Passa Passa - The Dance That Could Save Kingston

In the poor neighborhoods of Jamaica's largest city, far from the typical traveler traps, economic opportunities are few. Can Passa Passa, a wild, ribald, sweaty weekly dance party of up to 20,000 turn that?

The club owner's name is Popcorn the Legend, and he gestures toward the rugged parking lot in front of the organery of Eden lounge. "Park here," he says. "Support the bar, then go to Passa Passa."

Kingston

It's almost 3:30 on a Thursday morning, and the narrow stretch of Spanish Town Road in the hinterland of West Kingston is clogged with thousands of revelers: Locals, Europeans and Americans jostle with Japanese dancehall-queen wannabes. Raw, salacious and unadulterated, Passa Passa is not your parents' cookie-cutter vacation spot. The name is patois for "mix-up," and it is a phenomenally beloved dancehall street party that occurs Wednesday nights into Thursday mornings in Tivoli Gardens, one of the island's most-feared "garrison" communities.

The big draw is the scantily-clad video girls with painted bodies gyrating and mouthing the lyrics to every song. Male dancers with names like Cowboy, Crazy Hype and Sri-Lanka dance in clusters, their movements synchronized. Vendors hawk peanuts, candy, codfish fritters, corn soup, snacks and jerk chicken. The affable, bearded "weedman," a fixture at every Passa session, moves blithely straight through the crowd contribution dried marijuana stalks that sell themselves. Maestro, the voice of Passa Passa, steps behind the Dj booth and whips the crowd into hair-pulling frenzy as he spins the latest club tracks-Nuh Linger, MySpace, Tek Weh Yuhself-chanting ribald lyrics about cunnilingus, loose women and homosexuality.

Come 7:30 a.m., when the party begins to wind down, bus drivers taking locals to work will smile tolerantly while maneuvering straight through the throng.

Passa Passa was created in 2003 by members of Swatch International sound system. Dylan Powe, chief executive officer for the event, explains, "It's as authentic as dancehall culture comes, and we're not concerned in watering it down to make it more palatable." It is ground zero for the culture: music, artists, dance, fashion, slang, as is clear by the frequent proximity of luminaries such as Beenie Man, Sean Paul and Shaggy. But its success and longevity defies custom and history. More than entertainment, it presents a viable economic occasion for Jamaicans.

But to understand why Passa might be a unavoidable force, it's valuable to know the culture of the communities known as garrisons. These communities-Tivoli, Trench Town, Concrete Jungle, Fletcher's Land and others-are governed by gangs and "dons" who operate their entrances and exits and act as a liaison in the middle of the community and political parties. Wars are fought to protect political boundaries and territories, and safety of political parties insulates the communities from law enforcement. straight through Passa Passa, music and firm have come to be a catalyst for entrepreneurship, peace and community building. It's also largely free from violence-the troublemakers avoid issue lest they face a censure and backlash from the neighborhood.

Nearly 20,000 revelers flock to this commonly scorned community on a good night, bringing their spending money with them. As Popcorn told me, "an unemployed person can 'trust' [buy on credit] chicken, fish, cigarettes or a box of beer from a wholesaler and start a business. Sell, pay the debt and keep it going. Everyone profits."

New artists come in the hopes of getting their music played, established ones come to test new sounds and contemplate the next big thing. Dancers-some of them once violent gang members-work to attract the attentiveness from big-name entertainers, producers and promoters. These are opportunities to turn their circumstances in ways neither a gun nor a politician can. Powe explains, "The community's close proximity to the harbor, the market and as a main communication hub for the island makes it a center for commerce. The fact that people here have always had their own shops, businesses and hustle is a natural evolution of what's always been," Powe says.

Ironically, Tivoli is represented in the Jamaican Parliament by current Prime priest Bruce Golding. He neither condones nor condemns Passa, an event which arguably provides more economic opportunities for his constituents than his government can provide. Much of Passa's staff are residents of the garrisons. If the roads flood after a rainstorm, the vendors lend their handcarts and drums to bail water and clean the streets, so the event can still take place.

Passa's popularity and power as a public and cultural trendsetter has increased over the years. Thanks to cell phones, YouTube and MySpace, what goes on at Passa parties can immediately affect what happens in far-flung locales from Brooklyn to Tokyo to London. Corporate sponsors have also taken observation as evidenced from the strong proximity of brands such as Jamaica's Desnoes & Geddes, Digicel and Red Bull. Even so, the bulk of Passa's firm is derived from worldwide sale of Cds and Dvds, Passa parties packaged with Dj, artists, dancers and the sound principles as well as the recently launched T-shirt line.

While the videolight is on, the community knows they have the attentiveness of the world and, therefore, a stake in and accountability for their future. "It's not only entertainment," Powe says. "We're developing a firm model."

"People may not want to live it, but they are eager to caress it. They love to say they had that drink at Passa."

Passa Passa - The Dance That Could Save Kingston