posted on January 18th, 2010 by Eve in Audio
It’s been too long since I told you all any stories now don’t it. Being from deep Westmoreland in a time before cell phones, Internet and cable, going to the river use to be a really big part of my life. River for me was usually Cabaritta, which is the largest river in the parish and rises near Cascade in Hanover. I remember my Gran-Uncle and brother sometimes catching this really weird fish called Goda-me/Godami/Gadami (however you spell it), which my Great-Gran would then make really sweet rundown out of. Why I say it is a strange fish is it can live out of water for several hours, even days, if kept in a cool damp place I guess its some sort of lung fish but I really only know it as Goda-me/Godami/Gadami so if you know it by any other name please drop me a line.
Ok yu chat too much Eve tell me the story now.
Once up on a time the Creator was in the process of naming all the animals in the world. As you can imagine this went on for some time and it was a very big task to come up with really good names. Eventually names like Aye-Aye and Frigate bird can give a glimpse into the Creator Sprit’s disposition. Much time passed (this was before hours were invented) and finally the Creator was done, sighed and melted in a chair due to the sheer exhaustion of the completed task. Then out of nowhere came a small almost frightened voice it said,
Gad?
So God jump up now and bawl out.
A who dat? A who leff?
This little fish walk out of the shadows, still a bit frightened and with really big Puss in Boots eyes says, Gaddami….
Jack Mandora mi nuh choose none.
posted on November 10th, 2009 by Eve in Mann´s World, Stuff
Recently I stood in Half Way Tree in an eternally long ABM line. Observing the traffic both on the road and in the plaza (mall) and realized that Christmas was upon us. In light of that I figured I would share a few of my mother’s and other women I know with really great Christmas recipes. Fruitcakes are an integral part of the Jamaican Christmas experience. Even in houses where mommies didn’t bake or cook for that matter, they always had cakes and sorrel at home for when the inevitable visitors stopped by. I still have fond childhood memories of being the official mixer, to which I always got a stern warning every year.
“Nuh change the direction yu a mix in or yu a go spoil mi cake!”
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posted on October 31st, 2009 by Eve in Mann´s World
If hip hop should die before I wake
I’ll put an extended clip inside of my AK
Roll to every station, murder the DJ
Roll to every station, murder the DJ
“Hip Hop Is Dead” – Nas
Everyone who goes out to a party should have a gun. Maybe not for the reasons you’re thinking, such as protecting life, limb and property. No everyone should have a gun to shoot the DJ. Yes it sounds harsh but it has gotten to a stage that they just need to be taught a lesson. If you think it’s so harsh then there should be a regular beating of lame-ass DJs. Nothing is more frustrating than an incompetent DJ. More often than not you keep encountering them, especially when going out is more a luxury than ever before DJ’s owe it to patrons to do a good job.
There is nothing more disrespectful than being in a crowded club/dance/party and the patrons- the people who pay to get in and buy the drinks who by extension pay for the DJ and everything else- just stand around waiting for the DJ to play something for them to respond to. Let’s call this the “Gorgon’s Garden” effect, for as far as the eyes can see are only patrons standing as still as stone statues, which in contrast, the DJ and his friends in the DJ booth seem to be the only ones dancing up a storm and thinking this is the wickedest mixing ever.
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