While it didn't involve many miles, our trip from central Kingston to the Rasta compound did increase our elevation considerably. Judging by the difference in temperature and humidity and the chrystal-clear, forest-scented air that informed the breeze there, I'd say the compound was perhaps a thousand meters above the city. Exiting the car at the Rasta compound car-park, Bob and I were both struck by how much more comfortable it was at that elevation; Winston and Martel said they felt a little chilled on the mountain and were more comfortable downtown.
It's about a mile-and-a-half from the car-park to the compound. The river is crossed three times en route to the compound which is lower in elevation than the car-park, but still high enough (and cool enough) for a couple of guys that were at home in San Francisco only the day before. At varying distances from the trail and the river,about a dozen homes were seen before we reached the compound. At some point, the trail forks into three trails. We took the one that most closely followed the river and lead us thru a thicker section of forest, the floor of which had been cultivated with flowering plants of variously beautiful colors and shapes, that seemed to welcome the visitor to the Rasta compound. The trail passed into a clearing. Winston called our attention to a small, window-less building (about the size of a small catering truck) which, he said contains a 20 kilowatt generator, powered by a chrysler industrial engine. It was a gift of one of the Rastas' most ardent, steadfast and appreciated supporters and while they would have loved to have the light which that generator could supply to the entire enclave, it had only been allowed to run for about twenty minutes before it was unanimously decided to shut it down. And it hadn't been started again. They had been unable to completely contain the sound of it and though the sound it made wasn't really loud, it was audible and that just ruined the otherwise heavenly environment. From that point, we could see the core buildings of the compound in the distance, within a hundred feet of the river. Up a gentle slope from the core, about twenty very small cabins sat nestled in another thicket, this one cultivated with edible, as well as ornamental plants and host to a dozen-or-so chickens. The cabins were so small as to make one wonder about their utility. Much less than half the size of an average bedroom in an average american tract home, all nearly, if not exactly the same size. Too big to be chicken houses (and too many) but too small to contain more than a double bed and a small closet. Some women were seen in the open space around which the cabins were located. A few of them apparently tending the plants, a few others in conversation with each other. Waves were exchanged with them as the four of us continued on the trail toward the core buildings.
The trail leads right to the main entrance of the chapel which is the largest building on the compound and also provides entry to the rest of the core buildings. The four structures, the chapel, cook-house, dining shelter and a storage building containing a one room office, are located around a courtyard, much like an atrium, that serves as a kind of large back yard and is accessible from any of the buildings. As we arrived at the entry foyer of the chapel, Winston led us in ceremony: From a large basin, the rim of which was waist-high, he took a hand full of what he said was Holy Water and used it to wet his forehead and both hands. He invited us to do the same and said it cleansed us and prepared us to enter the the chapel. He then recited (from memory) Psalm 121, after which, he told us that the same ceremony is performed for departing as for arriving.
As we entered the chapel, we were greeted by Brothers James and Matthew, the two Rastas that had visited us at Gates of Eden. They said that Brother Ivy was in conference, but would meet us at dinner. He had assigned Matt and Jim to be our personal guides who would henceforth be at our sides until we boarded our return flight home. The four of us sat, 'round a table in the courtyard. A loaded chillum was lighted and passed around. Perfect to whet our appetites while the many delightful, escaping fragrances of cooking dinner wafted past us from the open cook-house. After Winston and Martel had "transferred our custody" to Matt and Jim, they spent only a few minutes visiting before beginning their return to Kingston.
It was in November and not far removed from American Thanksgiving Day, so the Rastas had whacked a big, beautiful wild tom turkey and roasted it on a spit over a fire-pit, served it with some steamed vegetables and tubers on wild rice, and wished us a Happy Thanksgiving. (meanwhile, the Keeper of the Pipe never rested; and our little group of four found our assigned chillum perpetually loaded, not completely interrupted by dinner, a sort of hedonistic multi-tasking). Brother Ivy joined us for a few moments, said his conference would be longer than expected, he hoped we were enjoying dinner and asked if it was like one we might have made for ourselves; Bob and I agreed that it wasn't the same thing but it was great in it's own right. Before he left us, he told Matt and Jim to bring us to evening services.
When the invitation for me to visit the Rastas in Jamaica was first extended, I was well aware that men of the Rasta compound did not regularly sleep and I made it clear that my health regimen included about six hours of sleep per day and that I would insist that I be allowed at least half that much, every day (night). If that would pose a problem, I would need to decline the invitation. Matt said (at the time the invitation was presented-at GoE in San Francisco) he was sure that my sleeping 3 hours per nite while at the Rasta compound (or six, for that matter) would pose no problem.So, I ran the subject by Matt again right there in the compound's courtyard. I asked him what reaction might follow if Bob and I followed the beams of our flashlites to a spot (perhaps, near the river) and rolled out our air mattresses and bed bags, slipped into them and into blissfull sleep. Matt laughed and told us it would be ok; the brothers realize that's your culture and you're used to it. Some of the more devout among us may approach you with entreaties to get you up and out of danger, ie the pestilent night air, the fact of your sinfull slumber, but it's likely that once you're asleep, your state will be respected and,even if they hang around to protect you, they'll do it silently. Starting at 3am, it had been a long day for us and I was relieved to know that rest was only a few hours away.
end of Visit with the Rastas at Blue Mountain part two
The trail leads right to the main entrance of the chapel which is the largest building on the compound and also provides entry to the rest of the core buildings. The four structures, the chapel, cook-house, dining shelter and a storage building containing a one room office, are located around a courtyard, much like an atrium, that serves as a kind of large back yard and is accessible from any of the buildings. As we arrived at the entry foyer of the chapel, Winston led us in ceremony: From a large basin, the rim of which was waist-high, he took a hand full of what he said was Holy Water and used it to wet his forehead and both hands. He invited us to do the same and said it cleansed us and prepared us to enter the the chapel. He then recited (from memory) Psalm 121, after which, he told us that the same ceremony is performed for departing as for arriving.
As we entered the chapel, we were greeted by Brothers James and Matthew, the two Rastas that had visited us at Gates of Eden. They said that Brother Ivy was in conference, but would meet us at dinner. He had assigned Matt and Jim to be our personal guides who would henceforth be at our sides until we boarded our return flight home. The four of us sat, 'round a table in the courtyard. A loaded chillum was lighted and passed around. Perfect to whet our appetites while the many delightful, escaping fragrances of cooking dinner wafted past us from the open cook-house. After Winston and Martel had "transferred our custody" to Matt and Jim, they spent only a few minutes visiting before beginning their return to Kingston.
It was in November and not far removed from American Thanksgiving Day, so the Rastas had whacked a big, beautiful wild tom turkey and roasted it on a spit over a fire-pit, served it with some steamed vegetables and tubers on wild rice, and wished us a Happy Thanksgiving. (meanwhile, the Keeper of the Pipe never rested; and our little group of four found our assigned chillum perpetually loaded, not completely interrupted by dinner, a sort of hedonistic multi-tasking). Brother Ivy joined us for a few moments, said his conference would be longer than expected, he hoped we were enjoying dinner and asked if it was like one we might have made for ourselves; Bob and I agreed that it wasn't the same thing but it was great in it's own right. Before he left us, he told Matt and Jim to bring us to evening services.
When the invitation for me to visit the Rastas in Jamaica was first extended, I was well aware that men of the Rasta compound did not regularly sleep and I made it clear that my health regimen included about six hours of sleep per day and that I would insist that I be allowed at least half that much, every day (night). If that would pose a problem, I would need to decline the invitation. Matt said (at the time the invitation was presented-at GoE in San Francisco) he was sure that my sleeping 3 hours per nite while at the Rasta compound (or six, for that matter) would pose no problem.So, I ran the subject by Matt again right there in the compound's courtyard. I asked him what reaction might follow if Bob and I followed the beams of our flashlites to a spot (perhaps, near the river) and rolled out our air mattresses and bed bags, slipped into them and into blissfull sleep. Matt laughed and told us it would be ok; the brothers realize that's your culture and you're used to it. Some of the more devout among us may approach you with entreaties to get you up and out of danger, ie the pestilent night air, the fact of your sinfull slumber, but it's likely that once you're asleep, your state will be respected and,even if they hang around to protect you, they'll do it silently. Starting at 3am, it had been a long day for us and I was relieved to know that rest was only a few hours away.
end of Visit with the Rastas at Blue Mountain part two
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