Three Dancing Suns: How a nightclub led me to understand my hodgepodge heritage

Artwork by Thea Sun.

 Words by Thea Sun

‘Out of many, one people’
– Jamaican saying

I have been left numb by my disconnection to my heritage. With a multifaceted identity as Chinese, Jamaican and Greek-Cypriot, I have searched energetically for experiences to fill this identity shaped hole in my chest to become ‘whole’. I looked everywhere but the strikingly obvious places of where I am from. 

I have never visited Jamaica but during the pandemic, I began to journey there through the stories of my father’s childhood and learnt of Champion House – the club my grandfather ran and owned. He died long before I was born and so I never met him. He has remained this absent and enigmatic figure in my life. The club provided a platform to multiple musical genres, namely jazz, disco and dancehall, in the heart of Kingston from the forties into the seventies. Today, this community landmark does not exist so, coupled with a lack of surviving photographs, it feels shrouded in mystery. However, it lives in the memories, the imagination and through the nostalgia of those who remember it. 

Champion House imbues life to those who gleefully recount their youth roaming its courtyard, bar and pool tables, and spending countless hours lost in music. Movement was everywhere, the buzz in the air was palpable, with a pulsating atmosphere that spilled over from the dancefloor into the darkness of the hot tropical nights. The bamboo fence wrapped around the edge of the building and barrels acted as makeshift tables long before Shoreditch claimed them as a trendy feature. With a yard resembling a vibrant garden of Eden, only with more flavour and ruckus and filled to the brim with a variety of mango and papaya trees, I understand the magnetic pull of these fond memories. They transcend time and transport you into a world where the mundane appears magical.

At its peak, Champion House appears close to a utopia, drawing in big name artists of that era. As my dad vividly recounts his memories of boyhood like sitting on the knee of famous jazz guitarist Ernie Ranglin, his eyes sparkle with excitement of the bygone time. My grandfather hosted open mic nights every Friday and with his community work where he would go into the shanties to encourage the youth to follow their creative instincts. Other memories include Bob Marley performing, the reggae legend pre-fame, no more than 15 or 16 years old wearing ‘short pants’ – long trousers were a rite of passage from boyhood into manhood in Jamaican culture. 

The list of regulars includes a who’s-who of industry best from that era – Sam Getts, James Brown, Shy Lights, Count Prince Miller – the champion boxer Percy Hails even trained here. The intermingling of athletes and musicians, different races – Chinese, American and Jamaican – brewed an atmosphere of acceptance that was difficult to find elsewhere. Champion House is not recognised as an institution that contributed to music and entertainment in Jamaica but it is undoubtedly key, acting as a meeting space, facilitating artistry and providing opportunity. 

When I’m asked where I’m from, the guessing game of ethnicity frequently follows. The countries chosen have made me realise I fit this category of ‘ambiguously brown’ where my real heritage is unidentifiable. Few seem to have heard of this ‘unusual’ mix, however there is a thriving community all over Jamaica. From the mid 1800s, labourers from the south of China flocked to the Caribbean to fill the labour shortage on the plantations after the abolition of slavery. Today many of my family members have passed away or left Jamaica settling in Toronto, Miami and Hawaii, further fuelling me to share this story. 

Even by the fifties, the Chinese in Jamaica weren’t welcomed with open arms. The Jamaican people were left behind without welfare programmes or government investment. As a different race, the Chinese were easily distinguishable and became resented for owning businesses. The divide deepened as the Chinese lived in uptown Kingston, usually in gated communities, whereas the Jamaicans lived in downtown Kingston. I understand this complicated perspective when my Aunt Mryna expresses how “we had two cars when others moved around on bicycles''. However, it's a classic tale of misdirected anger onto immigrant families from failing governmental support because of an exploitative colonial legacy. 

My dad has told me tales of him stuffing kitchen knives into his trousers for protection after shouting back at being called ‘China Dog’ while his friends went as far as carrying guns. Back then, Kingston could be a dangerous place, especially if you were Chinese. Back then, racial tensions escalated and many Jamaicans objected to, and frequently targeted Chinese. And yet these divides and violence all melted away as live music enveloped the crowd, breaking down deep set societal barriers. This venue was a safe haven where the divisions in society were left at the door. Music has always been an enigmatic facilitator of harmonious relations and Champion House is a prime example of this, contributing to the impressive musical lineage that comes from this island in the sun.

This untold story would have been confined to those who lived it, and subsequently lost and erased from history. By uncovering more about my grandfather and highlighting the often-overlooked Chinese existence in Jamaica, I’ve built a stronger connection to one part of my multi-fascinated identity. While I didn’t grow up fully immersed in either culture, the bits and pieces I had mesmerised me, and so I’ve often pondered what the ‘real’ experience could be like. I’ve battled with feelings of inadequacy towards my lesser-explored parts of my heritage. How could I identify with each culture on a meaningful level and not feel like an imposter? My grandfather and Champion House bridge these feelings together, uniting them into something tangible and digestible. I now understand more of my complex identity and can claim my own version of what ‘mixed’ is. It is important to understand your roots and there is a power and wholeness that comes from knowing where you are from.

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