Celebrating life

Culture Matters

DARA E HEALY

Mih great-great-grandmother then said to me

Bomber, darling, "The best things in life are free."

So I hire a truck and went down by Courts

Looking for the best things of every sort

I pick up a computer, well, how you mean?

Radio, video, stereo, TV, washing machine

And when the store manager confronted me

I say, "Partners, the best things in life are free."

But they call the police and lock up mih tail

And they give me some free years in the Royal Jail.

Oh mih lord-o! I wanna fall! Sing it out, girls!

– Mighty Bomber, Proverbs

IN 1921, when Railway Douglas put up a bamboo tent to host calypso performances, he could not have known how this simple act would influence the calypso history of our nation. Charging a penny to patrons, the kaiso tent provided a space to showcase music that would impact the world.

From Atilla the Hun to Tiger, Pretender and Lord Executor, calypsonians of the 1930s set the standard for calypso commentary. They were part of an early movement of resistance to colonial attempts to silence calypso defiance.

However, the passage and subsequent amendment of laws like the Theatres and Dance Hall Ordinance did not stop calypsonians such as Pharaoh from singing The Governor Tall, Tall, Tall in 1948. In the late 1940s, Commissioner of Police Muller attempted to frustrate Atilla as a tent manager by issuing performance licences on a daily basis, rather than for the season.

Always defiant, it is said that amidst consistent attacks on calypso, one night Atilla extemporised, “There are police spies sitting around/Taking shorthand notes of my song/But I can tell them independently/That they can tell their masters for me/Never mind what measures are employed/Kaiso is art and cannot be destroyed/And centuries to come I’d have them know/People will still be singing kaiso.”

These qualities of resistance and resilience are the foundation on which the practitioners of the art form who transitioned this year built their own craft. Calypsonian Bomber with his unbelievable wit and extempo flair. Explainer with his sensitivity and genuine love for his homeland as demonstrated in the lyrical song Lorraine. Kenny J who effortlessly straddled different musical genres. And Black Stalin who had an enduring belief in the ordinary people of TT and the Caribbean to determine their own path. This conviction shone through in Black Man Feeling to Party, where he returned dignity to black love and the reputation of black men.

I believe that for them, Carnival was their “dynamic centre of energy,” to borrow a phrase from Gordon Rohlehr. But if Carnival gave these calypso giants energy, then soca was the fuel of life for another remarkable artist. Blaxx consistently inspired with his message of never giving up and pushing through the challenges of life.

This year, I also lost my Uncle George, George Lamming. Another constant in the life of our family, his transitioning left a void that I am attempting to fill by reading and rereading his books. Over the years, I have written too many dedications of mourning for artists like Leroy Clarke, Brother Resistance, Singing Sandra, Shadow and so many others who framed this space called TT in a particular way.

Are my tears selfish? Perhaps, but though we accept that this is part of the cycle of life, I am certain the pit in my stomach embodies the sense of loss we all feel. Their gifts helped to make life much easier to comprehend and we just prefer to have them here.

I also spent much of this year engaging with youth and communities floundering in a rising tide of abuse, family dysfunction and mental decline. In this scenario, it was the arts – spoken word, dance, visual arts, theatre or carnival arts – that helped to alleviate their despair.

As we face another year, I once again appeal for the arts to be given more opportunities to empower those most in need of the healing, in our schools and homes. And for our creative organisations to be grounded in the ideology that motivated those early calypsonians – our art is what is important, nothing else.

So, as we head into 2023, to Blaxx I give the final words: “We only have one life to live, so I living it like if it’s meh last, like if it’s meh last/Keep living life like if it’s yuh last.”

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