A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose
March 27th, 2008A very good book! Get a copy.
Now on Oprah’s Book Club! Off The Edge by Opio Yaw Asante
November 25th, 2007
More about Opio Yaw Asante at
www.jamaica50.com/html/about_artist.html
NOW THAT HEADLINE WOULD BE JUST NICE - CAN YOU HELP?
Off The Edge is an action thriller mixed with romance and suspense. It sensitively describes the picturesque sceneries and reggae culture of Jamaica.
Back of novel
Ivor Mansong, a descendant of the Maroons of Nanny Town, Jamaica, saw that the battle for paradise, fought by the Maroons, was far from over. After being caught up in the middle of a shootout that left him close to death, Ivor’s life had taken a new direction. Being among the first of the highly charged Sea Wasps, trained in military techniques perfected by the US Navy Seals, Ivor found himself at the firing line of the fight against illegal firearms and cocaine trade in the western Caribbean. After losing the woman he loved and being close to the edge, Ivor saw the need to change direction once more.
excerpt from OFF THE EDGE
November 18th, 2007Lining the street in front of the recreation center at 7pm on Rodney Street, were higglers selling consumables of all descriptions. Busy hands flipped jerked pork, chicken and fish over sizzling coal as the selector flicked his musical wrists to shouts of ‘lick it back’. Jellymen swiped the tops of jelly coconuts and stripped the peel from sugar canes more skilfully than the swords of Zorro. Red Stripes and Dragon Stouts began to flow like Dunns River Falls as the crowd sang the chorus to Leroy Smart’s “Ballistic Affair” - Throw way you gun, throw way you knife. Let us all unite. Everyone is living in fear, just through this ballistic affair.
Hand shakes performed with sincere vigor and warm broad smiles exchanged - it was time for the MP to race to his third appointment for the day. On came the lights in the dance hall to sounds of disapproval from intimate quarters. Two intermingling officers commanded a clear path through the hall. Other officers on the peripheral of the building held M16 rifles chest high as they scan the pockets of crowd and distant shadows on the lawn for unwelcomed movements.
An officer in the hall opened the door to the guest hall and signaled to his counterpart on the other side. Waves from the MP were reciprocated as he hastened towards the exit and his car.
Suddenly, rapid firing thundered in from the middle and far street end of the playground. Screams and shouts erupted as revelers dashed themselves to the ground. M16 fires replied in quick successions. The MP lay on the floor covered by two bodyguards. More M16 firing from officers in the street focused at the spots that lit up with gunfire seconds before.
One officer and a number of civilians lay motionless next to the MP, still blanketed by his bodyguards. Sporadic gunfire came from the dark…from the guns of the retreating gang. Officers pursued the gang, who fled towards Calvary Cemetery. Backup was called for in the midst of the ensuing gunfire.
Ivor was standing next to the main entrance to the recreation building talking with Michael and his friends when the firing started. Everyone panicked and, in a split second, Ivor found himself on the floor, being trampled on. He thought his heart had given up under the crushing weight of fully-grown adults scrambling through the door. The initial firing continued for about three minutes before it gradually moved away from the playground.
Crowds of people hurried from the building towards the gate and started to disperse along the streets, others called out for friends and loved ones. Ivor got onto his feet and squeezed into the building searching for Michael, who was nowhere to be seen. Ivor inspected his body by sweeping his hands across his clothes; everything seemed to be OK with him. He shouted Michael’s name a few times, coughing intermittently from a combination of the choking smell of discharged cartridges and the stampede, but most of those who were left behind were also shouting for loved ones. It was total chaos.
Moving towards the entrance of the building once more Ivor met up with a small group running back into the building. Not wanting to be trapped inside, he forced himself through the crowd and stopped just outside the entrance. A heavy pulsing sound came across the top of the building nailing him to the spot. The helicopter turned facing Ivor. Its extremely blinding light forced him back against the front of the building. A loudspeaker from the helicopter commanded everyone on the ground to lay face down. Patrol car lights flashed on the street, as more police cars converged on the playground. After much activity, the helicopter ceased hovering and sped off in the direction of the cemetery.
A lorry pulled up and emptied its load of blue suited armed officers. There seemed to be more police than civilians now. The crowd was forcefully ordered back into the building. As Ivor turned towards the entrance, he noticed about four bodies on the ground, motionless. A group of soldiers took particular interest in two bodies about halfway between the building and the street. It was at that moment that Ivor saw Michael walking towards the building - he seemed OK. More sirens sounded as an ambulance moved around the other vehicles and pulled into the driveway.
Growing up in Jamaica
November 11th, 2007Nine-year-old Ivor’s journey to Kingston is an excerpt from Opio Asante’s novel, Off the Edge.
The horn of the bus from Nanny Town to Kingston sounded in the distance, and the teamwork started in locking the windows and doors, and ensuring all fires were out. Granny reached for her bags and the house keys from the top of the “whatnot” and Ivor waited by the front door with her sculpted guinep-wood walking stick. They hurried down the steep narrow steps, down the unpaved path between the bright red, yellow and purple Croton plants on both sides, sugar canes, a number of mango trees, towards the opening that housed a gate years before.
The small Leyland bus waited on the opposite side of the road. Duke, the driver knew it was Ta Mildred’s shopping day and he dared not leave her. The audience of passengers rocked with laughter as Granny maneuvered around and over the mounds and rocks in her path, strategically placing her walking stick in familiar slots to stabilize herself from Ivor’s tugs, as with excitement he guided her to the worn tarmac and the bus. Granny paused a few seconds to catch breath, before the conductor pulled her up the steps, with Ivor pushing at her bottom to lever her as she mustered the last ounce of energy to claim her seat opposite Duke. Ivor’s seat was a makeshift seat abridging the gap between Ta Mildred’s seat and the gearbox. This was the prime position, because Ivor could see the road ahead without obstruction. He could also see every move that Duke made in taking the bus over, round and down the winding road towards the coastal plains below.
The sun was high in the sky at about ten o’clock, casting sharp shadows that rushed towards Ivor inducing a hypnotic state. Above, Ivor marveled at the light blue sky through the rushing leaves and branches, and the tops of steep virgin mountains on both sides metamorphosing into rugged coffee hills, then gentler slopes adorned with patchworks of green foliage. The spiky effect of coconut leaves exploded in all directions, broad sheltering structures of banana leaves reached for the skies and wiry yam vines coiled spontaneously around wooden poles, standing erect like soldiers called to attention.
After about an hour through the interior, the bus approached Port Antonio and the Caribbean Sea. From Port Antonio the journey proceeded westward along the coast through Norwich, Snow Hill and St. Margaret’s Bay towards Hope Bay.
Ivor’s interest now focused on the small town that was once his home. He looked at every face on the streets, pavements, in shops and houses to see how many he could recognize; paying particular interest to children whom might have been his peers in school. Ivor could point out a number of pedestrians and got up with excitement when he saw a boy and his sister, who were his neighbors. A sharp clip around the ears, from Granny, abruptly brought him back to the present, and his bottom in swift re-engagement with the seat.
The bus stopped at the crossroads town center for about five minutes, exchanged passengers, and was on its way again. By the coast could be seen fishing boats, small hut like shops selling fried fish, bammies and festivals, and Rastafarian flags next to stalls selling wooden carvings, baskets, hats and cooking utensils. Further along were children splashing at the point where the waves break. Ivor thought he knew some of the boys, but dared not move forward for a closer look, it might not have mattered though, as Granny Mildred was nodding so low, she nearly displaced the windscreen with her “rose and mesh” hat.
Ivor shook her, ‘Granny, wake up, mine you buck out the glass.’
Granny did not need a second warning.
Along with Ta Mildred, one other human had a profound effect on Ivor’s tender age, and the bus approaching his workshop. Zamba Zoola was the most creative and inventive person Ivor had encountered. Among his many achievements were, a large motorboat for deep-sea fishing he built from wood, numerous paintings and sculptures, the most exquisite furniture perfectly finished in various wood finishes or upholstered in a range of fabric or leather. Ivor lived opposite Zamba’s workshop and spent his holidays, evenings and weekends being inspired and indulging in creative pursuits.
Not only was Zamba creative in the physical sense, he was also a bit of a philosopher and the funniest storyteller in town. Zamba Zoola was a Rastafarian, and a member of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. He often organized huge excursions where hundreds of like-minded men, women and children, would swamp the beaches and streets of the little town, for the whole weekend. The local community center would reverberate with the drum and base of roots reggae music, African drumming and chanting. Unfortunately, there was no activity in the workshop that morning.
Hope Bay was now behind as the bus rocked, turned and leaned, sometimes almost on its sides as it answered all the questions asked of it by Duke, also known as “de road hog”. They passed Black Hill, Orange Bay and Spring Garden before entering Buff Bay, the second largest town in Portland. After Buff Bay, there was no breathing room in the bus. Ivor had about six bags in his lap, placed there by standing passengers swaying reluctantly to the motion of the bus, some complaining that their feet were not touching the ground. It is an understatement to say that Saturday mornings are very busy on all routes to Kingston.
The vegetation changed once more as they passed a large banana plantation adjoining an even larger sugar plantation once subdued by the expanse of its “not so great anymore” house on the hill. At this point the sea was no longer visible, as the bus journeyed again towards the interior. After a number of towns, twists and turns through the mountains, sparkling streams, and countless stops, Duke entered Kingston, the big capital city of Jamaica.
Ourstory Art Exhibition
October 14th, 2007Description: Ourstory art exhibition to commemorate the 200th year of the Abolition of the Slave Trade Act, opens with a Preview Reception on Thursday, 4 October at 6pm at The Gallery, Willesden Library Centre. Special guests include the High Commissioner of Jamaica, His Excellency Mr Burchell Whiteman and Ms Dawn Butler, MP for Brent South. The exhibition continues until 3 November. Ourstory is a thought-provoking exhibition of paintings and sculptures by the artist Opio Yaw Asante (aka Horace Donovan) that celebrates UK’s Black History Month and Jamaica’s National Heroes Day. The exhibition is a visual record of people, memories, thoughts and dreams. It aims to heighten awareness of African and Jamaican culture and the impact they have had around the world. There will be a series of tie-in events to support the Ourstory exhibition. On Monday, 15 October; Jamaica’s National Heroes Day, there will be a workshop at 10am and 1.30pm for secondary school students on Exploring and Celebrating National Heroes of Jamaica facilitated by Paul Aiken of Evwreni Production. At 7.30pm, there will be a workshop on the “Legacy and Contributions of the Maroons” with Pam Fraser Solomon an award winning producer-director working in radio, television and film. Kevin McLaughlin will provide musical entertainment. On the 31 October from 6.00 – 8.00pm, there will be a workshop for adults on Jamaican Heroes and the Caribbean Presence in Britain with Paul Aiken.
Times: Oct 04 - Nov 02, Tues to Thurs 2pm - 7pm, Fri to Mon 2pm - 6pm
Phone: 020 8885 5043
Email: opio.ja50@yahoo.com
Reviews
Opio Yaw Asante (aka Horace Donovan) is an undiscovered treasure within the art world. This exhibition is a culmination of many years of hard work, self discovery and gaining an understanding of many facets of art.
He is an artist of immeasurable talents who is able to both paint and sculpt images, whether they be real or imaginary, to a standard of excellence that is yet to be surpassed. His use of colours literally takes your breath away and lures you into the world that he seeks to create through his artistry.
He has used his talents to great effect to make people more aware and appreciative of Black History and Black People’s contribution to British Society. There is not doubt in my mind that someday soon, his brilliance will be recognised and that his works will be appreciated and valued highly.
- Hugh Wade, London
This was a very enjoyable exhibition charting the progression of an artist as well as commemorating an important event in history.
Well worth a visit.
- Ms Dunkley, London
Thoughts
July 20th, 2007Failure - You fail only when you stop trying
I am invincible - I carry the combined achievements of my parents, my family and my ancestors with me - I know that I am invincible, I can not fail!!!
God - God is the creative force in the universe, which has given mankind the power to rule over his destiny. Man can use that power to do good or to do evil.
Liberation - To liberate the potential of your mind, body and soul, you must first expand your imagination
Happiness is passion is success - The secret of happiness is finding out what you truly love to do and then direct all your energy towards doing it well. If it improves or in some way serves the lives of others, success is a must
Independence 2012 Reunion
June 14th, 2007 
CELEBRATE 50 YEARS OF JAMAICA’S INDEPENDENCE
It is time to start locating all those long lost friends and start planning the biggest reunion ever. Just post a note with the full names of your friends that you want to get into contact with, what school they attended and where they lived. Remember to leave your full name, the school you attended, years attended and your email address, etc. Leave a short message. Click on comments below.
Approaching fifty years of independence
May 20th, 2007
African Philosophy And Its Value In Contemporary Jamaican Society.
Opio Yaw Asante
As Jamaica approaches fifty years of independence in 2012, the greatest concern of the nation is crime. In a society where a large number of its young people are becoming desensitised and traumatised by the crime around them, it seems to me that something is not working. It is, therefore, time for us as a nation to do a serious analytical investigation into the social systems that colonialism has left us, and find new alternatives. People of African descent in the Caribbean have survived great atrocities in chattel slavery, while others perished and were even wiped out. We need to identify the characteristics and values that we carried with us from Africa that enabled us to withstand and overcome that dark period in our history.
I would like to look at one area of African Philosophy, which I think, if understood and utilised, could be an effective contribution in reinstating good values into our society and particularly among our young people. Before I go further, I must state that this might be a controversial topic for some of us who treat the topic of African traditions as a taboo. Most Jamaicans stay well clear of anything to do with Traditional African Philosophy, because of the negative stigma that surrounds it. A Jamaican just has to say “obeah” and the response will either be fear, ridicule or indifference – and rightly so. Traditional African Philosophy is closely associated with indigenous African religion and indigenous African religion is associated with obeah. Obeah is the use of spirits (ghosts) to do evil – witchcraft. I believe that obeah is effective to those that believe in it. The important word here is “believe”. All original cultures of the world believe in the supernatural. Most Jamaicans are Christians and what would Christianity be without belief in the supernatural? Christianity is also the largest religion in the world by far. Belief is the second strongest element of the human mind - the first is knowledge. Believing in the supernatural is the foundation of the indigenous African society. The Akan religion in Ghana and the Ivory Coast, believe in an all-powerful God who was out of the reach of mortal man. Man therefore needed intermediaries to reach God. These intermediaries are the spirits. The ancestors are the good relatives, who have died and gone on to join the spirits. Not everyone that dies becomes an ancestor. Ancestors were citizens of high moral standing who in death become intermediaries and act on their descendants’ behalf. Ghosts are evil spirits while the ancestors are good spirits. The ancestors are believed to be still with the community and are still active in the life of the community. This becomes a belief, as over time, there will be no one alive who personally knew the ancestors (when they were alive). For example, no one alive today has physically met or knew Paul Bogle, but we believe and know from written records that he existed. Africans taught about their ancestors from childhood education straight through to adulthood. They celebrate them through initiation rites, ceremonies, stories, songs, dances, at work, at play and through all aspects of life. Through all these forms, the ancestors stay alive and continue to teach, inspire, lead, guide and protect their descendants. When we cease to acknowledge and celebrate our ancestors they are eventually forgotten and that is when they die.
We hear the proverb – belief kill an’ belief cure. This was and still is a fact in many African cultures that are not over-run by Western thought. In these communities, their belief is their reality. They believe in good and evil and they believe that evil will be punished. This belief/reality is tied up intrinsically with the ancestors and the spirits. Friends from Ghana conveyed to me what their elders told them. Before modern Christianity went to Africa, if someone stole your property, the elders would call the community together and ask for the property to be returned within a given period, or there would be serious consequences. The property would be returned because every individual in the community believed in the power of the ancestors to punish evil. Being the opposite of the evil spirits in obeah the ancestors contribute to the development of order among their families and their communities – they are role models.
With the replacement of indigenous religions with the European brand of Christianity in Africa, it was taught that if you have done something wrong, ask Jesus for forgiveness, and then believe or have faith that you are forgiven and the wrong you did would be wiped away. Now people steal and do all manner of evil and escape punishment. Within this process, the African ancestors have lost their power. It becomes too easy for the wrongdoer to escape punishment and the order within the African universe is turned on its head, so now there exist confusion and lawlessness. The strength of the African belief system is destroyed.
In the work of Kwasi Wiredu, a Ghanaian philosopher, entitled “Toward Decolonising African Philosophy and Religion”, he says the following: ‘Where two religions are in question, in this case, the indigenous African religion and Christianity, the suggestion that religion is a matter of faith is clearly incapable of explaining a preference of one over the other. Moreover, ordinary common sense dictates that one should not jettison what is one’s own in favour of what has come from abroad for no reason at all. It is, accordingly, difficult to see the faith defence as anything other than the rationalisation of an intellectual inertia born of an early subjection to evangelism, that is to say, a colonised condition of the mind.’
My understanding is that the evidence proves that indigenous African religious beliefs have served the African community well in the past. What can we learn from this? What is the value of African Philosophy in contemporary Jamaican society?
I think it starts with that little word, belief. As we approach fifty years of independence, we need to resurrect belief in our nation and belief in our youths. Belief starts in the mind and can grow into something stronger, which can transform lives. I will explain this by looking at one of our ancestors and National Heroes – Honourable Marcus Mosiah Garvey. Marcus was an ordinary child who started as a thought in his parents’ minds. Through self-belief that was painstakingly developed into self-knowledge, he grew to be a powerful world leader. If we did not have the history books to teach us the Garvey story, we would not believe that one Jamaican could have had the impact that he has had throughout the African world and especially in the USA, at a time when Black people were hanged for being black. Now in death, Marcus Garvey has reached more people than he could have ever reached alive and has given us self-belief. That is the power of our ancestors – to bring belief to their descendants, which can ultimately lead to self-knowledge. We Jamaicans have seven National Hero ancestors, but we have thousands of family and community Ancestors. They are not with us physically, but they have a duty to us that is even more important than when they were alive. They are extending their hands to us to connect us to our higher selves and the God within us. They are our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, etc. – our blueprints.
How can you keep your Ancestors alive and make them of value to you? Teach the good values and respect that you have learnt from your Ancestors to your children, and show the same to your family and everyone you meet.
If your Ancestor had made a valuable contribution to the community, organise a fun programme for the community in their memory.
Think of your Ancestors constantly and feel their presence. Always remember the good things they have done for you. Hear their voices motivating you and do not only believe but know that they are still doing the good things they once did in your life. They are alive in your memory and in your life.
Speak to your Ancestors just as you did when they were physically with you and hear their reply. They always care for you and would never give you any advice that would hurt you.
Speak about your Ancestors with your family (especially your children) and friends. Feel their presence and see their smiles.
Celebrate your Ancestors’ special day (birthday, etc) by having a special meal with family members or by yourself. Feel the presence of the Ancestor with you. Make a pledge to follow your Ancestors’ good example in everything you do. Keep on display in your home, photographs or something of your Ancestors to keep them alive and make them welcome.
Use and protect the property and things that your Ancestors have left you with respect, as you would have done if they were physically here.
Keep in mind at all times that our homeland, Jamaica, has survived only through the blood, sweat and tears of our Ancestors and God working within them and through them.
I have many ancestors who inspire me, but I have chosen two Ancestors who teach, inspire and guide me. My family Ancestor is my Aunt who I grew with and my community Ancestor is the Hon Marcus Mosiah Garvey. These Ancestors speak to me constantly and I see their faces, their smiles and their tears. My Aunt, through her quiet determination, my many memories of her and the difference she has made in my life. Marcus Garvey, through his words of wisdom, his duty to others and his steadfastness even in the most difficult of circumstances.
If each child was given one ancestor at birth and the values of that ancestor is impressed on that child’s mind. As that child experiences success in her/his growing up that is inspired by her/his personal ancestor, pop-stars and criminals might cease to be such strong role models. The ancestor is the foundation of African Philosophy. It is only the foundation, but we all know that a building is only as strong as its foundation.
We reap what we sow!
