It’s an 11-hour flight from Heathrow, London, to Kingston, Jamaica. That’s time enough for any visitor to get steeped in an accent that’s pure Bob Marley.
Two days before the event, Ashish Magotra finds the buzz factor missing
It’s an 11-hour flight from Heathrow, London, to Kingston, Jamaica. That’s time enough for any visitor to get steeped in an accent that’s pure Bob Marley.
“Hey love,” a voice suddenly rings out. You look around and realise that an elderly gentleman is onyl calling the stewardess.
A few minutes later, a few more ‘loves’ are sounded out. And you start realising that this is the language of ‘love’. The radio waves are filled with a mixture of rap and reggae and the advertisements on the aircraft invite you to come for the World Cup and stay on for the party.
You can rest assured it will be one helluva party.
And cricket is on their minds too. From one corner of the aircraft to the other, the batting of Brian Lara is discussed. And of particular distress to the returning Jamaicans was their team’s complete capitulation in the practice match against India.
“You see, this team is so inconsistent maan. Can they really win the Cup? Naaah! (Viv) Richards and (Clive) Lloyd are just trying to raise our hopes. We know what’s going to happen,” says Michael, an engineer returning from London.
Michael turns to me and points out at a lady, “That’s the Prime Minister.” I look back at him, half in shock, wondering if he’s pulling my leg. But he wasn’t.
The lady was walking around the place with no security around, chatting up with folks. I ask myself when our Prime Minister would be able to do something alike.
The aircraft rocked — people dressed in WI colours, the Rasta’s and just the general enthusiasm make you feel peppy too. But as soon as the flight lands, the perceptions start changing.
The first question that pops in the mind after landing in Kingston is whether the West Indies look ready to host cricket’s biggest tournament. The airport, for one, doesn’t look like it’s geared up for the event. Maintenance work is still going on near the immigration section and there’s an utter lack of that vital factor called buzz.
Four years back, when South Africa were about to host the World Cup, you could almost feel the eagerness of a nation wanting to show the world that they were ready. The World Cup was an immaculately planned event with each city going out of its way to make the visitors feel at home.
In the West Indies that is always going to be a problem because instead of dealing with cities, the organisers were negotiating with countries. Various other political factors meant that the pace at which things moved wasn’t up to the mark.
Teams have already complained about practice facilities but locals believe that once the matches shift to the main stadiums, there will be little to complain about. All the grounds have been extensively refitted for the tournament and experience tells me that the ICC would have done a good job.
As for a few locals, returning home after the harsh European winters, getting back home is all that matters. The pure joy they experience can’t be described in words but there were a few lilting verses that caught my fancy, “Welcome to warmness, baby, say goodbye to the coolness.”
The words, though not grammatically correct, make you realise that in Jamaica it’s the rhythm that rules.
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