Start by marking “No Woman No Cry: My Life With Bob Marley” as Want to Read: A memoir by the woman who knew Bob Marley best--his wife, Rita. Rita Marley grew up in the slums of Trench Town, Jamaica. No Woman No Cry book. Read reviews from world's largest community for readers. Digital Sheet Music of No Woman No CryComposed by: Vincent. Rita Marley's new book about her life married to and collaborating with reggae musician Bob Marley is the poster book for the great old cliché “behind every.
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A unique, intimate biography of Bob Marley by the person who knew him best, his wife Rita. Fans of reggae legend Bob Marley will welcome this no-nonsense biography from his wife, Rita, who was also his band member, business. No Woman No Cry [Rita Marley, Hettie Jones] on usaascvb.info No Woman No Cry: My Life with Bob Marley and millions of other books are available for.
A purposeful-looking woman got out and exchanged some intemperate words with Marley's girlfriend, who had spied the truck from the porch. The commotion was enough to rouse the singer, who came out to talk to the woman.
She told him off and called his girlfriend a whore. She also mentioned that she was moving out of her aunt's shack in Trench Town and needed money.
Whatever she said, it worked: Marley forked over some cash, and the woman got back in the truck and sped off toward her new home. This was an odd exchange, not least because the woman in question was Rita Marley, Bob Marley's wife.
They had been married since , but their marriage was full of breaks and partings, and the house on Hope Road marked yet another break: it was his place, not hers.
After the altercation at Hope Road, Rita Marley never talked to her husband again -- never, that is, until later in the day, when he came to visit his wife and children at their barren new house in Bull Bay. In her memoir, ''No Woman No Cry,'' Rita Marley explains that she made it through this ordeal by refusing to dwell on it.
By bedtime, she writes, ''everything I'd gone through. Marcia Griffiths, who later sang with me as one of the I-Three, says that Studio One was Jamaica's Motown, "where all the great stars grew You couldn't help but learn if you kept your ears open. Coxsone had a guitar that he loaned to those who were too poor to download one.
Bob had that guitar most of the time. The backup group we eventually formed still consisted of Dream, myself, and Marlene, who would leave school in the evenings to come to Trench Town and rehearse, and whose parents thought this was the worst ambition. To leave high school to go to Trench Town, to be with those kinds of people - the tough guys, the killers, the thieves! Dream was my main tootsie, my favorite cousin, my little postman, my little errand runner.
As a baby, he had the most beautiful big eyes you've ever seen, and always looked as if he was dreaming - you know that sexy dreamy look?
So from an early age Constantine Anthony Walker was known as "Dream. They, being the Misters of Black Progress, who taught us that Black Is Beautiful and how wise it is to know yourself, decided that Dream was so much their little "buds" buddy that they had to change his nickname. Only old men have dreams, they insisted, but young men have visions. And so Dream became Vision. A much more youthful flavor! We sang behind the Wailers and sometimes behind other singers or groups who were recording.
Coxsone and some others on the scene suggested we name ourselves something like the Marvelettes, an American group we'd heard, and so we became the "Soulettes. We were unknown, we weren't out there in the show business arena, and we were all still teenagers, starry-eyed amateurs.
It was also Coxsone's suggestion that Bob train and rehearse us, and I guess by then he must have seen something happening between Bob and me.
Jamaicans would call him brown-skinned and Americans might say light-skinned. Bob had much of his father's imprint; he was very half-black, half-white, with a high, round forehead, prominent cheekbones, and a long nose.
His mother, Cedella "Ciddy" Malcolm, was seventeen when she met Norval. He was more than twice her age, and was then the superintendent for British-owned lands in the rural parish of St. Ann, where Ciddy lived. By the time she was nineteen, she'd been seduced by, married to, and then abandoned by Norval. The one time he saw his father, Bob used to say, the old man offered him a "Willy" penny an old copper coin, thought of as a collector's item. Bob claimed he never saw Norval again.
But like me, Bob had an extended family to raise him, at least for a while. His grandfather, Omeriah Malcolm, was a myalman, or healer, as well as a successful businessman respected in his community of Nine Miles.
So it didn't surprise me that Bob, as the world would come to know, was very black conscious - his black consciousness covered his light skin. You see him, you hear him, and he's a black man. And he was very disciplined, self-disciplined. Very real. At fourteen he had come from St. Ann to Kingston with his mother, to live with her and a man named Thaddius Taddy Livingston, who had offered her work in his bar.
Ciddy had a daughter, Pearl, with Taddy, but then found out he was already married and had other women besides. Looking for a better life, she took Pearl, who was still a baby, and migrated to Wilmington, Delaware, where she had some family and friends. Bob was left in Taddy's care, but more like on his own.
He told me that his mother's plan had been to send for him in three months, as soon as she was settled and could secure the necessary papers. But the papers weren't easy to get. The three months had become more than three years.
When we met, Bob was living in an uneasy situation with Taddy Livingston, Taddy's common-law wife, and his son Neville Livingston, called Bunny, the member of the Wailers eventually known as Bunny Wailer. With his mother away, Bob lacked the kind of support and defense I got from Aunty. One of his early songs is titled "Where Is My Mother. One day Bob told me how fed up he was with both Taddy and this "stepmother," who wanted him to be her maid because he wasn't bringing any money to the house.
For a while he had simply become an errand boy, then worked as a trainee in a welding shop, before making his first singles, "Judge Not" and then "One Cup of Coffee," on the Beverley's label.
That Bob was getting some attention didn't mean he was being paid very much.
No one had money then. At first, and maybe always, I cared for Robbie Marley from a sisterly point of view. I was that sort of person, and still am - the responsible kind. I saw him and I said, "poor thing. I kept thinking, oh, what a nice boy.
So nice that I didn't want to let him know I had a baby - in those days, for a teenager to be unmarried and have a baby seemed so shameful. During this time I spent many hours at Studio One, rehearsing and recording, and always managed to conceal that fact. But one day, right in the middle of recording, my breasts started to leak, and Bob noticed.
He said, a little surprised, "What's that? You have a baby?