Pan in de Dry River

Pan beating

Whole night in the Dry River

We all hearing

But can’t see this orchestra

Well, another thing confusing the whole public

You could only hear the band when rain fall

We had to believe this mystery was sheer magic

Why it is we can’t see this band at all

– Lord Kitchener, De Mystery Band

EAST DRY River, Port of Spain. If you can imagine, at one point it was the centre of the capital city. Barrack housing, built to accommodate former enslaved, African indentured workers and others, lined narrow streets, spreading outwards to places like Laventille, Belmont and Yoruba Village.

The river that ran through the centre of the city was diverted to facilitate the development of the capital. Eventually the riverbed was paved to prevent erosion of the structures near the water. If you can imagine, it was here – below the level of the streets, the bars and simple shacks – it was here on the bed of the river that an alternative form of community life emerged. And at its centre, the pan.

This week, the Carnival Museum opened an exhibition featuring paintings by Joseph Charles focused on the steelpan, its link to the city and East Dry River. “The Dry River, as it is most fondly known, became a playground for many who lived in that area. Children, as well as adults, used it for sport, such as cricket and football…”

Historian Angelo Bissessarsingh also wrote about children playing in the shade of the trees and women washing at the higher parts of the river where it was clean enough.

East Dry River was the centre of a bustling town. In his book Iron Love, Patrick Roberts recalls that cooking oil and soda biscuits in tins were available in abundance to feed the throngs of people who moved through the city daily, and that many of the industries which supplied the early metal drums were in East Port of Spain.

Roberts notes that it is possible the Africans who came, particularly after emancipation, were attempting to recreate the metallic sound of the marimba, an African instrument played with two sticks. Today, there is growing recognition of the influence of the Yoruba Ifa/Orisha belief system on the development of pan, a connection we will explore another time.

It seems that there was an almost mythical link between the steelpan and the Dry River. Lord Kitchener’s De Mystery Band is sung in a very haunting key, telling of a steelband that everyone could hear but not see. And the only time this magical music could be heard was when it was pouring with rain and the riverbed flooded.

There are some iconic landmarks in the city connected to the pan. One of Charles’s paintings shows a steelband passing in front of the Lucky Jordan Recreational Club. Interestingly, around the band are traditional Carnival characters, including a bat, a midnight robber and even stick-fighters engaged in battle.

Green Corner, the area around St Vincent Street and Globe Cinema, was notorious for steelband clashes. Mighty Sparrow adopts a fighting stance in his calypso Rope. “They were pelting and fighting/Trying to spoil a sound lime/Ah want them know ah ain’t making joke/This year ah walk with meh rope.”

Lord Kitchener adopts a different tactic, encouraging Margie, who is sweet on him (so he says), to “…pick me up by Green Corner/Now that yuh inside de band/You could move as yuh like/’Cause you wit yuh man/So darlin’ make yuh play/An’ start to ding-o-lay.”

The euphoria that we feel over the declaration of August 11 as World Steelpan Day is understandable.

We acknowledge the work of those in authority for this achievement, so important for the visibility of our national instrument and our culture.

But beyond the excitement, there are serious gaps that must be addressed.

An official declaration of our national instrument would help encourage investment in this music that the world has already claimed. A permanent, public venue that acknowledges the pan players who hid in the East Dry River to perfect the instrument is necessary. And sustained support must be provided to panyards to help mould them into spaces of transformation for future generations.

We give thanks to the creators of the pan, for their vision and response to the ancestral call to create such magical music. Yes, we celebrate, but the pan is still calling to us from the Dry River.

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