Announcement?

Well, it’s been almost four months since the last postings, and, shockingly, this would be the last post on this blog as I’ve (just) decided to open a new tumblr blog and post much more frequently on that one as it’s a much more convenient publishing platform/tool. (Yeah, it’s quite a sugarcoating for saying “Hey, I’m too frigging lazy to keep this thing updated. So I’m moving to something simpler!”. I know.)

I thought about migrating all the posts–just two–to the new tumblr, but came to a decision that it would be better to keep things separated as the Bible (Luke 5:38) says: “No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins.”

So, if there’s anyone reading this, come join me to this new ‘wineskins’. See you there.

A rasta camp in the Blue Mountains.

I didn’t mean to keep this kind of interval between posts — how long has this been, a month? — but things happen and it happened. Hopefully I could manage to shorten it, but can’t say I guarantee. I know it really sounds arrogant, and self-centered, but this is one of a few things I’ve learned while I’m travelling; never promise anything that you have no firm confidence you can deliver it.

For the last chapter of Jamaican trip, I decided to come to the Blue Mountains area, where most people would’ve heard of as an origin of fine coffee beans. Actually I was looking forward to climbing all the way up to the Blue Mountain Peak, but, thanks to my laziness and lack of proper research, I couldn’t manage to find an accommodation, transport, or even a (ideally reliable) map of hiking trails that leads to the Peak. So, instead, I asked a friend of mine, who resides in the island, and knows a lot of people around, where I should visit so I can experience at least a tiny bit of it. And the Mount Edge guesthouse was the one she recommended me to try.

FYI, like the title of the post suggests, I’m not going to write about the guesthouse as you could possibly find lots of and much better articles which are dedicated to give you a good glimpse of the accommodation, and I’m not interested in such review stuffs, but post about a rasta camp (a group settlement of Rastafarians which is generally in a remote area from cities) nearby the guesthouse.

To be frank, all I knew before the visit was they worship an Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie I, Bob Marley was a firm adherent of the movement, and they speak somewhat different version of Jamaican Patois (called a Rastafari English). And, still, I can’t say I know a lot about the Rastafarians, as in people, or the Rastafari movement after the visit. One thing that I can say about now and then is that I believe the Rastafari movement should be considered not some sort of a ‘blaxploitation’ of Christianity, but an offspring of the enslavement of Africans as it mingles itself so deeply with Christianity, slave trades, imperialism, and so on.

That being said, I was so excited to have a chance meeting and having a conversation with Rastas who practice the “Way of Life” firsthand when I was told there’s a rasta camp not far from the guesthouse. (Well, obviously, ‘not far’ is quite a relative wording, given that roads are heavily curved and running up and down in the Blue Mountains region.) So, I decided to pay a vist to the camp as there couldn’t be possibly anything to lose beside a few bucks in case anybody would ‘ask’ me for a drink of food (by the way, in the end, it did happen, to a mild surprise of my friends as people generally wouldn’t expect such things to happen in rasta camps.) And the start was also great. Someone passing by gave me a ride! For free! In Jamaica! (You’ll know what it’s like once you come here.)

After a short ride, but some distance for a walk, which I had to take a walk on the way back, I was standing in front of the starting point of a trail that leads to the camp. And, of course, from there, it took about twenty minutes to get to the camp. (There must be a reason to call it a remote place, right?) Following the trail, I could see some sort of a mural of the Emperor and those three colours on the way and then finally the main gate of the camp appeared.  (The first and second pictures in the gallery at the bottom.)

My first impression of the camp was the whole settlement, or et, seemed not much different from any other rural Jamaican ones, expect they’re living quite away from a main road most — it’s quite opposite to most of Jamaicans. Jamaicans love to live close to where things happen, and most of cases, roads are it — and the whole place is packed, painted, or carpet-bombed with the Rastafarian flags, murals, paintings, etc. Practically, it was impossible to ‘avert’ your eyes from any of the Rastafarian symbols. It kind of felt like they were trying to declare or impress that they and their land do not belong to Jamaica, or any entities that has been westernized, but the true Africans who still cling to the traditional values. Well, there was one perk to be up there. It has a hell of a view of the Blue Mountains and the metro Kingston. (The fourth, fifth and sixth pictures in the gallery.)

As soon as I get past the gate, someone strolling in the camp found me and approached to me. And, like it’s a daily routine, she started to guide me around. They have a temple, which was yet to be completed, a school, farms, a small yard for communal activities, and housing for the community members in the camp. There are about twenty families living for the moment, though a number of families left the community a while ago because of some sort of a fight between the head priests of the community, which she didn’t seem willing to elaborate. (I heard the story from someone else later, but I promised the person I wouldn’t tell no one as it would put the person in an awkward position if someone found out she talked to an outsider.) After she’s done with showing me around, she brought me to a person who can answer to my question about the movement, Joseph.

When I met him, he and a couple of other guys were builing a house for an “empress” (I guess it’s a Rastafarian way to call a Rastafarian woman). After a while, Joseph and other guys stopped working as the rain was coming down, and came into a hut which was next to the site. He brought a big piece of plywood and a King James Bible with himself, sat on a plastic cement bucket, and started to teach, or preach to, me about the movement, their viewpoints, and why they’re living up here.

The first thing that came out of his mouth was they’re living up here isolated because, soon, the (westernized) System is going to plant a microchip inside your body, track all of your movements, activities, what you’re thinking, etc, and turn you into a permanent slave of the system. And, as teaches Bible, the day that the Almighty incarcerates will come soon, they’re waiting for the day in the camp while keeping themselves separated from Babylon, which means a ‘human institution or government that rebels against the teachings of Jah and Jah ‘himself’. Hence, the Jamaican society and the rest of the world.

And he started to write all sort of things that juxtapose (the real) Christianity, the good, or men, and Anti-Christianity, Satan, the bad, or women on the plywood using it like an improvised chalkboard. While he was writing, he was also trying to convince me that the Messiah was a Black man by referring to lots of verses in Bible, a King James Version to be precise, which he believes the only unaltered version, therefore the Emperor, Haile Selassie I, is the incarceration of the Almighty, and he will reign the world as the day comes. (The last picture in the gallery is the plywood that he used.)

After his ‘preaching’ and ‘presentation’ of the proofs of the Black Christ, I couldn’t help but feel that their beliefs, a set of rules, or whatever you’d like to call it, is not something that fell far from the tree of misogynistic and sexist viewpoints that embedded in Christianity. For examples, Joseph said the real star of Christ (which is commonly known as “Star of David”) has six angles in it, and each angle is 60 degrees, so you’ll have 360 deg as in a circle when you sum them all up. But, on the other hand, the star of Satan is comprised of five angles, which is 66.6 degree for each, and the sum is 333. And men have six ‘points’, a head, two elbows, two kneecaps, and a penis, like the star of Christ. However, women have only five ‘points’, as in the star of Satan, because women has a vagina instead of a penis. (I’m not sure which word he used, but I remember it was something like a pocket.) So women represent, or are manipulated by, Satan that lures men to commit a sin, so they shouldn’t be a priest or that anything should be in front of God. Of course, I’m not saying there’s such belief in (the mainstream) Christianity, like all those stars and angles thingies, but, still, I think it’s in the same context of the misogynistic and sexist attitude.

Also they seemed so conveniently interpreting some verses in the “King James Version” Bible to satisfy their own beliefs. One obvious example that I can clearly remember is Jeremiah 8:21 (of the KJVB)

For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt; I am black; astonishment hath taken hold on me.

Even without comparing the verse to other versions, it’s so obvious that it shouldn’t be interpreted literally as the word “black” is used metaphorically, as in mourning, or crushed like the other versions did. There were several other verses that Joseph was quoting, and, as far as I’m concerned, all of’em were being quoted and used out of context. It was like watching a tragic comedy, that the striking resemblance between those evangelical churchgoers in the States, who really love their Leviticus and whatnot, and the Rastafarians.

Of course, I’m not making a judgement the entire Rastafarianism only by meeting these handful of people, as there are so many more things to take into account, like the writings of Marcus Garvey. But, honestly, I’m a bit disappointed that even the people who claim trying to go back to their traditional way of life are not free from, or not even wishing to be, those worst skeletons in the closet of Christianity, and even being ended up in an extreme way as the other (white) extremists do.

Anyway, Respect.

Let there be a blog (again, again, again, and again).

I don’t even remember how many cycles I have iterated that to start a blog, post stuffs not that frequently, then, eventually, abandon it. Maybe it’s because I’m really bad at coming up with an opening line. (I mean, look at what kind of opening this post has. This is supposed to be the very first post of this newly commissioned blog!)

Anyway, I finally decided to open a blog in which I refresh and share my memories of my so-far ten-month travel or — if I dare — journey. I’ve been thinking about it for years ever since I started travelling for a relatively long period of time, like one to Japan for half a year back in 2007, which I really regret that I didn’t do nothing back then — feel like I lost chunks of those memories. So, learning from previous lessons — ignore the part that it took years — by the power vested in me,  I hereby commence Operation Blogs, Damned Blogs, and Drained Bank Accounts.

Like I said above, I’m going to write about my travel of this time, which has been going since October 2010, on this blog — what I’ve seen, what I’ve learned, what made me thinking, people I’ve met, etc on the road. We’ll see what’s gonna happen.

Wow, the whole post really sounds like something written by a schizophrenic, doesn’t it?