Legends of Ska

Back in 2008, I went to lunch in Kingston with Stranger Cole (above) and some fresh blood: two twentysomething guys from Puerto Rico (one drove like he was Mario Andretti, the other, a Rastarican, threw the comb away eight years earlier) and a rootsy French woman who was dating a German guy in a Reggae band.  More on them later.

Wilburn Theodore Cole, aka “Stranger” or “Stranjah,” is a very insightful, kind-hearted individual.  When he speaks, the sentences tend to be all over the place.  But Stranger has an interesting way of navigating his prose, which often times had me contemplating life’s deeper meanings.

I recall filming him in the entrance of a restaurant while we waited to be seated.  He remarked how even though many Jamaicans have many modern-day conveniences, such as cellular phones, cars & refrigerators, they are not any better off than in the old days.  Back in the early 1960s, people did not have much money or material possessions, but there were generally happy, with genuine camaraderie and optimism throughout the population.  Nowadays, everyone is stressed.

“Dat not good for the human,” he said.

While pausing the camera, I contemplated his remarks, but Stranger had moved on.  He was already eying the deserts behind the counter.

After lunch we drove across West Kingston to drop Stranger off at his home.  At one point, Super Mario had to swerve the car to avoid hitting some chickens in the road.  Stranger looked at it as a missed opportunity for a snack.  ”I love chicken’s foot,” he chimed in.

“But Stranger,” I called out from the back seat, “there is no meat on chicken’s feet, just cartilage and dirt.”

“Oh no.  You come to my place for dinner and I’ll cook you up some chicken foot dat you will never forget.  Mmm delicious.”

Then I pictured him as a smiling contestant on Iron Chef America, singing “Bangarang,” chopping up ackee and callaloo, while the chicken’s feet are marinating in a spicy jerk sauce.