When Buju Banton plunges his hand into the bowl of coconut milk, his forearm is black and slim as the letter 'I' on a blank page. Even standing in a humble kitchen in Miramar, he is a prophet. His gestures speak of larger things than steamed fish and pigeon peas and rice. Or maybe what he is saying is that there are no larger things in life than steamed fish and pigeon peas and rice. War, poverty, slavery, all the evils he decries in his reggae songs are at root a denial of the simplest sustenance. Laughter, love, a woman's upright posture, all the pleasures he celebrates as a dancehall DJ are so many versions of the sweetness of coconut milk or of a meal... More >>>