![]() "when mamma spen her las and sen u go class." buju had captured the essence of our thoughts, our prayers, our hopes, our fears. by the end of the song i had tears in my eyes. it was my first experience of "untold stories" and i recognised that gravelly voice in an instant, "is that buju?" i asked? it was. and then, in that way that jamaica has of making random magic. on the drive in from the airport, smelling the slightly rancid salty kingston harbour, breezing past the coconut man, looking across at the cement factory. i came back to ja on a sweltering august afternoon, filled with excitement and trepidation to be returning to my colourful, dramatic, often terrifying and always wildly alive homeland. I have written before that i spent 4 years abroad, finishing up my university degree, this was 1991 - 1995. and he remains a hero to me and to many jamaican people. I know this subject has been exhausted this week, and in weeks months and years past as well, but to stand in solidarity with buju im writing it this morning, and all who want to cuss can cuss, and all who want to bringle can bringle. After reading this you will hopefully understand better why this country is reeling with shock in the aftermath of Buju's imprisonment in the United States. ![]() No one captures the contradictory figure of Buju Banton and what he means to Jamaica better than Sarah Manley in this lyrical, elegiacal piece she posted on Facebook.
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