A life of resistance

Culture Matters

DARA E HEALY

“For those who don’t know, East Dry River is like the cultural heartbeat of TT... East Dry River is also a very downpressed community, but it’s the community which fostered the birth of the steelband, it’s the community that fostered and nurtured the calypsonians when they come into PoS...Rapso and Brother Resistance come from inside the belly of that community.”

– Brother Resistance

JUSTICE. Culture. Freedom.

When we remember Lutalo Masimba, Brother Resistance, these are the words we will use. Drawing breath from Lancelot Layne, Marley, Garvey, Cheryl Byron, Butler and Ture, Resistance popularised a musical form of rebellion that came to be known as rapso.

For those who try to explain rapso, it is easy to rattle off “the power of the word in the riddum of the word.”

But what do these words really mean? For me, the key to this music and to the man who sang it with a bell in his hand, lies in the other part of the explanation – “Rapso riddum is influenced by the rhythms of the steelband yards, the Orisha yards and the drum yards.”

East Port of Spain was the place of his birth and remained his inspiration. Laventille, Piccadilly, Behind the Bridge, Dry River. In the 1950s, 60s and 70s, these economically impoverished areas were the source of vibrant cultural expressions; from calypso to pan, traditional Carnival characters and folk forms influenced by African culture.

East Port of Spain, Belmont and surrounding areas were also a ferment of socio-political rebellion. “Light up the chalice, leh we run the vampire.” From Makandal Daaga to the Pinetoppers mas band, resistance to inequality and oppression became intertwined with empowerment through culture.

“Rock the colonial order,/Leh we rock the colonial order.” Ideologically influenced by anti-colonial thought and Pan Africanism, Resistance understood that despite breaking free of British rule, our leaders had failed to free us. Thus, he sang about corruption that allowed a select few to benefit from the wealth of the country or an education curriculum that did little to build national pride.

“Rapso is the voice of the people in the heart of the struggle.” As a voice for change, Brother Resistance identified with the powerful African tradition of the griot or storyteller. He often drew reference to the storytellers of the TT Carnival – midnight robber and pierrot – but also cast himself as a chantwell, a warrior of the word in the cultural gayelle.

For him, our natural way of speaking was part of that “poetic identity,” the “twang” he wanted to encourage. He consistently stressed the importance of implementing local content guidelines to ensure that rapso and other forms of local music had an opportunity not just to be heard, but to inspire pride in younger generations.

Along with his expanding group of supporters, he mentored young people who connected with his musical activism. This spawned powerful new voices of the rapso genre and led to outlets such as Rapso History Month and Rapso Fest. He agitated for soca and calypso to be played outside of Carnival to allow for a year-long focus on local culture and create opportunities for sustainable income for artists.

“Calypso is the rhythm that help to nurture my life.” In one of the ironies in the world of culture, Resistance enjoyed a long tenure as the head of the national calypso organisation.

Initially, rapso was seen as being at odds with calypso. Many questioned its validity as a musical form.

Not surprisingly, Resistance was always clear about the connections. In the song Never Ever Worry with calypso legend Lord Pretender he says, “From rapso to kaiso/Mix de ting.” For him calypsonians were his first teachers, the first professionals in the education system.

Justice. Culture. Freedom. I think we need one more word – Faith. Resistance believed that this music would “build bridges across humanity” and “lead the way to stamp out oppression in this life.” Forty years ago, Brother Resistance began a musical mission to highlight social inequities and treat with violence in our communities.

Did he achieve his mission? Certainly, he forced the “so-called authorities of music” to accept this new cultural form. But, like many other artists, I suspect he left this realm yearning for true inclusion of the arts.

The positive and humble man I knew would say that “victory is certain because you move with the power of the most high God.”

But the cheeky artist I knew would say we already know the answer. Eh? Is wot? Is rapso.