mots ital I

une fondation (a cold stepper’s dub pt. 1)

feu notre bon Roi
Saint Louis de France
ouvreur de villes
dans la vallée du Saint-Laurent
elles et eux ses
Trappeurs sur terre
daube coloniale
bas Babylone au Canada
chanson de gestes
pour fondation sur montagne sacrée
gens du voyage en bateaux
chemin courts ouverts
entre ciels et terres
inventeurs du pays à naitre
ne dorment ni ne rêvent pas
ne dorment ni ne rêvent pas

une fondation (a cold stepper’s dub pt. 2)

Calmes et Francs
dans la Jérusalem des Terres Froides
tènement continental
gelés sur les buttes assemblés
un procès d’intendance
par jury transatlantique
fuite des morts
pendaison des prophètes métis
tentative, tests des refuges
chambres d’écho privées
près du salon de la reine
les buttes restent enneigées

Look at my face
Look what your charm has done, to me
Ain’t no sugar water running through my vein
It’s raining so hard
Look at my face
Look what your charm has done, to me
Ain’t no sugar water running through my vein
I’m telling you, I’m all over the place
I’m telling you, I’m a horse with no race
Sweet darling is it night or day
Darling can you say my name
Can’t you see I’m losing my head,
Because of you
Because of you
Look at my face
Look what your charm has done, to me
Ain’t no sugar water running through my vein
It’s raining so hard
Look at my face, yeah
Look what your charm has done, to me
Ain’t no sugar water running through my vein
I will invite the greed in our bed
Today I feel like spelling all your names
Sweet darling is the kettle on
Darling is the oven on
Can’t you see I’m losing my head,
Because of you
Because of you
His foundation pon the holy mountain
I and I no stand in the sinking sand
The lion of the tribe of Judah is over all
See the wicked dem a fall
His kingdom come. The wicked dem a run
One by one me seh outta babylon
What a big gun hear dem a blah
Give thanks and praise onto Jah around the clock
Hail the king no burning pastor
Conquering lion is the higher master
Root of David, King Salomon
Who liveth and reign in the holy mount Zion
I will lift up my eyes unto the hills
Unto the hills from where forth comes my help
My help comes from the lord god Jah Rastafari
Which made the heaven and the earth
He will not suffer they foot not to be moved
He will not slumber
He will neither sleep nah slumber


At only eighteen, in and around Kingston in the early 80s, Barrington Levy released everlasting, forever shining high, oh-so-deep roots reggae cuts, collected on his ”Poor Man Style” album. Sinsemilia, True Love, This Little Boy. Every song on there is a small piece of spiritual and musical knowledge, carrying an inimitable style of vocal works, speaking very specially to me and, I know it to be true, a large, fierce and peaceful army of dub devouts.

Listening to this song for a thousandth time, touched once again by Scientist’s sound waves, Flabba’s bass and, in always new ways, by the beauty of such holy lyrics, powerful as true prayers can be, I find out no one has ever transcribed those words of wisdom online, an unforgiveable broken path from Jamaica to the cloud, a genius not yet on Geenius.

Longing for meaning is a thing, trying to write it down a form of seeking. I and I did this on a morning with a good spirit, now even more questions arise. The main one being about the One Being : why only He? She shines so hard too, made us for sure, and They do the good works too, can be all of us, that’s true. Who will help We fill in the blanks, correct the wrongs, for tomorrow and yesterday, for He, for She, for They.

I can’t stay too long
Jah is waiting over there for me
I’ve got to carry out the words for the Father
No man could not tell me don’t do that
‘cause it is He who made us
is He who build us
Give we wisdom now and understanding
So I know you want to worship He
Think of Jah Rastarafari every day
Don’t make no man judge you, oh
Tell you about to say then go fast
Jah is the ruler
It is He who made us
And not just ourselves
I’m going so far on a rocky road
Carrying the every every load
to bury too close to ya
I’m going to deliver the thieve to Jah Jah
So are my dreams
I will do anything for Jah Jah
He is the Creator
Oh Jah Jah
I will do anything for you, yeah
You give me rain when I am out of water
With a vibrant shine, yeah you will be there
Will be there
(?) Would you represent me, ya?
Oh creator, oh creator
Will ya?
My creator
Jah, Jah, Jah, Jah
I say you my Father
I will do anything
For Jah Jah
He is the creator
(?) Evil searching for some water




Leonard Percival Howell

The Suppression of Leonard Percival Howell (1898-1981) in Late Colonial Jamaica, 1932-1954

In: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids Author: D.A. Dunkley

Leonard Howell was the most victimized of the early Rastafari leaders due to his advocacy of the movement’s doctrine. As one of the most visible early leaders who preached the divinity of Haile Selassie I, Howell may well be described as the very first Rasta. But in becoming the first Rasta, he needed to acquire a following, and it was this work of building the movement, a task that he started within months of his return to Jamaica from the United States in 1932, that, in time, would also make him the main target of the effort to suppress the Rastafari movement. No one who opposed the movement in the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s held this position without having some sense of the work of Leonard Howell, some understanding, however limited this might have been, of his advocacy of the Rastafari doctrine.

The first major triumph of the suppression campaign was the two years at hard labor that Howell received from the chief justice of Jamaica in the courthouse at Morant Bay in 1934, along with the one year at hard labor that was reserved for his lieutenant, Robert Hinds. The highest court official in the colony had been sent all the way from the island’s capital of Kingston to preside over the trial of the man who was regarded as the leading figure of the Rastafari, the man who was seen as having started this new religious movement, which many Jamaicans thought of as strange, but which also promoted race consciousness and African solidarity, and overall a radical African-centered philosophy. Howell was the one who was seen as having taken the Rastafari virtually to the doorsteps of the executive and judiciary of the colonial government; and for this role he was eventually made to face conviction for one of the most serious offenses that a civilian could be charged with by their government, the charge of sedition. Howell was sent to jail on this occasion because he was said to have been preaching to people about not pledging allegiance to the colonial government, or to imperial Britain. This kind of advocacy was seen as not merely anticolonial rhetoric, but as the preparation for a revolution, and possibly one that would take place through violent means.

Bagabone, Hem ‘I Die Now (1980) is perhaps the first novel that was purportedly written by a computer.

The back flap of the dust jacket states this about the book’s origins: “Can a computer write a novel? To find out, some experts in literature, linguistics, and computers at the Institute of Science and Technology, Jagiellonian University, Krakow, programed a computer, Melpomene, with English verb patterns and semantic (i.e., meaning) units drawn from twentieth-century women writers, as well as D.H. Lawrence, James Joyce, and some ‘angry young men’ of the 1960s. Then they added some patterns and units from Pidgin English and French, and the astounding result is Bagabone, Hem ‘I Die Now. Melpomene, which is the name of the Greek muse of tragedy, picked the title; translated from Pidgin English, it means, ‘Bagabone (a character in the novel) is dying.’”

Following its publication, Computer World published an article (“Publisher Claims Computer Composed Novel”, 25 Aug. 1980, p. 23) effectively defeating the publisher’s claim about the work’s computational origins. In the article, AI experts deem the novel to be human-written, and another source reports that there is no ‘Institute of Science and Technology’ at Jagiellonian University. Moreover, due to its mode of operation, the publisher (Vantage Press) would apparently have been paid to print the book. The copyright holder for Bagabone was a human—an Englishman named G.E. Hughes—who could not be reached by Computer World. (Intriguingly, this copy of the book is inscribed by one ‘Eric Hughes’, though this could be coincidental.)”

Publisher Vantage Press, New York, 1980
136 pages