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'He’s tall. Slight. Last buzz-cut grown just long enough to make his dead-straight dirty blond tuft. Skinny-fit jeans. But it’s the T-shirt that catches my eye: dark background, brightly emblazoned with the word “Rastafari” all in capitals. I’m looking at the T-shirt. He’s looking at me, looking at the T-shirt. If we’d met before, I’d have jokingly got my patois on. Cha, white bwoy tink im is tru-big Rastafari, huh? But I don’t. I just look. “Hi, I’m Jeff,” he says. “I’m chairing the panel today.”' (Introduction)
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Last amended 27 Mar 2017 09:14:49
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