This story starts on the hillsides of Westmoreland, the Ganja growing capital of Jamaica. Setting out before the crack of dawn with only a bottle torch to fight back the blanket of darkness, Tahta leaves his empress and family for a 9 mile trek to his perfectly hidden ganja farm in the hillside. Arriving before sunrise, he would immediately get to work. He preferred growing lambread, a Jamaican landrace he got from his great grandfather in the 1960s when he was taught the craft.
It was tiring work, constantly scoping the hillside and the sky above for Babylon (the police) coming to raid and chop down his farm. “A long time mi a grow ganja yuh knuh! Those were stressful times, we were persecuted and discriminated against for just trying to make a living and preserve the only thing we get to survive off of,” Tahta recalls. To be caught with a simple spliff meant a lengthy jail sentence, so one could only see what punishment awaits for having a full field of ganja dancing under the Jamaican sun. Nonetheless, relying on his craft for cultivating fine Ganja to be used for healing, spirituality and livity, Tatha a Likkle Man persevered.