Thank you, Beres Hammond

Dear Editor, We often speak about music as entertainment. We remember the songs we danced to, the songs that accompanied first loves, heartbreaks, and celebrations. Yet there are songs that do something far more profound, they quietly prepare us for life.

This is a public thank you to Beres Hammond for giving me one of those songs. I grew up in Montego Bay during the 1980s, in a home where music mattered. His albums occupied a place of honour in our house, alongside artistes like Air Supply, Bob Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel, and Sam Cooke.

She owned them on vinyl and cassette, and Putting Up Resistance became part of the soundtrack of my childhood. What makes that remarkable is that, unlike many songs we only come to appreciate as adults, this one spoke to me immediately. The message wasn’t beyond my understanding simply because I was young.

It made perfect sense because I was already witnessing it every day. My father would leave home at three and four o’clock in the morning, driving deep into the Jamaican countryside to buy produce and goods before the rest of us had even opened our eyes. He was supplying hotels and customers, working tirelessly to build a business and provide opportunities for his family that he himself had never enjoyed.

Then I heard Beres Hammond singing “Blow wind blow, blow wind blow/I want to stay home tonight/I long to spend some time with the family/But staying home won’t make it right.” Those words helped me understand my father’s sacrifice. They taught me that love is not always measured by the hours spent at home. Sometimes love looks like leaving before dawn so your children can have a better life.

The song acknowledges something every Jamaican knows, but few songs express so honestly: “Try to save myself from drown/There’s an overnight scheme all worked out/ Designed to keep ah me down”. We all know there are times when it feels as though unseen forces continually frustrate honest effort. Bureaucracy, economic hardship, disappointment, and circumstance can create the feeling that the odds are permanently tilted against ordinary people.