An old colleague of mine was a very large South African named Jumbo who had transplanted to London. He was tall and big and able to handle his drink. And smoke a bud or two.

He was obsessed (in the right way) with reggae and spent plenty of time in Jamaica, setting up the Frontline label.

 

He told me that he once got invited to Grounation – a big, big honour for a white guy from where he was from. He went to the middle of Trenchtown with a lot of old and frankly mystical white dreadlocked Rastafarian elders who sat cross legged on the mud floor. They filled the pipe with lots of the best stuff, “stems and all” as Jumbo told it. And they passed it around the circle. As it went they chuffed on it one by one, deeply and fully.

Now, as I said, Jumbo was full of confidence in his ability to ingest, and knew he could look after himself. So aware of the honour of being invited, he drew in long and deep. He definitely did inhale. And he said “and then it hit me and I felt instantly sick to my heart, and like I would pass out”.

The elders, who smoked it every day, were unaffected. But Jumbo wasn’t. Dishonour loomed but he saved the day and held his stomach back down. He turned back from green to pinkish white. Calmed, he looked up to see he hadn’t let himself down.

And then he realised they had refilled the pipe and it was coming around again.

The soundtrack to Jumbo’s humiliation is out now on Soul Jazz, and thanks to them for making this remarkable music available so everyone can hear the religious beat of the Nyabinghi drummers.

It’s a great sample and if you like it try this awesome record (if you can find it still)... But whatever you do, don’t try what Jumbo did.

It’s likely to make you see their G-d. Which may not be a bad thing...