This book definitely provided a learning experience,
especially with regard to the origins and beliefs of Rastafari. I did not previously know that the Rasta
revered Haile Selassie, the former emperor of Ethiopia, who staved off
Mussolini’s invasion and ruled the only African country never colonized. In fact, the word Rastafari comes from Haile
Selassie’s name prior to becoming emperor, which was Ras Tafari Makonnen. I also did not know that Rastafari is very
paternalistic, and women are definitely second-class citizens whose main
function is to serve men. The author
grew up in a Rasta household in Jamaica where, fortunately, education was
encouraged. She, along with her brother
and two sisters, were very bright and excelled in school, largely due to their
mother’s love of books and learning.
Safiya’s father was a musician whose extreme distaste for all things
foreign still did not prevent him from regularly performing covers of Bob
Marley songs in the tourist hotels. He,
however, did not extend acceptance of non-Rasta influences to the rest of his
family. At one point, Safiya opted to
forego an opportunity for a modeling contract in the U.S., because she feared
her father’s ire if she cut her dreadlocks.
And well she should, because his temper tantrums were horrific. Plus, the scoundrel shamelessly flaunted his
girlfriends in front of his family. I
was very frustrated that Safiya continued to return to Jamaica following
several trips to the U.S. where she went to college on scholarship and achieved
recognition for her poetry. Her need for
her father’s approval, which seemed to be unattainable, made me think of a
battered wife who finds it impossible to leave her tormentor. As in many of those cases, Safiya also needed
his financial support. This bleak memoir
was painful to read, not only because of what Safiya and her siblings went
through, but also because their father never suffered any consequences for his
actions.