Domino Days
Cleo Lake
A tribute to “London”, Cleo’s father.
Transcript
I think back to the day of the funeral, the road block, hundreds of people in the cemetery and the never-to-be-realised reassurances that things would be ok.
I can still hear the thud against the coffin as the men throw the Ganja, rum and brandy into the grave. The women sing the goodnight song, high pitch, loud and out of tune.
Melbourne Hezekiah Lake (or “London” as you were known), born St Thomas Jamaica in 1931 and raised by your grandmother. Searching for what you believed would be a better life, you voyaged to the cold climate of Britain and, in a time of great adversity, eventually came to settle in Bristol.
You worked and hustled your way into society with a view to doing more than just scrape by.
In 1979 you achieved your main ambition, to become a father, my ather and also became a significant figure in my sister’s life. My arrival gave you the energy to realise your ambitions and by the mid-eighties you were the proud owner of Jamaican Good Food Restaurant, gleaming with colourful pride on the corner of Lower Ashely Road, St Pauls. The restaurant served as an important focal point for the community and attracted a wide range of clientele, as doctors and lawyers rubbed shoulders with some of the bone-sucking, cursing locals.
And those were Domino Days: you were also a spirits man, a gambler, a smoker, a one-time hustler, a workaholic and overweight. Eventually the 59 years of your life were concluded with a run of heart attacks. On the 27th of September 1989, my soldier to the end, you passed on, three hours after my tenth birthday.
I was the image of you and people called me Little London, a name that I now take as my stage name, as I try to reclaim my heritage and culture through expressing myself through dance, music and art. You always did what you could to educate me. Despite the inner isolation and loneliness growing up, my roots run deep.
“Though we are apart, love unites us.” Yet are we not also united in ambition, determination, drive, frustrations and grief? I pray that pride will return to me with a vengeance, so I may now take up the baton and have you rest in peace.
