RASTAFARI: IT'S MORE THAN JUST GANJA, REGGAE

NEW YORK -- ``Beware of the imposta' Rasta.'' So warned Dave Simon,
25, who said it takes more than dreadlocks and ganja to make a
Rastafarian.

``You can grow your hair and not live the life of a Rastaman,'' said
Simon, sitting in the back yard of the Olive Branch, the West Indian
restaurant in Queens where he works. ``I'm bald and I'm a Rasta Rastaman.

``It comes straight from the heart.'' Since the 1960s, many Americans
have been quick to adopt the trappings of the Rasta life -- from the
dreadlocks to the reggae to the ganja, or marijuana, smoking -- while
forgetting that for hundreds of thousands of followers, it's more than
a fashion.

It's a religion. Rastafarians and the scholars who study them report a
resurgence of interest in the music and the faith. From New York to
Miami, people are hailing the ``Lion of Judah,'' the late Ethiopian
emperor Haile Selassie, as a living incarnation of God. Leonard
Barrett, author of The Rastafarians, estimates that there are 800,000
Rastas worldwide, more than 2 million if one counts followers of the
lifestyle but not the faith.

No one has tracked the growing number of Rastafarians in the United
States, he said. But reggae singers have helped bring young men and
women into the fold with songs calling for racial harmony and a return
to religion.

And some of the new Rastas are mixing a tradition of rebellion with
decidedly traditional Christian teachings. The movement began in the
early 1930s, when Prince Tafari Makonnen of Ethiopia was crowned
Emperor Haile Selassie I, a self-proclaimed descendant of King Solomon
of Judah and the Queen of Sheba. Some Jamaicans, followers of
Pan-Africanist Marcus Garvey, saw Selassie as the messiah who would
redeem all black people by bringing them back to Africa.

They formed a religion combining the word ``Ras,'' or prince, with the
emperor's first name, Tafari. The early movement was particularly
popular among the poor ``suffarahs,'' Jamaica's under- and unemployed,
said Barrett. It was the second-generation converts who instituted
dreads and ganja and increased their opposition to Western political
and economic domination (``Babylon'') through street marches and
defiance of the police, said University of the West Indies
anthropologist Barry Chevannes.

It was not long before the Caribbean migration -- and reggae icon Bob Marley
- -- brought Rastafari to the United States. The movement appeals primarily to
young Caribbean immigrants, writes sociologist Randal Hepner in an essay
published in the recently released Chanting Down Babylon: The Rastafari
Reader. But it's also attracting, he said, ``a growing number of Africans,
African Americans, Native Americans and white Americans.''

``It's for everybody,'' said Paul David, 33, an owner of the Olive
Branch, who joined Simon and four other Rastas for a smoke behind his
restaurant.

A veteran with waist-length dreads, David guides the younger Rastas,
playing devotional reggae on a boombox and showing videos on a
television in the stock room.

That afternoon he was showing documentaries about Haile Selassie's
life in honor of the emperor's July 23 birthday, which was celebrated
that evening.

There's no initiation for newcomers, David said, and no required
reading except the Bible. He tries to help instill in young people a
sense of pride in the African heritage and a desire to free themselves
from racial and economic oppression.

He warns them to get their lives together ``before they have to face
the king himself,'' Haile Selassie, who they view as a living
manifestation of God. Rastas, said David, envision the coming of a
golden age on Earth for the pure of heart.

The movement, said Barrett, sees Ethiopia as the promised land, where
black people will be repatriated though an exodus from Western countries.

The timing, many believe, awaits the decision of Haile Selassie, and
the details are secret. Will anyone go to hell? ``I wouldn't know
about that,'' said David.

``I think so positive. I think about freedom.'' He gestured toward the
boombox to bring the point home. ``Soon we will be free,'' the singer
chanted while a young man lit another joint. Ganja, said David, is not
a drug.

It's a religious sacrament. ``Drugs to me is cocaine, heroin. Herb is
the healing of the nation. Herb heals people from glaucoma and
diabetes.'' Hepner said his research does not support the common
conception that Rastas are heavily involved in drug
trafficking.

Rastas, he said, are adamantly opposed to the use of narcotics and
alcohol. Some do not smoke at all. Weed or no weed, any gathering that
invokes Haile Selassie is worship, said Simon. Most American Rastas,
Hepner said, do not attend formal churches, gathering instead in
homes, clubs and smoking yards.

Larger congregations hold Bible study, Sunday school classes and
courses in African history and the roots of the back-to-Africa
movement. Some Rastas, said University of North Carolina philosophy
and religion Professor Nathaniel Samuel Murrell, have reinterpreted
the idea of repatriation to mean a voluntary relocation to Africa or a
symbolic return to cultural values.

Attitudes toward Christianity have also changed, said Barrett. The
early Rastas were hostile to Christians, who vilified Rastas in
Jamaica. The Twelve Tribes, one of the most influential and mainly
middle-class Rastafarian sects, believe Jesus is a manifestation of
God like Haile Selassie, and many members sound like evangelical
Protestants when reciting biblical verses on good and evil.

Today the rebellious side of Rastafari religion in the United States
is expressed primarily through reggae, and in some cases a refusal to
work in mainstream jobs. ``We're a family, and not even Newt Gingrich
fights families,'' said a long-time Rasta who said police do not
bother Rastas who smoke at the church.

``Rastas are just Christians who seek repatriation.'' Despite popular
conceptions, Marcia Dan, 40, a grocery store owner, said that Rasta
religion is more about traditional Christian values than pot smoking
and reggae, a claim that might have made early Rastas cringe.

``It's about peace, peace, peace,'' she said, the scent of marijuana
wafting around her. ``Love the Lord God with all your heart. And love
your neighbor as yourself.''

Checked-by: Patrick Henry