“What is a rebel? A man who says no: but whose refusal does not imply a renunciation.” ~ Albert Camus.
I recently received a history lesson in a most entertaining way. I attended a performance of the musical ‘Bedward’ with only a slight knowledge of the character it portrayed, a true story of a man who inspired thousands in Jamaica and abroad, at the turn of the twentieth century. I knew the song that celebrated his acts of healing and conversion: “Dip them, Bedward, dip them, dip them in the healing stream…” and I had read some story about him deciding he could fly, but it turned out to be quite a different account.
You have to place his story in the context of post-emancipation Jamaica, a time when the enslaved people had been ‘freed’, but their economic plight was still severe. They had had to pay for the privilege of ‘apprenticeship’. In the four years which followed they had continued working for their former owners, in order to soften the financial blow of the loss of free labor. After that, conditions did not improve. Wages were low, and it was almost impossible for the emancipated people to buy their own land. The role of the church in these days was also questionable. In most cases, the church favored the land-owners over the formerly owned, and although Christianity was the religion, the message delivered was one which maintained the status quo, and relied on the verse: “Servants, be obedient to your masters…”
Alexander Bedward was born in the decade after Emancipation. In his twenties he went to Panama and, after working on the Panama Canal and observing the drastic difference in living conditions and wages for White American workers versus those of African heritage, returned to Jamaica and was baptized. He began to be known for his preaching and his healing (which included the ‘dip’ in the local Hope River), and his Revival style followers became known as Bedwardites. He associated with Paul Bogle (Baptist Preacher, leader of the Morant Bay Rebellion and a National Hero), and he, along with other ‘Native’ churches (where the preachers and congregation were descended from the formerly enslaved) grew in power and were seen as a threat by the ruling (mostly white or ‘Creole’) class.
The musical portrayed this tense situation in an engaging and at times comical way, so that the confrontation between Bedward and the establishment inspired laughter, and the audience enjoyed joining in the songs (‘Don’t trouble Bedward’). But as all good art should, it provoked thought and further reflection. Because at his height, with 60,000 followers, Bedward had claimed to be the Messiah, Jesus Christ himself, AND the Holy Ghost, and declared that he would ascend up to heaven, he provided the authorities with reason to closely monitor him. He also appeared to threaten insurrection, by organizing his followers to march upon Kingston.
He was ultimately tried and found incompetent by reason of insanity (the whole Messiah business came back to haunt him) and he spent the last years of his life in the local asylum. But his message, quite apart from being religious, was racially conscious, and he preached Black Power way before the Civil Rights era. He empowered and organized Black people, and sowed the seeds that later bloomed in Marcus Mosiah Garvey.
In an interesting coincidence, in one of the postings that appeared on my social media page, I read the story of a character of around the same time period, in New York City, Father Divine. He also led a huge flock, and founded the International Peace Mission movement which grew from a small, Black congregation into one which was multiracial and had international branches. He was an activist against lynching. Like Bedward, he was considered a cult leader and also considered himself to be God.
I find it interesting that there are so many stories of fascinating leaders that we miss out on, who are not included in our history books, and who, although they may have been misguided in some areas, went on to inspire other leaders and set the groundwork for organization and discipline. So many stories. So little time.
I never considered myself to be a rebel. I was brought up in the church, and for the most part, the children of pastors are expected to toe the line, adhere to the rules and standards of the Christian church. I had even more reason to behave, as both of my parents taught at my high school. In a small town in rural Jamaica, the ‘village raising the child’ mentality ruled. I used to joke that if I was seen walking with a boy (in broad daylight mind you), the bush telegraph would be activated (they did have phones by the way) and by the time I walked through the town I would be pregnant! So for the most part I conformed.
It was not until a close friend called me a rebel, and pointed out that my life after high school was scarcely that of a conformist that I take stock. Unlike the rest of my siblings, I moved in with my boyfriend without the formalities of a wedding. By the way, note to grandchildren: I do not recommend that you do what I did. We had barely dated; we knew each other from high school, had been boyfriend/girlfriend but…; we had corresponded over thousands of miles; we had one brief vacation together; and after graduating from nursing school I then flew over the Atlantic and moved in with him. The learning curve was steep and then life happened.
My children were raised by a Pan-Africanist, a revolutionary, a man who was ‘woke’ before it was turned into an insult. He made sure our children understood their history, the history of people of African descent around the world. He could have been a Bedward, but without the religious aspect, since, like Marx, he saw religion as the opium of the masses. He was a Garveyite, an Nkrumahist, a well read outspoken activist.
I cannot say that my life has not been interesting! As I sat in the audience and joined in the singing and hand-clapping that accompanied the show, I realized how blessed it is to live a life filled with culture. We are enriched through the arts, being exposed to a diversity of stories, which can expand our horizons and broaden our understanding of the paths others have taken. Poets, painters, playwrights and more have provided us with many avenues through which to learn about our fellow-human beings. We should take every opportunity to enhance our knowledge and understanding, to better appreciate those with whom we share this planet.
On this Friday morning, I hope you can move outside of your own circle to experience the life of another. I hope you can recognize that despite superficial differences and styles, we all share common goals, we all experience common emotions.
Have a wonderful weekend, Family!
One Love!
Namaste.
