By Vinette K. Pryce
I first met Miss Lou when she lived in the tiny, country, village of Susumba Walk. She was known then as Louisita Carmelita Jenkins. Her domestic arrangement found her sharing the same space with a man she referred to as Mas Ran.

On our initial meeting she sounded his name in an affectionate manner…”Ran, Ran.” She used her charm to lure him for a beating she thought he deserved. A flat-board was waiting to whip discipline into his being whenever he erred. Ranny Williams embodied the character and knew his demise. Always in hiding, Ran Ran stuttered with explanation she knew he had concocted for excuse.

He had gotten himself involved with a scheme Miss Lou would disapprove and therefore eluded her. From my Kingston home, I laughed without restraint. It was a radio program but more so, theater of the mind. I tuned to the only Jamaican radio station at the time and was being entertained by an icon, a cultural ambassador and the matriarch of our Jamaican society. I was a small child but that was definitely my first introduction to theatre. She forced me to use my imagination in ways I don’t recall now or then. Her real name was Louise Simone Bennett. Like me, she was only child. Like her, I also attended Excelsior High School.
She had many characters.

Although she was well-spoken from an educated background, and also respected by the upper colonial echelon of the time, her African roots did not seem to elude her mission. In front of British colonizers, this patriot, nationalist and revolutionary, often hailed “the dark continent,” things Jamaican and the uniqueness of every Jamaican – from higgler to those positioned in high society cliques. She was a poet.

She rhymed with reason about things Jamaican, things foreign and simple things. She was a teacher. She taught the children how to play Ring Ding. She taught words like “boonoonoonus, boogoyagga and without preaching taught Jamaicans to appreciate the red, bandana cloth some related to be “market cloth.” Back then, the cloth was relegated to be fabric of higglers selling in Coronation Market in Kingston. She wore it with pride, dressing from head to ankle in it’s distinctive pattern. She used John Crow beads top accessorize. She was a storyteller.

She seemed to conquer a unique style of explaining colonization, independence, immigration and other topics. When she talked about Miss Matty she conjured an image that was distinctly Jamaican. From our first encounter, I was transfixed with her vernacular. The patois dialect, under-rated and denounced as unacceptable was her chosen means of communication.
When she described scenarios she went from bad to “wussarer.” How she described “macka,” the prickly vine that society pursed their lips to reference was nothing short of accurate in Jamaica terms. Miss Lou’s reference to “nyam” seemed natural to the masses as a way of saying “eat.” Yet the West African word was scorned for public usage. At times, this only child included relatives in her village in order to expand her family circle.

Aunty Roti gave clarity to common situations. It was that same aunt that exposed the hypocrisy of “Jamaicans coming home for vacation.” She poked fun at “never-see-come-see personalities she said adopted a foreign twang after a brief visit to the UK or the USA. She observed them in the early ‘50’s and to her keen sensibilities, those personalities still exist in 2006. Aunty Roti seemed the ideal family member to call attention to returning Jamaicans who left the island for long periods returning without refinement. Louise Bennett was Jamaica’s first celebrated entertainer. She was the island’s first celebrity.

Listening to her on radio became routine. I first saw her at downtown Kingston’s Ward Theater when she starred in “Busha Bluebeard,” the holiday Pantomime that begins on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. She was the focus that year. In fact, I hardly remember any of the storyline. Much of the theatrics eluded my young understanding. It was one of those traditions my mother engaged me as a youngster – Pantomime was a must-see. However, I do recall the magical staging. The music, the laughter, and yes, Miss Lou lingers as the initial motivator of my theatrical awareness which probably filtered through to find me a theatre critic for some of the leading Broadway and Off-Broadway productions in New York.  Another production she reigned was “Queenie’s Daughter.” It was her pride.  She was Queenie. The role was her favorite, she said.

It gave her joy she told actress Leonie Forbe’s who portrayed her daughter. Her hearty laugh, endearing personality and warm association affected the nation. This woman, this mother culture, this child of the universe, spoke volumes in phrases. Imagine her saying: “rain a fall but the dutty tuff.” It was she who first uttered those words to appreciation in a Jamaica festival setting. Bob Marley borrowed the words for his song, “Dem Belly Full.”

She was musical. “Dis long time gal mi neva see U, come mek mi hol’ you han’.” “Chi Chi Bud” Come we go bruk rock stone,” “Mosquito One…” Appealing to the elite and the masses, Miss Lou defined Jamaica like no other. According to Jamaica’s south east representative to the United States, Consul General Ricardo Allicock “more than Marcus Garvey and Bob Marley,” Louise Bennett promoted Jamaica, the little, Caribbean island that nurtured her.
She performed for Queen Elizabeth II and scores of other dignitaries.

She was lecturer, a folklorist, appeared in the movie “Club Paradise” in 1986 and received Jamaica’s highest award, the Order of Jamaica. On Sept. 19, 1985, I saw her at the Brooklyn Museum. After a hilarious performance, she gave me autographed copies of two of her books, “Jamaica Labbrish” and “Selected Poems.” She moved to Toronto, Canada but traveled extensively throughout the world promoting Jamaica. In 2003, I visited Jamaica where the gracious ambassador was celebrated and regaled by her country. I saw a grateful nation turn out by the thousands to see her at Emancipation Park in Kingston. At the Little Theatre, crowds stood outside while VIPs packed the tiny space to hail her lifelong contribution to Jamaican.
Hot as it was that morning, the alum of Excelsior High School graciously greeted everyone who approached her. And in her simple way, she yielded profoundness with simplicity. Wishing everyone well, she often said farewell with the classic phrase: “Walk Good.”
Eighty-six year-old, Miss Lou died in Toronto, Canada on Jul. 26, 2006.

Here in New York, on a Wednesday, the news spread throughout the boroughs with urgency.
I was alerted by a phone call from Florida. After listening to sketchy news bytes, I rushed to my computer to find emails from Canada, England and Jamaica.  At 10 p.m. Gary Byrd called from WLIB-AM to talk about the icon. He repeated an interview he did with her on her birthday last year. She sang her own birthday greetings and invited the radio personality to sing along.
Reflections from listeners gave solace to admirers who had either seen or heard her in Jamaica, or knew her from her writings or recorded works. Thursday, Ron Burke of Mystik radio in south Florida delighted his listeners with reflection from her proteges Mutabaruka, Oliver Samuels, Charles Hyatt, and others. Early Saturday morning, Habte Selassie dedicated his long-standing WBAI-FM talk show “Labbrish” to the memory of the beloved thespian and educator. Throughout the next week, the passing of the legendary, grand dame of Jamaica will register. On Thursday, public rites will be said in her adopted home. There she remains Hon. Louise Bennett-Coverley.

Here in New York, the public will be able to sign their names in a book the Jamaica Consulate will provide. Jamaican Consulates around the world will also do the same. A state funeral is planned in Jamaica to honor the matriarch. “You know that Mas’ Ran will be singing ‘dis long time gal mi neva see you, come mek mi hol’ you han’,” Burke said. Needless to say, her husband Eric Coverley will be singing too. Walk Good, Miss Lou.
 
 
Walk good Miss Lou.