What is "rastafarian"

Usage examples of "rastafarian".

The Rastafarian had affected an accent that seemed an excellent approximation of how a stoned robot might sound.

Short of being a professional surfer or a bong test pilot for the Rastafarian air force, Kona thought he had found the perfect job.

Sean saw that he was young, mid-twenties, with bandoliers of ammunition over both shoulders and a Rastafarian hairstyle, ribbons of camouflage rag braided into his hair.

Marlowe wondered how the cranky air-circulation system coped with the enormous quantities of ganja smoke that were generated in the rastafarian barbershop.

Eventually he found himself homing once again on the rastafarian barbershop.

He was a huge Rastafarian who looked like nothing so much as an obese and enormous baby.

Well, not long after I was passing the evening with this Rastafarian bunch in a squat in Chelsea.

A man in a Rastafarian hat full of dreadlocks was shouting at the police from behind the yellow crime-scene tape.

Topping, business partner of Leo Felix, the Rastafarian automotive dealer who ran Jah Cars, the previously-owned-car emporium down beside the canal.

Their hairstyles were flocculent Afros or the intricate beaded dreadlocks of the Rastafarians, their faces were painted into death masks of ds like iguana rouge and purple lipstick with iridescent green eyeli lizards.

The rastafarians still saw themselves as patriarchs of the old school.

Thus I saw what I took to be Nepalese boys in the garb of urban American blacks talking to each other in Spanish, four Japanese girls wearing Andean headgear yabbering to each other in Magreb Arabic, Saree-covered Tolchucks conversing in Cantonese, Malay-speaking Rastafarians, Portuguese-giggling Sikhs, English-speaking Hindu Swedes, Urdu-chattering Nigerian Orthodox Rabbis.

Rastafarians striding purposefully, thin men, in short sleeves and ties, riding to work on their too-small bicycles.

Marlowe had been particularly irked when, during an afternoon of hanging out in the rastafarian barbershop, an antique copy of Have Gun Will Travel was interrupted by an earnest woman with a lengthy diatribe about lesbian rights under any new administration.

Marcus Garvey had been thrown together around an enormous old Russian air scrubber, a rectangular thing daubed with Rastafarian symbols, Lions of Zion and Black Star Liners, the reds and greens and yellows over-laying wordy decals in Cyrillic script.