ras Fire, to end up in the Promised Land, Ethiopia.

Rasta Revelation is touted as the first full-fledged novel about reggae and Rastafari, and Michiels, a veteran in reggae country, has written hundreds of articles and three books about the music and the movement that enchanted him from a young age. In the 80s and 90s he was the editor of Ridim and Rockers, the first reggae magazines in Belgium. In 2002 he founded Reggae.be, the main portal for everything reggae and Rastafari in the country, still going strong today.

In 1997, Michiels met the Elders of Mystic Revelation of Rastafari, and travelled with them through Europe. It was on this trip and his visits to Jamaica afterwards that he really got to know the history, mystery and prophecy of Rastafari, which had interested him from way back when he started listening to reggae music in the 1970s. Later he travelled to Ethiopia and found even more inspiration for what would become his novel, which is a thriller, travel story and autobiography, all at once. More than 40 years after he wrote his first articles on reggae and Rastafari, he is still the only full-fledged reggae writer in Belgium, writing for
Reggae.be and national newspaper De Standaard.

According to well-known reggae historian Roger Steffens, author of So Much Things to Say: The Oral History of Bob Marley, “This is the book that has begged to be written for decades now.
Rasta Revelation brings the Bible up to date in this thrilling story of life in the dungles and high rises of a contemporary Jamaica, a tale rich in well-drawn characters and insider information, mingling myth and mystery in masterful prose.”

Copies of the book are available for purchase at amazon.com

Bookends presents an excerpt.

EXCERPT:

Super Star

(Linval Thompson)

Kingston. 23rd July 2007.

Nobody noticed that Ras Fire was dead, let alone murdered. After all these hours, the drummers only had an eye for their bongos. The horns-men, trumpet, saxophone, trombone, stood with their backs towards him. An old Rasta cleaned ganja, seeds and twigs, ready for ritual smoking. On the narrow terrace, three young men with dreadlocks were discussing a text that someone had written in large print on a wooden panel, cut in the stylised contours of the African continent. I & I salute black history. Battle of Adwa 1896-1966.

Downstairs, down the rough concrete stairs to the street side, Brother Marcus handed out mangoes and oranges to the children of Rockfort. They had been wholly engrossed in his teachings earlier. Next to Brother Marcus, on the lowest step of the stairs, sat a beautiful young woman.

‘Ras Fire in deh?’ a boy asked, black as the night, a far too long, worn basketball shirt around his shoulders. Brother Marcus nodded and let the boy pass. He was only too aware of Ras Fire’s status in Rockfort in recent years and throughout the country in recent days. The Jamaicans recognised in him a pedigree Rasta man.

First, they were confronted with the massive dreadlock draped over his frail body, a real knotty lock, a big, knotted bunch of hair. In Jamaica they say natty. Ras Fire was a real natty dread, in body and limbs.

But he also possessed the knowledge. Ras Fire knew everything there was to know about Rastafari, much more than your average rasta in Jamaica. As a white, biblical European, he had read books and studied history. He could defend his faith with quotations and arguments, and now for the first time, he had the opportunity to do so publicly, on Jamaican radio and television no less. The first time, on
TVJ — the public broadcaster — a storm of indignation had erupted on the island. A real disgrace, the viewers complained, showing off with that poor man. The second time, on
CVM TV, the commercial channel, people listened to the story of Ras Fire, and some remembered the words of their father or their grandfather, who were the first Rastas. The third time, on
Irie FM, the reggae radio, Ras Fire urged the youths to stay true to their roots and the spirit of Haile Selassie I. The next day, on a dance with Stone Love, Jamaica’s number one sound system, the DJs had proclaimed him as a prophet. Even Ce’cile and Elephant Man, the slackest of all dancehall artists, acknowledged in Ras Fire a messenger sent by Jah who could rally the people and point them in the right direction.

And so, in just a few days, Ras Fire had become a real superstar. Jamaica tends to produce a new superstar every year — a few number one singles, and the island is at your feet. But this man impressed his audience, and not only the youths. Also, at the meetings and grounations of the various Rasta movements, everyone talked about Ras Fire. The Nazareens spontaneously created a chant, a conjuring song about Ras Fire and the Book of the Seven Seals. Probably Bob Marley was the last Rasta man to grip the nation in this profound manner.

And yet, nobody realized that Ras Fire had passed away that night in Rockfort. It had been a revolving door of folks all day at the Count Ossie Center, all looking for the positive vibrations of the music. When Mystical Roots came to jam on Sundays, everyone wanted to be there. Especially now that Brother Marcus had brought Ras Fire into the Centre, known from radio and TV. Other superstars had passed by, habitually surrounded by their agents and bodyguards. Rockfort was known as Kingston’s top murder district. Not everyone dared to rely on Brother Marcus’ natural authority and delicate appearance to stave off trouble, no matter how much people admired and respected him.

Ras Fire had judged that he did not need protection, even in this impoverished neighbourhood, a confusing network of walls and houses, poorly built, rebuilt and rebuilt again, mostly with cast-off bricks, stones, and other recyclables. Being a frightened white visitor, one could imagine a gangster lurking behind every fence.

In this oppressive community, the Count Ossie Center stood as an oasis of peace and inspiration wrapped inside an abundance of flora around the house and a little further up into the Wareika Hills. Nowhere else in Jamaica grew Rastafari so close to the hearts of people as here on Glaspole Avenue, a far too expensive name for such a modest street.

“’
Im dead!” the little boy shouted with a shrill voice.

Ras Fire had always known that he would die in Jamaica. The only alternative was Ethiopia, but he never managed to make it all the way there. So it goes with “promised lands.” It could have been a bit less violent, he thought in his last moments. He also regretted not being able to talk some sense into the killer. But the very final thought of Ras Fire was one of great gratitude. Who would have dared to expect that he would live such a long and beautiful life?

This excerpt from Rasta Revelation (c) Jah Shakespear is published here by permission of the author.