The legendary Savannah

Culture Matters

DARA E HEALY

If you coming down from the mountains, oh God, oh

When the rhythm beating in town

See we jumping on the

The Savannah grass, the Savannah grass

You could see it all when the dust raise

Oh, Lord, oh

When the people tell yuh they cannot wait

Oh, God, oh

When the spirit jumping in town we coming around

The Savannah grass, the Savannah grass

­­– Kes, Savannah Grass

A CLOUD OF dust emerges from the east. Inside, moving sihouettes push pans. Fearless, confident. La-van-tille Road! La-van-tille Road coming down! Clear the way for renowned steelband, Despers. Memories of the North Stand from back in the day, when true pan aficionados poured scorn on those in the Grand Stand, sitting there with "they stoosh self."

Back then, the only way to enjoy pan was on your feet, the North Stand bouncing and moving, no fear that the temporary structure would give out. Back then, people in the North Stand also listened to pan.

The Savannah stage. Constructed over race tracks, dust, grass and the spirits of ancestors who did not survive the brutality of enslavement, but who endure still in the winds of Oya and the rains of Osun. Whose spirits and energies swirl centuries later, if you observe and take the time to listen.

“As much as people categorise (Carnival) as rum and fetes and debauchery in some cases, it is a spiritual ritual,” said Kes in a recent interview. "Beyond the party and the economics of it, there is a deeper message."

As we edge closer to our festival, the Savannah once again comes into focus. One of the first Parades of the Band took place at the Savannah in 1946. Originally a sugar estate ironically called Paradise, the land was purchased by the government of the day from the Peschiers. Over 200 acres of land, the space was named for Queen Victoria in the 1830s. From enslavement, to grazing cows and horse racing, the face of the Savannah has consistently changed throughout the centuries.

Yet, in many ways, the space embodies freedom, release and sometimes even conquest. “We reach in de Savannah.” “Find your way everybody on stage.” “Trample the ground now.” It inspires performance art, the desire to zanté, show off, misbehave and "explatiate."

But the Savannah is also about commercial contestation and attempts at creative control. Over 100 years ago, the first competition in the Savannah was organised by the Trinidad Guardian with the intention of exercising more control over the festival.

Demands for greater remuneration in the mas actually began over 70, almost 80 years ago. Attempts to "clean up" and monetise the festival caused special interests to take sides, as each felt their demands had the most validity. If you can believe it, in 1960 George Bailey won Band of the Year and received a first prize of $500.

After World War II, some members of the corporate sector became increasingly aggressive about turf and profits where Carnival was concerned. The main rivalry took place between Patrick Jones of the Carnival Bands Union and James Smith of the Savannah Carnival Committee.

As their feud deepened, Jones challenged members of the Carnival Bands Union to “play for amusement” because of the small prize monies. Eventually, Smith, who was in charge of the Trinidad Carnival Competition Committee, organised several events at the Savannah, including a Dimanche Gras Carnival Queen Competition with local celebrities and eminent nationals as judges. The Carnival Bands Union could not compete.

Through it all, the Savannah remains an integral aspect of our identity. This is captured poignantly in Earl Lovelace’s Dragon Can’t Dance, as the author explores the struggle of Pariag the East Indian, to fit in and feel validated. “Colts would stammer out, at the sound of an uproar from the crowd, ‘Who-who score?’ And Pariag, who always kept track of these things in this very quiet way, would tell him. Their conversation did not go far beyond this…In the Savannah with the excitement of football games, it was hard to make friends. To people there he was Channa Boy.”

The story of the Savannah is an evolving one, but some aspects never change. The dust, the euphoria, the creativity and the ritual of welcoming the spirit of the mas. And of course, beneath the famous stage and all around it, the ancestors are always there –watching, awaiting their full respect.

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