September 26, 2009
People in London are very odd when you encounter them on the street. They don't look others in the face; neither do they look directly down at their feet. They seem to look at an imaginary point on the sidewalk about two metres ahead of them. The number of times that this practice has nearly caused me to collide with another pedestrian are now countless in the few weeks that I have been in this country. I have also fallen into the practice of the hurried walk - had no choice - needed to avoid being run over by the moving masses.
So imagine me, Person A, scurrying along the sidewalk like some beach crab back in Bim, on the same path as Person B, foot catching a-fire from the opposite direction. The point of our potential intersection (and no doubt injury) I shall call 'C'. The onus is invaribly on me, the combatant with head upright and eyes face-front to stop just short of Point C. I screech to a halt, soles burning and heels smoking and avoid unnecessary stress layered on top of my already full day like excess cheese pun macaroni pie-top. Cahn remember when last my stomach allowed me to eat some o' dah. I digress - ammmmmm, oh! Right! So I stop short, de foolish so-and-so looks up alarmed and may or may not apologise and proceeds onwards by sidestepping me. Stuuppsse!!!
I just whip out my earphones, locate de Junior Gong pun my phone music player, lock in a riddim and blast off. Sunglasses on (regardless of light conditions), put a little bounce in my step to make de locs move in time to de tune and speed up. Somehow fewer people seem to get in my way when I am mouthing 'Welcome to Jamrock' with dreads flying.
Shawn Adderson Forde
London Odyssey '09
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