Exiting the hot city of lights that was Kingston, heading up to Stony Hill and into the cool greenery of upper St Andrew, heading to St Mary. Annotto Bay here we come as we snaked up the winding round making a sure-footed approach to the lost parish of St Mary.
Sandwiched between banana trees on the tight and ackee trees on the right, it was like a triumphant Roman parade down a boulevard of fruitful dreams.
Under an almost star-less night, rooted to a spot to the left of the massive football field. It was people galore, all one could see was bobbing heads underneath a raining a show of flags. The massive crowd was like the numerous bananas tubers that stood rooted sentry like greeting the sea. At 9:50, we strolled in, ( I felt my belly growl, I had had some pork about an hour earlier).

Follow up:

Up and about on centre stage was a midget sized Puerto Rican named Capital D who held the expectant crowd with Gun Boyz, a tuff chune that raised the flags to an early high. Chanting in straight Jamaican patois the lil brown-skinned crooner stepped off into Ini Kamoze’s World a Reggae Music, getting mucho mucho forwards. Following on centrestage was the all-female group LLMJ ( guess it is an abbreviation of their names). These four ladies made their name as back singers for many singers and it was their time to glow. (One in particular was voluptuously round and had deportee wishing he was playing in her mound of flesh). Junior Fearon, Brian Hart came and went drawing mini applause .
Terror Fabulous, the once prolific hit maker from the early 1990’s stepped on-stage and cranked out Gangster’s Anthem, sat down with Dorothy. Looking a aged man, with the voice straining to carry his once powerful range Terror got the first encore for the night. He relaxed by calling Bitterfly and his sidekick who provided a minor distraction to what the fans wanted– Terror Fabulous.
Do you remember Flourgon? Now sporting shoulder-length dreads, he flashed Jump Spread Out which got the now growing crowd in a nostalgic feeling that rocked the air with pure niceness. Stage show a gwaan good.
Jah Mel, Len Hammond (cousin of Beres and a well-known act in Canada) did a cabaret set of four songs then split. Limey Murray squeezed out some chunes before Lady G stepped up and Ease Off and demanded Respect. Mr Perfect was a model of perfection as he belched out Lock Mi Up and Handcart Boy ( she get her love and joy from a handcart bwoy–– would u be with a handcart bwoy)
Next in was a former model appropriately named Maurice, he strode on and off with creating a ripple in the sea of a crowd.
Hmmm here comes Ruffian. Pink hair, with shocking pink shades, a white capris although it could be called a tight white jeans cut at the calves. She was slack for want of a better word (is this male chauvinist double standard?
“A woman ever hold yuh and f*%@ you?
This question was received with howls of laughter as she sloshed around like a pink hippopotamus. A rude comedienne, gutter material lyrics. She was like a scarecrow with a microphone as a friend said. However, she added raucous humour to what was before a steady diet of Rastafarian propaganda songs.
Now the killer at shows is the band change. Live Wire, a cool band from Ocho Rios completed their section and it was now time for Capleton’s band, Prophecy to string up. It was long band change, but the skettel selectors held things together with their ‘If yuh p*%@! gal, put yuh hand inn di air”. Dancehall selectors have two tongues, they trace anything, they are worse than any market woman on any given day, pure slackness... but u done know, the people lapped it up. It was vomit being ingested for food. yuck.
Moses I, Ras Murduch, Blackman kicked off the David House crew and then boops, the stage lights chipped gone.
It was 1:40 a.m., standing there looking around at all and sundry, knees creaking, fogged up glasses, it was torture. The revelation of the night was a woman I spied and was looking at her and she pinched her friend to show her me looking at her. She looked good, but she disappeared, leaving me with nothing to look at.
We were treated to some dead stock chune and some nonsensical comments from the selectors then bam at 2:20, the stage lights flickered into life. It was sweetness as Coco Tea brightened the proceedings and mixed a cup of sucrose laced chunes that had the crowd hungrily gnawing at each lyric. Love Me Truly, Chune In went over well and Chuck Fender raised the mantra with Good Over Evil (I Swear), Oh My Lord, and the much acclaimed Murderer. Clearing a path was Bushman who Remember the Days. Chrisinti sang his Oh Sheila then criss-crossed off for the Grays’ Inn crowd to hear ‘Money Oh’
Macka Diamond pricked the ire of the males with her taunts of ‘Money Oh. Leggy thighs wrapped in black leather skirt, beautiful leather jacket and her love flowing mane topped off with a hat, Macka called herself a thief.

People me a thief, what me say? me say mi a teef
All a de man dem call me teef
Call it louder, yes me a teef
When yuh mana sleep go in a him pocket
Tek out him billfold and when him ask yuh
Tell him say him money mussi lost or him pocket have hole

This was comedy central on a football field. Captain Barkey and his partner ( hahah) Wickerman did funny counteractions to some popular chunes. Sugar Roy and Conrad Crystal toned down the crescendo that was built with Macka Diamond before them.
It was now time for the big man and it was N.n..n inja Maaaaaaaaaaan. The Don Gorgon was involved in a car crash a couple months a go and he came out in typical Ninja mood. He is the only artiste who can walk on-stage and say nothing for minutes and the crowd rails away. Ninja ‘bussed’ Duckman who showed how a duck came when it was having sex, Nuff joke. Nity Kutchie ( formerly of Scare Dem Crew was called up by Ninja, they had a lyrical battle and hey as usual the Ninja won. Ninja Man get mad again. The alomsot 7,00 strong crowd roared it;s approval sening their voices like choruses up , up up in the morning sky.
‘Baba roots, Red Bull, legal weed” were repeated every 2 minutes as hawkers, selectors, vendors or whatever you call them bumped you, squeezed a pass, some smelling green like cedar. It was 4:47 and the air was pregnant with the smell of steamed fish, It smelled nice you see, me did a get hungry to rasss.
Ninja Man talked about his accident and he recent misfortunes and puked out his p*%@! songs. He got an encore, afterall he is from St Mary.
The Energy God Elephant Man trumpeted on-stage croaking out Higher Level and made Dancehall Nice Again, rinsed out the pocomania rhythm driven Bad Mind and Willy Bounce the baton over to( Moses Davis) Beenie Man who was joined by The Prophet, King Shango or just for you Capleton. These two dynamic duo Beenie man and Capleton rocked the crowd to a nirvana state. It was a celebration, it was Sunday morning church service with the huge stage being the pulpit and the crowd the hungry congregation, receiving the Word with eagerness in a trance-like state. We made our way out of the grounds, knees stiff and stiffening from 8 hours of standing in one spot woi lawd me knee a hot me. Gun salutes were ‘rinsed’ in tribute as the two powerful performers pranced on-stage. Walking pass police men and women sitting bleary eyed but dem shouldn’t look so tired, dem a go nyam a big’ food’ from the giant payment they got for being there. The sun rising in the east, it was time to head home to Kingston.
Entering the boulevard flanking by banana and ackee trees, and how lovely and fruitful it was. The feeling of the cool dew rising from the grass, the mist hanging from the hilly slopes entering a path to and through a Promised Land that was St Mary. A petite princess opening her mind to Vanity’s Fair and her Venus Mound to a lingham and enjoying the offering.