My earliest memory of ever hating a genre of music was when I was a teenager. I am a perfect 90’s baby, so rap, gospel and hip pop was the deal for me. Country music and reggae was something I had personally reserved for my uncle’s and the men who fell in the category of the papa’s. Mum would say, “Don’t you like Dolly Parton? She has a sweet voice and sings about real life experiences.” In the depth of my heart, I knew I could not just help sparing my time to listen to a matured lady who had the voice of a baby. Sometimes I’d wonder if Dolly was an old lady pretending to be young. Call me young and foolish, you might not be too far from the reality. A family friend who had accommodation problems at the time also lived with us. He often occupied the balcony with a mattress. I believe he was trying not to inconvenience anyone. “You are my friend when I am hungry,” his radio would blare. Who in the blue God-created skies wants to ...