Jabu cannot contain his excitement. It is bulging in his pants and twitching in his fingers. His dreadlocks are growing faster with anticipation. His excitement is utterly unruly. It is as unbridled as Morgan’s libido during the trippy GNU. It is a heady mix of anxiety, possibility and raging testosterone. The Harare International Festival of Every Rasta Gets a White Girl (HIFER) starts in a short while and Jabu, like a Tippers hooker on payday Friday, is excited the fuck.
“Chinenge chakachaya mdhara!” Is what he has to say about it.
“It is our time to shine Ras. We live in the carnal margins for most of the year. True, we have Rasta Cafe, Rasta Society and Alliance Rastas to alleviate thirst. These are slim pickings though.”
Despite the gloomy economic outlook, White Girls are partying up a storm on weekends!
Not the local white girls of course.
“We don’t like those ones.”
“We like the exchange students and the NGO staffers. They are extremely “open to things”.”
As we continue our interview, certain details emerge. The number of dreadlocked artists has grown substantially in recent years and this has presented numerous challenges to Jabu and his brethren. The Rasta: White Girl Ratio (R: W) has steadily become unmanageable. Thirst has reared its ugly head. Strict Rastafarianism advocates for peace and inity. And yet, even with these high numbers of Rastas, there has been no conflict over these scarce White girls.
“How has this been achieved?” I enquire earnestly, because I know Rasta libido, that roaring Lion of Judah, is a feared and loved beast of randy infamy.
Jabu is a bit reluctant to share details of the inner workings of this highly secretive section of our population, but, with HIFER looming, he is feeling generous.
“What we have done is form organisations which individual Rastas join and then these organisations register with the mother body. Kinda like the ZCTU before it lost the plot. This way, each organisation has a set of events and venues which its members attend, to ensure no clashes and a delectable R: W.”
I’n’I are impressed so I press on for more details. Jabu pauses a bit. Feeling guilty for his bitchy betrayal I guess. I pick up the HIFER Programme on the table and nonchalantly wave it in his face. “Swatting a fly” is what I’ll say if he asks. This works. His eyes light up. He carries on:
“Well, first are the “Handy Rastas”. These fellows are the craftsmen. They are the wood and stone sculptors, the weavers, the painters, the makers of all sorts of artefacts. In ways, one can say these are the original urban Rastas. They were the trailblazers and paved the way for us all to get White Girl fanny. They are not in vogue these days though.
There are the “Penny Rastas”. Quite when writers decided to grow dreadlocks remains a mystery to us. What we do know though, is that these are the young writers, who are getting published locally and some are winning international awards. This group also includes poets, of both the written and the spoken word! They are a “firm” favourite with the middle-aged White Girls. These and the Handy Rastas have their own niche mature groupies. Amandla, awethu!”
And then we get to the interesting bits. This is where the libido rages hottest. The younger organisations. The more visible at the music events and on the stage. The blokes who get the White girls all hot and bothered.
What does Ras Jabu have to say about this set? Glad you asked.
“Rastas Pon Di Mic” as distinct but similar to “Rastas Pon Di Beat”. The former are the vocalists and will sing and chant on stage, all the while squinting past the stage lights to pick out Miss Germany dancing way out of tune and waving her frizzy attempt at dreadlocks all over the show. He picks her out. She’s on some, well, if I can’t get Jared Leto, well, let me get Jah Ghetto instead. The latter, the Rastas Pon Di Beat, well they play the instruments. These blokes have all the time in the show to strut their stuff. Even the bass player knows chances of getting laid are high. So weird. So funny. So extra. Aluta Continua.
Special mention must be made of the “Rasta Nhemamusasa” aka “Rastas Pon Di Mbira”. They get bonus points with the White Girls because they play an exotic instrument which makes the girls feel they are getting more in touch with Africa. Hehehe..
“Neo-Rastas” are the blokes with the dreadlocks so tiny they cannot technically be called dreadlocks. They have these squiggly little worms on their scalps and they think this gives them access to Miss Becky. They lose. All day they lose.
““Rastas Sans Frontieres” have been categorised but they are not really an organisation. They are the problematic individuals who have no particular trade, are not artists, and just come by waving their silly dreadlocks around thinking they can get laid. We expose them.” Vanobvongodza muto.”
Collectively, all these affiliated organisations of dreadlock bwoys are known as “MaRasta epaTown”.
And Ras TK, as Chairman of MaRasta epaTown says about the Caucasian delicacies at HIFER:
“Fat ones, thin ones, old ones, young ones, ah we take them all comrade. All of them. We like them. They are delicious. And they can buy you a alcohol again. They can give you a visa futi!”