SThomas, commonly referred to as the “forgotten parish”, is located in the eastern part of Jamaica and boasts a reputation as the established home of Kumina – also known as Kalunga or Kadunga. The drive from Kingston to the parish is a battle between people, vehicle traffic, stray animals, heat and dust from a highway project currently under heavy construction that is expected to transform the parish.
However, there are many unexpected rewards to reward any traveler seeking to experience Kumina – an expressive art form that celebrates life, death and spirituality through dance, music and the Kikongo language – for the first time.
From rugged beauty, pristine beaches, stunning sunset views and the world-famous Spa Fountain – lauded for its therapeutically healing treatments – this is St Thomas. St. Thomas is also defined by Kumina – rooted in the celebration of the ancestors (the original Bongo nation) and the embrace of an authentic cultural heritage.
Rituals and ceremonies are performed for births, engagements and weddings, deaths, wakes and burials, while Kikongo is still spoken in Kumina communities – but is fast disappearing, except when sung during specific Kumina ceremonies. There are also communities of Kumina practitioners in St Mary, St Catherine, Portland and Kingston.
“[There] is a popular traditional dance music in the Congo region known as Kumunu,” explains Kenneth Bilby, noted anthropologist and ethnomusicologist, speaking of the ancient central African Kingdom of the Congo (which once included parts of present-day Angola, the Democratic Republic of of the Congo, Gabon and the Republic of the Congo.[The] The drumming style itself is known as Kumunu [which] very closely parallel to the Jamaican Kumina drums.”
“Bongo” as a term is invoked in the original Kikongo language and among Kumina worshipers it refers to people of African descent. Bongo in the local dialect is often cast in a derogatory light because of the legacies of colonialism—not unlike the perceptions some still hold of the communities, descended from enslaved Africans, who practice Ifa, Vodou, Candomblé, Santería, and others.
However, members of the Kumina community have reclaimed this word as a legitimate source of their African power, pride and identity.
“Bongo means true grassroots man, even though the Bongo Nation is scattered,” says Lenroy Alexander, a senior member and elder within the Kumina community. It is the ritual drum – kbandu/bandu AND playing kyas – that reinforce their bond with Bongo. Both drums speak, resist and refuse to be silent.
Tthose drums are also a constant reminder of communal healing. Made from traditional tree trunks wrapped in strong vines originating from tree bark and guided by goat skin, the drums are made from the wood of cedar, trumpet or breadfruit trees.
In the past, batteries were also built in disguise. of playing kyas, for example, they were originally made from casks that stored rum from sugar estates. To defy and keep the batteries hidden from the (dangerously) prying eyes of overseers and plantation masters, playing kyas’ the exterior would later be made similar to the now famous Jamaican rum casks.
The playing of these drums during ritualized performances is at the heart of Kumina. The mesmerizing and pulsating rhythms emanating from the drums are matched with the frantic movements of the dancers who communicate with the ancestral spirits.
Of course, the accompanying musical instruments – suspicion (made of seeds or gourds filled with stones), big or beat sticks (made from thin bamboo knots) and graters (the kind you might have in the kitchen and use to grate cheese!) are just as important.
of playing kyas AND i’m sorry they are like conversations between a man and a woman. Philip Supersad, sculptor and musician, compared the steady four-beat pattern of i’m sorry (“dudum-dudum-dudum-dum”) a very patient man saying “Yes, dear! Yes dear!” to appease his wife; while to playing kyas respond in a very fast, urgent, loud, staccato rhythm (“peng-peng-peng”) that is almost like a wife telling her husband to hurry home.
Kumina is not an adopted practice, but a way of life embedded in the psyche of the community
During the Kumina, the rhythms of the drums affect your whole body and are meant to transport the participants to a higher plane. It is an ongoing conversation between dancers and drummers, dancers and ancestors. Drummers also play a role in the safety of the dancers. Here both i’m sorry AND playing kyas take center stage, as ancestors are not only revered, but also feared.
Myal described as a portal or channel to connect with the spirits of the ancestors, and is commonly called the “catch of Myal soul”. As a manifestation of the ancestral presence, this is perhaps one of the most intriguing aspects of Kumina. A personal encounter is not easily described in words or described from an academic perspective. In the words of spiritualist Simon Davis:
Myal it is a state of being, under the guidance of spirits. When spirits come to you, they connect with Africans from ancient times, old Africans with ancestors. You are a vessel through which spirit speaks, and you also respond to spirit. Ancestors appear in different forms.
THere there has been a shift in Kumina music in recent years, but not by “true practitioners” – individuals for whom Kumina is not an adopted practice, but a way of life embedded in the psyche of the community.
Popular sound systems, generally reserved for ballroom spaces, are seen attached to the “Courts of the Dead” (or Nine-Nights, a funeral tradition also practiced throughout the region). Kumina musicians have to deal with the loud sounds of speaker boxes and pop music.
Between 2003 and 2016, numerous reggae music producers also started a music trend by experimenting with Kumina music. The “Kumina Riddim” (a “riddim” that is a produced instrumental track) came out of this, with many reggae artists adding their unique vocals to the Kumina Riddim.
When these riddims hit the airwaves and crashed over the speaker boxes, to the delight of the dancehall masses, the audience was treated to songs titled “Kumina Rock”, “Dance Kumina”, “Wheel & Turn”, “Party up in Here ” among other colorful and animated names.
For outsiders, the opportunity to witness Kumina in action may seem a little intimidating at first, but it offers a glimpse of something much deeper. To understand Kumina is to observe and absorb the community in action. “Like yu cross de bridge fi come inna St Thomas, yasuh is weh wi mek cultural bridge,” a Kumina supporter said proudly in Patois.
Gaining access to Kumina communities is not easy, as most are not close to each other and it is necessary to have someone with connections to the community.
Cumin remains at the heart of Afro-Jamaican traditions and culture and continues to play an important role in remembering the spiritual and physical liberation practiced in this African-Atlantic environment. It is an invaluable part of Jamaica’s intangible cultural heritage and one that the African Caribbean Institute of Jamaica/Jamaica Memory Bank is actively working to document and preserve.
