In defence of our Carnival story

Carnival Stories

Dara E Healy

“Another West African motif…is the hat worn by the midnight robber. This hat is a replica of chiefs’ hats worn in the coastal area of Nigeria between Lagos and Calabar…it integrates, by its tassels fringing the brim, indigenous icons of chieftaincy such as the beaded tassels hanging from certain kings’ crowns among the Yoruba.”

– Maureen Warner Lewis, Guinea’s Other Suns

HAVE YOU ever thought about the meaning behind some of the words, phrases or even costumes we portray at Carnival? For instance, what does the tamboo in tamboo bamboo mean? Where did the term Road March come from? Further, as the discussion about elitism and separation in Carnival grows, how did the practice of having separate bands evolve?

We take for granted that people choose to enjoy Carnival by playing in different costume bands. Modern bands have themes, colours and banners identifying themselves for judges and onlookers. Understandably, the Carnival of former enslaved Africans was more spontaneous and less structured than our festival today.

Carnival was celebrated on August 1, the date of the Emancipation proclamation in British colonies. The former enslaved turned the horror of how they were treated into acts of resistance, rebellion and empowerment. An important freedom ritual was the re-enactment of putting out fires in cane fields, called Cannes Brulees or Canboulay in patois. Through the research of Maureen Warner-Lewis, we are now familiar with Kambule (Canboulay), the Kikongo word for procession.

In the 1870s and 80s more groups masqueraded as bands. By 1900, we saw for the first time “each with a distinctive banner, bearing a title and a motto.” This was not entirely by choice. Laws consistently chipped away at traditional masquerades and the music of the Africans, forcing more conformity.

Additionally, there was considerable rivalry among the various bands and the colonial government, upper classes and media seized on this as yet another reason to ban Carnival. Ostensibly, safety was their concern as “throughout the second half of the 19th century, Canboulay and stickfighting dominated the masquerade.”

Music was essential for both the stickfight and the masquerade. After drums were banned, tamboo-bamboo music emerged, establishing a direct link to similar bands in West Africa. Tamboo comes from
tambour, French for drum. The first records of tamboo bamboo emerged around the early 1900s. The music developed along lines similar to the drum, with one bamboo keeping the rhythm and others providing bass, cutter and different sounds, depending on the width and length of the bamboo.

The campaign to "clean up" Carnival affected tamboo bamboo as well. One of the strategies was to introduce competitions organised and promoted by specific sponsors. As recently as the early 1900s there were calls by the upper classes, newspapers and the church to abolish Carnival. Errol Hill notes that a 1919 competition which was supposed “to keep Carnival a festival of the people ironically excluded all maskers attended by bamboo-and-bottle musicians.”

Fortunately, masqueraders had already mastered the art of resistance and reinvention. In the 1930s during global depression and unrest at home, bands portrayed poor living conditions in the city and unfair work practices. And in the 50s and 60s old mask bands mocked the hypocrisy of the upper classes and the injustice of the government.

Every year as Carnival closes we analyse and guess who will win the Road March. Errol Hill recalls that calinda (kalinda) songs were “composed primarily to be played and sung by the dancing, promenading masquerade bands on Carnival days.”

It is said that calinda rhythms influenced some of the more popular road march calypsoes such as Mighty Sparrow’s Ten to One is Murder. Interestingly, the most popular calypsoes on the road were called "leggoes," later changed to "Roadmarch King" as part of the continued "improvement" of the festival.

In 2024, calls to clean up or abolish Carnival are muted, but the discomfort of previous centuries lingers. Some are still not quite sure about this festival and its place in our lives. As noted by various commentators, our country continues to miss the opportunity to establish a true connection between Carnival and the people, to allocate resources and integrate it into our education system.

Yet, in the panyards, mas camps and studios, ordinary people are clear. We will continue to create and search for greater understanding of our festival. Carnival is grounded in resistance and resilience – an ancient, amazing story that we will continue to tell.

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