In the spirit of the rum

THE STORY of Jamaica rum started on slavery-day plantations when our African ancestors, under the whip, would produce it for export to Europe. For their personal and domestic use, it was limited. A sniff here and a taste there would suffice.

Slavery has long been abolished, but there is no end in sight for the bond that has been forged between people’s palates and the tantalising Jamaican rum. And outside of the political, commercial, and gastronomic sides of the rum story, it’s one that’s fraught with anecdotes of the power and lure of the liquor that is made from processed sugar cane juice.

Rum is an integral part of our cultural and social fabric, more popular than ackee and salt fish. There is hardly a secular event in this country where the scent and taste of rum are not present. It is ‘food’ for some people’s soul, something to imbibe the very first thing in the morning, and even late at night, the bewitching hours, when some drinkers believe they are witches and sing in a slurred voice, “I believe I can fly.”

The rum bar is as staple as a church on the Jamaica social landscape, and there are more rum bars per square mile than there are churches. In those rum bars, there is a lot of rum talk, some with sense, and most of it total nonsense. Gossip and rumours are rum’s companions, and under the influence of the ‘whites’, every man and woman thinks he or she is bright and has the right to speak his or her mind.

Many a ‘friendship’ has been forged over rum because there is always a man or woman who will buy everybody a drink. And the rum is sometimes the cause of ‘war’ between ‘friends’ because someone

refuses to buy back one. Mean spirited they are.

In the spirit of confession, the rum has tossed, turned, and twirled many a man. Now, totally not in control of his subconscious, he spews out his secrets, and those of others, telling tales that were long buried in the dark recesses of his brain. As he talks, slurring his words, his bill is padded and pockets raided.

The rum is the lure of the ‘dead yard’, the grave digging, the wake, and the burial. It is the spirit of the place, the spirit that puts people in touch with the ‘spirits’. It’s about the pouring of libation, the and the drinking, appeasing and pleasing the dearly departed, giving them a taste of what they once had.

In Jamaica, rum is essential for the living and the dead. Jamaica is rum country. Are you tipsy yet?

PHOTOS BY PAUL H. WILLIAMS At the centre of this photo there is a man raising a bottle of rum to his head. He was at the wake to honour the life of a departed Kumina queen. A member of the Charles Town Mar sprinkling rum on to stage during Saturday’s Jamaica Blue Mountains in St Andrew.

A bottle of rum or two are a staple at the altar of indigenous rituals in Jamaica.

A drink of rum, or the lack thereof, can be the beginning or end of a long friendship.

roon Drummers and Dancers g their performance at last ’ Coffee Festival at Newcastle