No Woman No Cry (16 page)

But back then I would be collecting all this produce, which turned out to be far too much for one family, and I thought, what am I gonna do with it? I gave away a lot to friends, but there was still a surplus—we even had goats and cows! Then it occurred to me to ask Bob to let me open a little “depot” at Hope Road. Every day there were rehearsals there, or meetings or some such; the place was always crowded, a packed house of musicians and fans. The scene was like a party, with a lot of hungry and thirsty people who had nowhere to go for refreshment. So I thought I might do something different, and one morning I said to Bob, “You know, I think I could do a juice bar over there, right beside the gate.”

He frowned a bit, then laughed and said, “You sure? What would you do?”

I said, “Sell things, and so forth.” I realized the word “things” wasn't specific, but I meant it, because if one thing didn't work, I was going to try something else. And if I had to sell oranges, they would be the best oranges in Jamaica! So I explained that I could sell coconuts (in their shell, with a straw) and I could make juices with the different fruits that we were getting. And so he agreed, because he believed in my abilities—he'd sometimes say, “Whatever Rita says always works.”

We hadn't thought about doing food before I started this, since we didn't think we'd be allowed to in a residential area. But the idea of selling things was already in place: By then we sold records and anything else having to do with music. And I had a history of “selling things” successfully. So Bob said, only a little bit doubtfully, “That's not a bad idea, if that's what you want to do.”

I said, “Yeah, let me try.” I just wanted something to occupy my time, in terms of not sitting down and waiting, or not having anything to do but stay home and do housework. My babies were fine, they were growing up with us, and it was fun to have—if not a career—then at least something else to do that I enjoyed. So I created the Queen of Sheba Restaurant, and when I began to bring the food everybody went crazy. They loved it! Even my avocados were different—when it was avocado time, I had the best. And coconuts, oranges, star apples … When it comes to growing, I know I'm really God blessed, because whatever I plant grows. Whenever my fruit trees are bearing, they bear exceptionally well—big and good—and organic, because I don't ever,
ever
use any fertilizer other than manure. After the juice bar took off, I built a brick oven to bake whole wheat bread right there. Bob was my best customer. I still thought I should be around my husband to be sure he ate properly, and this was a way of doing it.

Not long after
Catch a Fire
made Bob Marley and the Wailers instant superstars, I remet my old friend Minnie Phillips, the Rasta sister from uptown Kingston who used to buy records from our little bedroom shop in Trench Town. One night Bob and I were at a gathering of a Rastafarian organization called the Twelve Tribes of Israel, and there was Minnie with Judy Mowatt, one of the top women reggae singers. I hadn't seen Minnie for eight or nine years, and as she says now, that night it was as if only the two of us were there. For hours we talked about old times and our children (like me, Minnie had had a few—Mike, Sahi, Saleh, Rutibel—in the years we'd been apart).

Before the night ended, we had planned a woman's organization, to be called Mada Wa Dada (Mother of the Nation). We knew it was going to take some money. One of our immediate goals was to build a school for Rasta children, since at that time in Jamaica a child who wore dreadlocks was not admitted into the government schools. (Some schools even now deny such children admittance.) Back then we thought we should take up that responsibility, we felt we had it on our shoulders. To raise money, we decided to put on a concert. Since we had the talent, and the promoters were using us to pack their houses, why couldn't we do it for ourselves? So we went to Bob—“Brother Bob, have mercy on the Rasta child!”—and he agreed to perform without pay. We were ecstatic, because that alone could fill the National Arena. Minnie was a Twelve Tribe member at the time, as was Bob, but I was not. Even though it was a Rasta organization, I didn't feel as if I had a part there, since I thought of it as a “mixing pot” and didn't see myself “mixing.” Minnie was rebuked by the leaders of the organization for joining with me, a nonmember, to put this show together—it was “against the rules.” (Their attitude toward women then needed adjustment, as women were always put in the background, which is why a women's organization was needed.) And they were the culprits in the long run, because Minnie trusted these brethren and had them at the gate controlling all the money, and they robbed us of every cent. Every last cent! The night after the concert we got nothing. Despite the fact that the National Arena had been packed and all the food sold off, we got nothing!

But after that Minnie hung with me, and a more loyal sister you could not find. Most important, she helped me create the Queen of Sheba Restaurant. She'd be hook and hook with me, sometimes twenty-four seven. We would go to the Clarendon farm together and bring in the produce, set up the coconuts and the oranges. And Bob was so proud of us. He was like an agent pulling in customers, my proud PR man. He would tell everybody, “Go look over Rita's shop! Go get something over Rita's shop!”

Now I had a reason whenever I wanted to get away—I had to be off to the farm. If Bob was around, pretty soon I'd hear his Jeep coming in, and he'd be yelling, “Yo, Rita! Where are you?”

And I'd yell back, from between the rows of corn or coconut trees, “I'm over here, baby!”

He would sometimes be suspicious of me, and if he couldn't find me, he'd go up to Minnie's, looking, “Where's Rita???” And I might be somewhere sitting quietly, reading a book. I think it was his conscience, and as the song says, “In every man chest there beats a heart.” I may have been resentful of this scrutiny then, but now I feel that he somehow had me in mind. That with all that was happening around him, innocent or not, he felt that some of it was not too good for Rita.