It was a hard trip to resist as a Reggae fan. It also
appealed to the adventurer in me: A ride on an old battered red, green and
yellow Jamaican “Zion bus” with music blasting. Riding high, high, high up
Mount Diablo [aka Mystic Mountain]. Off to visit Reggae legend Bob Marley’s birthplace
in the small St. Anne’s parish town of “Nine Miles”. Afterwards, it was
promised, we would fly all the way home. Hmmm. Let’s go…
Early morning found us loosely ensconced in the Zion bus. Seemed very Jamaican! Our DJ got the party started by playing his favourite Marley
tunes and telling us the story behind each song. The bass was waaay too loud as
it pumped full blast out of the bus speakers. Our guide laughed loudly at his
own jokes, mostly about getting stoned. Janet, my cousin and I watched
wondering; was it an act, for real, or a little bit of both? Quite crazy but fun!
Look down ... waaaaaaaay down!
Our bus winded its way up the mountains along a very narrow
hillside road. I use the term “narrow” lightly. I stared out my window way down
to the steep valleys and tiny villages below. The hillside was covered with thick
green jungle; towering palm trees, sprawling ferns, and God knows what else. Simple
wood, stone and sheet metal shacks peeked out from here, there and everywhere
they could be possibly built. Yes! We were getting pretty high!
I was fascinated more than horrified, as our driver continued
to pump the gas and air brakes while leaning on his horn, warning everyone on the
road to get out of the way. He looked like he knew what he was doing. Still, I gazed outside my window again, at the sheer drop
to certain death. What a way to go! Yup, one wrong turn, bad bump or someone
who doesn’t pull and we go flying off into oblivion. I sat awestruck glued
to my seat. What else could you do as we climbed higher and higher up the
mountain side for a good hour or so on the Zion bus?
The view of Nine Miles from Bob's place.
As we passed through the villages children raced outside the
bus windows pointing their index finger in the air. It wasn’t for “One Love”,
as the Bob Marley song goes. They wanted a dollar. We later bought a Bob Marley
fund raising Cd instead, the money to be used at the local school. It seemed like
a good idea to me.
Bob Marley is long gone. He died from cancer in 1981 at age
36. The family owned Marley Foundation now controls his estate. Bob often
quietly helped those in financial need without asking for anything in
return. The school CD was in the same humanitarian spirit. A sad footnote: only
the handful of teachers on our bus made any contribution, for a cd or handout,
let alone a tip throughout our trip. Very unkind considering the extreme gulf
between the two worlds, ours and theirs as was quite obvious throughout the trip.
Our bus pulled up outside the gate at Bob’s house. The tiny
mountainside town of Nine Miles is really just a few shacks surrounded by
jungle. A crowd swarmed the Zion bus holding up handfuls of Ganga
outside our windows, for sale by the bag or by the spliff. Our guide explained
that smoking weed is common inside the Marley grounds, but you can’t buy any
there.
He held the gate open, keeping the crowd at bay while we walked back outside into an alley way bazaar. A wide variety of herbs and herbal concoctions
were spread out on display. Thick buds of golden green sensimilla cost $40 US for
a quarter ounce, rolling papers included. Big grass cookies and huge thick hash
brownies were $20 each if you preferred not to smoke. There were also small
black turds of hashish for sale, but I didn’t catch the price. Apparently there
were cups of grass tea too but I didn’t see it myself.
Jamaica is famous for it's herbal remedies to cure whatever ails you.
It’s pretty common for a lot of baby boomers to still smoke marijuana. I am no stranger to it. I also grew up in the sixties and seventies when marijuana
seemed to be everywhere even though it was illegal; a federal offence. I didn’t
liked how that attracted a criminal element. Still, I also recall that whenever
there was a fight or any bad vibes, be it at a party or a concert, it
invariably involved the drinkers, and not the pot heads. As the saying went,
“Make love not war!” After a few tokes the tunes sounded great. The
conversation quite hilarious. We’d get the munchies because everything tasted
so great. Marijuana certainly had its moments!
I haven’t in bided in either vice for a very long time. As a
teacher I made a life choice not to smoke or drink. I never missed booze or cigarettes, still
don’t. Bleech! However, I felt nostalgic at the novelty of seeing some weed
again.
To paraphrase an old Bob Dylan sixties song, "the times certainly are a
changin’". Marijuana is now gradually being legalized in the US. Also, federal party leader Justin
Trudeau is promising to legalize it if he is elected as our Canadian Prime
Minister next year. My guess would be it’s only a fairly short matter of time now.
What’s the story in Jamaica? Our tour guide explained its being
decriminalized. It’s hoped it will provide a good cash crop to help create jobs
and stimulate the economy. What else have they got? Well, there’s bauxite and
tourism. All is not well. It hasn’t been for a very long time. Bob Marley and
the Wailers’ protest anthems and spiritual pleas make that perfectly clear. We’ll
examine their music more closely in my next Jamaica blog. For now, suffice to
say that back inside the Marley gate I munched on a brownie and shared a thick
doobie with my cousin, which neither of us could finish. As far as safe,
friendly service with a smile goes, the Jamaican sensimilla scene at Nine Miles
definitely earns two big thumbs up! I wish them well!
The mausoleum + house.
Looking about the Bob Marley homestead one only sees a few
small buildings. Basically, there are just two rather simple mausoleums and a small house. At first brush the grounds might seem like an unspectacular
shrine for such a great man. However, everything has been painted over in bright
Jamaican colours. Also decorated with flags, handmade Rastafari
murals and signs. Gold records, concert posters, and photographs hang on the
walls of a one room museum of sorts. Stalls offer crafts, and Bob Marley
memorabilia including t-shirts, coffee cups, pipes, papers and cds for sale. Nice
but very pricey. There’s also a small open air drink and snack bar.
Bob Marley left behind at least 11 children, from wife Rita
Marley and his various girlfriends. Since a deal was struck with
Island Records in 1992, they are all a part of the Bob Marley Foundational
which owns, controls and profits from his estate. Rita has enjoyed a successful
musical career. A few of his children have followed in their father musical
footsteps. Ziggy and Damien Marley come immediately to mind. I’m glad the
proceeds from our trip are being kept within the family, rather than being
exploited by Babylon. You can spend your money here confident it isn’t going to
a big impersonal corporation!
By high noon, Nine Miles was as hot as a blast furnace.
There was hardly a breeze. The yard was tightly packed. We had to wait a bit just looking around, as each group of visitors took turns moving among the
crowded buildings and rooms. I was pretty kazooed and felt like I was just floating
along through Bob’s home with the crowd, feeling no pain. It was easy to become
totally immersed in the experience. I haven’t any complaints, far from it,
everything seemed fitting and in tune. In the courtyard, we were also entertained
by a ragtag band of dread locked reggae musicians playing Bob Marley songs, spreading
good vibrations and getting us into the spirit of things.
We were escorted around the grounds by our dread locked guide
who explained the site in detail. We saw the stone mausoleum were Bob’s mother is
buried. Then we visited Bob’s bedroom in the house. It pretty much looked like I’d
expect; a Tough Gong poster and a small bed. Not much else. Finally we ended up
in the mausoleum that is Bob’s burial place.
According to his mother’s wishes Bob Marley is buried in the
mausoleum with his half brother. Apparently Bob’s guitar was also buried
with him though nobody seems quite sure which one. I lit a candle and walked around
the tomb past the personal mementos that others had left behind on their visit;
plants, joints, rolling papers, lighters, photos, flags and the like. Then after
coming full circle, as is the tradition, I respectfully placed my candle on the
front pedestal where I left it to burn. I
felt very calm and peaceful. Also quite honoured to be in the presence of such
greatness here among the most simplest and humble of places.
Bob's bed!
No, there really isn’t much to see. But Nine Miles is a very
spiritual experience. Mr. Bob Marley has returned from the heights of greatness
in our often big, bad world. He has come back to his humble beginnings having delivered
a timeless message of love, peace and hope in the struggle for political and social
justice. It only seems right to me that his final resting place is here, in his
very simple village birthplace, now reunited with his people, family and
friends.
As promised we truly did
fly back down the mountains on our breathtaking trip home aboard the Zion bus. I
was still flying high a good 12 hours later, caught up in the magic of our
visit. I can’t say that smoking weed again was any big deal in and of itself. It
was fun but I suppose I could take it or leave it. Maybe it will be more
enjoyable after it is legalized in Canada? Hmmm. Half the time I’d forget what
I was going to say, leaving me quiet, listening and watching more. Maybe that’s
not an altogether bad thing? Other times, I’d be jabbering away a mile a
minute! Still it was quite part and parcel of the greater overall trip to pay
homage to Bob. As such I thoroughly enjoyed myself!
Lots to think about!
I’m retired and feeling pretty de-stressed these days. I’m
quite high on life as it is. I find myself listening to Bob Marley and the Wailers
again almost nonstop since my trip. It will forever continue to be a part of
the soundtrack to my life. Bob Marley, his music and message always make me feel
high in the natural sense. You don’t need to smoke the herb to appreciate that,
though one might also argue it doesn’t hurt much either!
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