Goodbye Mister Fish 'n' CHIPS: TV chef [Ainsley Harriott] is bringing the. joys of Caribbean cuisine to the nation "I love Caribbean cookery and I think it's very important to get that message across because a lot of Afro-Caribbean people have been living here for almost a generation now," says Ainsley, who lives in south London with his Yorkshire wife Claire and their children Jimmy, 6, and Madeleine, 3. Ainsley is to some the saviour we have been waiting for. The Good Food Show special events steward, Tony Wright, called him "phenomenal" staing: "That's the only word I can use. As soon as Ainsley did ackee and saltfish, I said, `Yes!'. He didn't do the traditional stuff. He did something Caribbean."
It ran for more than six years and playing one of [Desmond]'s barbershop cronies was a highlight of [Ram John Holder]'s long career. "It only had half of the audience of Desmond's, but it had much bigger audiences than the shows they replaced it with." In it, the colourful and exuberant traditions of Trinidad's Carnival provide the setting for a stage event which transforms Handel's Messiah into an musical combining song, dance and spectacle with the spirit of Caribbean storytelling.
Watching Caryl Phillips' excellent The Final Passage was a difficult process. Not just because it was a brilliant exploration of the last 30 years or so, showing the achievements and limitations of the Windrush generation, but, more importantly, because it exposed how we have been starved of intelligent, well-made Black programmes which offer us the possibility of serious reflection on our condition in this country. Phillips achieves a wonderful thing in his drama - he converts all our individual stories of moving to Britain and setting up home into a mass celebration of common history. The Final Passage thus becomes a template of sorts of the recent beginnings of Black Britain. Whether we are from an African or Caribbean background, there were scenes and emotions which we all recognised from our own histories. Control Many people didn't like The Final Passage because they felt that it yet again reinforced the negative view of Black men. But they need to be reminded that this is a work of fiction, not reality. And Caryl Phillips' main achievement in the series is to give us, in [Michael], the first truly great tragic-heroic Black character on British television. The lessons of his life should resonate in our time - a sort of angled mirror. He will remain a constant reminder of the need to bury the `colonial creation' - the Black man who is only able to manifest himself through his dreams rather than through the reality of day-to-day action.
"I wanted to write a play that celebrated the journey of our parents," explains [Kwame Kwei-Armah]. "A lot of the previous plays tell us the old, grey story about `No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish,' but that isn't very entertaining. "Growing up, I had a big nose but when Afrocentricty came in the '80s suddenly I had an African nose," recalls Kwame. "[Chris Monks] is White and together we have a play that is accessible to all communities," says Kwame. "It's not just about Black issues, it deals with universal themes like love, feeling inadequate and beauty."
"Nothing can bring back those days," Mrs [Letitia Rose] declared. "Everything has changed. Nowadays, I don't bother to do a lot of shopping because it is not as enjoyable." "The party was usually held in a big park," she recalled. "There would be lots of food and music playing until late into the night. While the big people danced we used to have our little secret boyfriends and a group of us would to go off and play hide and seek. "As children in Jamaica, we used to organise parties and collect gifts for needy children in the community," said [Iris Gordon], who helped set up the Jamaica Heart Foundation. "Making children happy is what I enjoy most about this time of the year."
I don't believe this is because cricket is an inferior game. But, in the eyes of the punters, football rules. This is true, not only in Britain but also in the Caribbean. I was therefore surprised that Channel 4 felt it could cash in on the enthusiasm shown for the Reggae Boyz by putting on a concert at Lords. West Indies tours to Britain in the '60s, '70s and '80s served a much wider purpose that went beyond hearing leather on willow. For those of us oppressed in the context of slavery and colonialism, the black body was something to be despised. It was particularly important for the Windrush generation and during the '50s and '60s, when the factory and the street were open season for racists.
Many have blamed the Windies' decline on the MTV generation, who are more interested in American basketball than cricket. And cricketers, although still idolised in the Caribbean, would never earn the amounts of Michael Jordan or Shaquille O'Neal. In this sense, James placed cricket on the same level as Western literature. "We live in one world," he wrote in a 1969 essay, "and we have to find out what is taking place in the world. And I, a man of the Caribbean, have found that it is in the study of Western literature, Western philosophy and Western history that I have found out the things that I have found out, even about the underdeveloped countries." Throughout his life James viewed cricket as a means of helping unite a disparate set of islands, of establishing a Caribbean as opposed to an island mentality. He had little difficulty in understanding why Norman Tebbit should make cricket the basis of his loyalty test - or why most black people would fail it.
The irony of the black man with his top off - such as almost any black music star you care to mention - is that it doesn't say to me: "Look at this wonderful black man with his six-pack." We were never wanted for our minds, which was why it was illegal to teach slaves to read. We were flesh, a commodity, labour. As today's black man shows off his pride and joy, the modern billboard becomes the equivalent of yesteryear's slave stocks. The tragedy with the flesh doesn't end there. Too many of us are impressed by a black fascism which fails to question the oppressive power structures of idealised family structures or the obsession with genes, blood and national pride.
Occasionally, a rare talent emerges, such as Lauryn Hill or Maxwell, whereas previously the talent came in hordes. Look at the way Lauryn Hill has gone back to Bob Marley and Stevie Wonder for inspiration and technique. She's still a rap artist but here is a woman who has learnt her trade. It's a question of feeling basically unsafe around a generation that has no respect for its elders.
This means that we must find ways of re-making and continuing the Caribbean traditions that our forefathers brought with them when they got off the Windrush. For me, there are three important lessons. The first is what I call the anatomy of Black existence; put simply, the understanding of the key factors that shape one's life. Second, the ability to take no nonsense, particularly from White people and, thirdly, a sense of humour. This cry is not just for schools to do more Black history. They are actually saying that they have no road map, no narrative structure of their existence in this world as Black people. They are disconnected from the strength and depth of those folks who travelled on the Windrush. It's as if they were orphans connected to no meaningful history or narrative other than the White structures around them. These people were spiritual, not in the religious sense with denominations and heavy moralising, but in the way they used the Judeo-Christian tradition in trying to understand the Black story. The most powerful and popular way in which this was expressed was through Rastafarianism. The second Windrush value is the power to get vex and fight racism. One thing I can say for certain in 1998 is that a disproportionately high number of Black males will die in police custody under suspicious circumstances. My parents told me after the Notting Hill riots in the '50s, White people realised `you don't mess with a West Indian'. Schools, the police and politicians must not be allowed to take us for granted.
