Anaparima calling

Culture Matters

Hot Spots of Culture

DARA E HEALY

Ah going dong San Fernando

Down dey ha plenty tempo

Hatters Steel Orchestra jamming sweet

We go join San Fernandians

And roll down Coffee St

So gimme more ... tempo!

– Going down San Fernando, Calypso Rose

WHAT IS IT about San Fernando that so intrigues our artists and cultural practitioners? Calypso Rose dominated the airwaves in the 1970s with Going Down San Fernando, a song infused with her typical infectious rhythms and catch phrases.

The song so penetrated our cultural fabric that in 2006, Rose and Shurwayne Winchester produced Tempo, feeding off the original vibes and introducing a deeper level of badjohnism: “Ah bring mih revolver, 45 winchester/ If you mess with Rose/ Put on cemetery clothes... From Port of Spain to Sando/ We killing them with tempo/ Survival of the fittest on the street/ I say no we eh going home/ Better leave we alone...”

Michael Anthony’s seminal Year in San Fernando provided generations with glimpses of a more simple life, distilled through innocent eyes and a curious mind. The book also gave the city its own space in our history and lexicon, in the way that Naipaul did with St James and CLR James did with Port of Spain in his novel Mintey Alley.

In spite of the ongoing struggle with crime in San Fernando and surrounding areas, the historical and cultural emanations continue to testify to the resilience of the people and the strength of their cultural groundings.

Culture and the arts have exploded with some finals of the Best Village Competition taking place at the National Academy for the Performing Arts, South Campus; San Fest which has become known as one of the ultimate tests of artistic ability and standard, Calypso Fiesta’s annual ritual at Skinner Park, and the iconic San Fernando Creative Arts Centre that has nurtured young artists under the tutelage of Torrance Mohammed and other stalwarts.

For me the fascination with San Fernando starts with the hill, that imposing structure in the sky, that was once ravaged and barren, but which is now being allowed to breath again.

The imposing peak of the San Fernando Hill has watched over the city for centuries. Anaparima, as it was called, was revered as a god by the indigenous peoples, the Warao. For me the hill symbolises spirituality, resilience and the sometime nervous passage of time. The Warao were also the ones noted for walking and trading in Indian Walk in Moruga. The name of their god was Nabarima.

The Warao have unwittingly given their name to the Trini-ism Warahoun, meaning to behave badly. Since much of our history has been coloured by the ideology of enslavers or colonials, I suspect that is because amongst the many indigenous peoples who were here, the Warao were one of those who fought against enslavement and oppression.

We now know, or should know, that the Arawaks and Caribs that we were taught in school was another distortion. There were many peoples – Taino, Nepuyo, Kalipuna, Chaguanes, Aruaca – and Warao was just one of them. However, they continue to fight for their rights to the hill, to reclaim their sacred space. Today, the descendants continue to pour libation to the spirits of their ancestors and agitate for their right to a place.

Another legend from the indigenous peoples of the south holds great significance for us as we seek to find meaning in the wake of the earthquake and everything else happening in the world.

There is a legend of the Pitch Lake which says that two of the “nations” fought a great battle. The winner of the battle decided that they wanted to celebrate, but to do so they killed and ate the sacred humming bird as part of their feasting. The creator seeing this became angry and caused the village to be swallowed up by earth and replaced it with the lake of pitch.

As artists, we understand that in many ways the heritage and culture of our people, the Tempo! that Rose talks about, keep us grounded. Whether we pour libation, practice our art or our faith in a particular way, the shaking of our country this week should be seen as another opportunity for us to do better. Will we learn the lessons from that story. We need to – Anaparima is calling, Anaparima is watching.

Dara Healy is a performance artist and founder of the NGO, the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN