The Origin Story
Lucky enough to have friends who are, as we say in Bim, “tear heads” (torn in the head) and up for impromptu photo shoots, we decided to create a dancehall poster in the style of Barbadian dancehall posters with two men and a woman. It was for a going away party in 2010 when I moved to Japan, hence the name ‘Konnichiwa Bitches’.
Dancehall Poster Outtakes
As prerequisites, we needed sunglasses and a queen with a Doctorate in Sexiness, and were happy to have Liz on our side. (Trust me, you don’t want her on the opposing team cos she will win the fight before it start!)
The first time I saw this woman dance, three small aneurisms had me dribbling. It was at a Scrawl Up Fete, aimed at grassroots participation, so close to Rihanna Drive, BRIDGETOWN, THE CITY, less than a five minute run to catch the last bus if your ride fell through.
Cars couldn’t pass on this road for the crowd, but people were concentrated in what may have been someone’s backyard, converted into a dance area. That was until Liz happened to them. People start running down the road like panties was giving way on Saturday in Swan Street. So you know I up front! (Planning to resell).
Me emerging from the crowd and seeing Liz
When you hear the shout, the crowd hollering, doing the dog! NOOOOOO! LIZ PUN SHE HEAD IN DE ROOOOOOOAD! I had to walk way and come back. Liz’s dance off challenger had her hands up over her mouth and start to stumble like she had bad feels.
“She going need a therapist,” I said to the old woman next to me in a gold and black sequins catsuit. Liz’s opponent’s bedazzled curling claws and blue weave could not save her from the facts – you is not to judge a book by the cover! They see this white woman and they’re like, “Um umm….. She ain ready.” Then it is a coronary (in your raaaahhhs-sole!).
So we baptised Liz ‘Bashy Bee’ because she was pure bashment (the embodiment of dancehall dance technique and spirit) with which she would STING YOU! Izzy may have just liked the one he made up for himself ‘Mossad AKA End of Dayz’ but I’ll see if he has any notes on that and stick them at the end if he does. My nickname ‘The Red Ram’ has two parts that may be obvious to other Barbadians, but let me break down all three for those not in the know.
How the Ram became Red
I’m melanated to an extent that gives me a tonal quality referred to by the van men (public transport minibus and ZR drivers and conductors) as ‘red’. They see you coming, make an assessment and call to find out if you’re going where they’re taking passengers: “Soldier!” they may say, or “Gran”, or “Short Man!”, or, in my case, “Red Man!”
Now class…who knows what a ‘village ram’ is? NOT YOU AGAIN KEMEISHA! Give the others a chance to respond, please. Correct Waveney! A village ram is a wufless man or, what is another word for ‘wufless’, TREVON?! Don’t think I AIN SEE YOU THERE TEXTING! What’s that you say? Martin Boyce?! That is two words. YOU THINK YOU SMART! Another word for wufless is ‘licentious’.
So it follows that since, in Barbados, ‘red men’ are thought to be wufless that my nickname should be Red Ram. The queen later gave it the honorific ‘The’ to make it ‘The Red Ram’ in a private ceremony where we may or may not have smoked hallucinogens at Buckingham Palace. (Yes, the other queen).
**Am…how, according to the poster, the party START at 3 a.m.?
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