Rastaman folk tales: Holistory

Rastaman folk tales: Holistory

So, once Jah decided to create the world of earthcraft - just for phun. He's been poopsocking for three days and created almost everything... but something still was missing. He started to think: what's missing? Then, an internal voice tols Him: "Ganja! There is no ganja in your world, man!" Jah looked around and realized that it is true. Everything already looks alright, but a ganja ain't growing - like in Soviet Russia.

So He created a ganja. Then, he sat, puffed up a bit, looked around again and thought: "Oh my god! What a square world I just created. I need to pimp it up a bit and create something groovy. This world needs something really funny. Because now it is so-o boring, like TV." So Jah created a rastaman.

Jah created him and told: "Look, dude. Everything is just for you: here is the sun, here is the beach, here is a fresh produce, and here is the ganja. It is a paradise, man. Live up and enjoy yourself." The rastaman smoked some ganja and told: "It would be funny to listen some tunes now."

Okay. Jah created him a boombox and three thousands and fifteen cassettes for it. He told: "Look here, man. Sun, beach, fresh produce, potted meat, truckload of beer, ten-feet-high ganja, Bob Marley on the boombox - rastaman vibration, yeah, positive! Live up and enjoy yourself." The rastaman listened up the cassette and told: "It would be funny to play guitar now."

Okay. Jah created a guitar for him and told: "It looks like everything is alright now: sun, fresh air, beach, barbeque, fresh produce and even ganja. By the way, the ganja is a good one - not some Indiana ditch or crappy indica. Live up and enjoy yourself." The rastaman played guitar and told: "Umm, how about a girl? With a woman it will be a paradise, indeed."

Okay. Jah created him a chick. Really hot one. Then, He told: "OK, guys, here is your paradise. Live up and enjoy yourselves. In meantime, I'll go to Amsterdam for a vacation. I am so tired to create everything for you here." Then he left.

So, the rastaman and the girl are enjoying themselves in paradise, smoking ganja, singing songs, playing guitar and making love on the lawn. It is a heavenly life, indeed. Food is plentiful, no need to go to work, fresh ganja year-round, no cops to can'em, no gangs to rob'em, no parents to bug'em. It is how they lived in the paradise.

The serpent crawled by. Skinny, pale, dot-eyed, skinhead... all his body is one big vein with needle scars all over. Rastamans greeted him: "Hey, snake! Crawl here, let's smoke some ganja." The serpent replied: "Thanks, people. Really, thanks, but it is so pass? to smoke ganja. It's not a real fun. Like, just to relax, to chat, to enjoy some music... Guys, you call in funny? Funny - it is when BLIP! and your soul is flying high immediately... and flying and flying in warm endlessness... That's what I call "groovy"!"

Rastamans asked: "But where we can get such a stuff?" The cunning serpent pointed on a flower-bed: "Here it is, it grows right here. Look at those stems with green heads. They have a white juice inside. Let's cook some brown from it and put it down our veins. Then, you'll see what a REAL groove is.

The rastaman told: "Wow, cool! Let's do that." But the girl warned him: "Wait a sec. It is bloody poppies. Remember, Jah warned us about them: "Look, guys, these are bloody poppies. Do not eat, drink or smoke them, do not make brown from themt, otherwise you'll become hooked up on it, become junkies and waste your life." The serpent answered: "I think this guy is bullshitting you. Nobody becomes a junkie from the first try. I used it up for three years before became hooked up. It's not a big deal, though. Later, I broke my dependency and didn't become a junkie. Because if you use it properly it is not really harmful.

The girl asked: "Why you are saying it is not harmful, if Jah told it is otherwise?" The serpent replied: "He has no idea about it. He even never tried it himself, how could he know? Try it, and you will know about it even more than he does." Finally, the serpent persuaded rastamans to slam some brown. He slammed four points himself and called his junkie friends to join the party. Sure they came, for such a give-away.

The paradise eventually became a crackhouse. They cure super flu in the morning; chase it up at night... all day they are sitting, staring at the wallpaper, scratching themselves, looking at their shoes... What a fucking mess! They are not even truly enjoying it - well, it is funny some way, but where is the promised "groove"? The serpent told them: "You didn't dig it yet, guys. When you dig it up, you'll enjoy it."

So, rastamans are started to dig the brown. Half-point, then a whole point, then, after two weeks - even four points! They wanted to have an endless fun - but they didn't get it. They used up all poppies in the paradise, and the serpent offered to exchange all their ganja for some brown. It doesn't work on you already, anyways - let's swap it for the brown.

So, they exchanged all ganja for the brown. Then, they exchanged all fruits and vegetables, pawned the boombox and the guitar, even their own clothes and bead jewelry. Finally, Jah returned from the vacation - and what He sees? The paradise is fucked up, used needles and piles of feces are everywhere, Hell's Angels are hanging around... what's next? DEA raid? Some guys are even chopping down the trees. Jah approached the lumberjacks: "Why are you cutting the trees?" They answered: "Get lost, capice? We bought those trees at bargain: a log for a point."

Jah called the rastaman and the girl. They came: dirty, naked, skinhead, all skin and bones, hands are covered with needle scars. They came and stand before Him, scratching themselves. Jah asked: "Why are you naked?" Rastamans answered: "Because it is so hot outside." Jah asked again: "Are you into brown?" The rastaman answered: "This bloody serpent tricked us into it. Now we are all hooked up and we can't quit." Jah called the serpent - but he already skipped away somewhere, where more poppies are growing. Because he realized that here he won't get anything more. Except grievous bodily harm.

At this point, Jah get really mad. He stood up in all of His magnitude, His head reaching the sky and roared: "EVERYBODY, GET FUCK OUT OF HERE!" And all squares disappeared from the paradise at once. Only rastamans left. They are standing naked before Him, shivering with cold - because they already have a super flu and there is no brown left. Jah grabbed them into His hand and moulded them together as a piece of clay. Then, He shaped them again, brand new. He bought them some second-hand clothes, they made themselves bead jewelry, planted ganja again - and started a new, better life in the paradise. Remember, Jah did not banish them from the paradise, neither their children nor grandchildren. We are still living in the paradise, but not always digging it. But when we finally dig it - oh, boy.

Original Russian text: (c) HighDuke

Ðàñòàìàíñêèå íàðîäíûå ñêàçêè :: Ñêàçêè è ïðî÷åå

English translation: (c) juzy

juzy: СвященнÐя история