So, the trumpet has sounded and the bells are being polished, and it seems as if we are off on the political hustings again. The old hymns are being trotted out and the pontificating, or the ‘demonisation – depending on how you look at it – of the other side has begun in earnest.
Now, every good political meeting must come with a sankey or hymn considered to be appropriate to describing the party or the candidate’s character.
Saviour With Me is the clearest indication of the candidate’s intent, virtue, and Christian principles. It is also a clear message that the opponent has no such moral standing. But the next night, the opponent hits back, as the strains of I am Thine, Oh Lord can be heard coming from his or her platform.
Jamaicans are well known for their sense of humour and ability to tease rivals. This characterised the songs of the political parties in the early days. For example, way back in 1951, following the devastation brought on by Hurricane Charley, Rose Leon, then a member of the Jamaica Labour Party, was successful in securing clothing for some hurricane victims.
But around the same time, it was alleged that the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) had said at a public meeting that salt fish is more important than education. Who tell them to say that? The People’s National Party (PNP) went into ecstasy. At meeting after meeting, the refrain rang out: “Old clothes govament, a weh me do yu? Sal’fish govament, a weh me do yu? Chaka chaka govament, a weh me do yu? Mi ask yu fi wok an’ yu gi’ me ole clothes.” Now you know why the JLP was once nicknamed ‘ole clothes Govament’.
Some of the songs created to describe the personality of a candidate were strange, in contrast to the real thing. For example, I was never able to understand Busta being hailed night after night as “the lilly of the valley, the bright and morning star”. I don’t think Busta did, either. On the other hand, he must have liked when the crowd sang “We will follow Bustamante till we die”, or “The Busta power is moving just like a magnet…going here, going there, it movin’ you jus’ roun’ everywhere”.
Hymn singing was always a good catch to whip up a crowd. So the PNP claimed in 1954 that “I saw Father Manley stretch fort’ di palm of his right han’ to take me across”, and “Go before us Manley, go before us, and do thy work thyself”, while the JLP traditionally opened their meetings with Onward, Christian Soldiers and Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory.
Busta was the man to beat in 1944, so the call by the PNP to join up with the Comrades was made through music. Many of these songs made Busta the butt of jokes, hence “Come join di PNP, get Busta out di way, Busta only speculate, An’ we words him underrate.”
In one popular tune of the 1940s, the people poked fun at Busta’s housing plans: “Busta promise us electric fan, but no house, no lan’ fi heng it pon.”
I look forward to some creative songs in next year’s campaign. The JLP’s Deliverance is Near in 1980 devastated the PNP. In 1972, the Ethiopians’ Everything Crash carried it home for the PNP.
But this is going to be a different kind of election and we old-timers may miss the festive boards, the party songs, the hymn sings, and the plain, Jamaican humour that characterised the platform speeches and exchanges between candidates. I used to take in at least one public meeting per election up until 1972. For me, it was a chance to get close to some of the personalities you only read about in the newspapers.
Molynes Road Square, Four Roads, was one of my favourite meeting places.
Molynes was where Norman Manley did a dignified jig to Derrick Morgan’s hit songs in the 1962 election, and Busta was shepherded on to the stage against a background of 1,200 candles.
1962 saw a toe-to-toe campaign. The PNP urged Jamaicans to “vote for the man with the plan.”
The JLP countered with their slogan, “The party with the programme”. Night after night, the JLP crowds would chant, “Let eye water fall on the man with the plan, Busta come back again.”
And Manley took a swing at the comeback kid when he told a Four Roads crowd that “I wouldn’t put the JLP in charge of a fowl coop much less to run a government”.
When a political unknown, ‘Doc’ Edward Fagan, defeated Norman Manley in the first general election, December 14, 1944, for the Eastern St. Andrew seat, it was a stunning blow to the PNP.
Indeed, Bustamante, who won that election, was upset at this unexpected turn of events.
Proof of this is that, in naming his candidates, Busta had purposely refused to nominate any candidate against his cousin Manley in the first instance.
Sometime after the publication of the candidates’ names, Doc Fagan ran into Bustamante at the McDonald Drug Store on Orange Street, a place where politicians met regularly to discuss the events of the day.
The good Doc remonstrated with the ‘Chief’ for not including him in his list of candidates. Busta took it in good humour and said, “OK, go ahead and register, but you are bound to lose against Manley.” Not so. Fagan beat Manley.
In the years that followed, Busta rarely, if ever, spoke to Fagan. He was by no means elated or amused by this defeat of his cousin.
This is borne out five years later on December 20, 1949 when Norman Manley turned the tables in the second general election by defeating Fagan.
“We were at Winty’s Shanty (Busta’s election headquarters) in Mocho,” writes Bustamante’s close friend, Vivian Durham, “when two scribes from The Gleaner , Trueman and Trottman, came over and broke the news to Busta that his party had won a second term.”
Busta immediately asked how is Manley doing, to which Trottman replied, “Manley is safe in his constituency and leading comfortably in all the boxes opened, with only a handful left”. Bustamante then joyfully exclaimed, “Thank God he has won.”
Would be that our present generation of party diehards could learn from this example of genuine love and respect between rivals for the leadership crown.
Lance Neita is a public relations professional, author, and historian. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com [2] and lanceneita@hotmail.com [3].