How King Speechmaker saved his village

A traditional mas Christmas

Dara E Healy

“Greetings to all and sundry

Is Pierrot again

Here to tell allyuh a story

’
bout how King Speechmaker

Land up in a state ah perplexity.

Come back to he Tobago land

To enjoy Christmas and family

Only to face endless stress and big adversity

But King Speechmaker decide

With this state of affairs

He not satisfied

So come, and we go see

Whether he succeed in escaping

A Christmas calamity.”

WAYNE stood on the hill looking down at the little village on the coast. Its beauty still took his breath away. Thoughts of pulling seine, singing work songs and playing barefoot in the sand swirled. He had been away from this view for too long, building a successful career, travelling the world. Memories of the community speech band stories and battles had kept him going. In those days he was known as King Speechmaker.

He got in the car and headed to the village. There were a few new food places and guest houses, but the smell and feel of the place were the same. Quiet and solid, enveloped in an energy of waiting. He went searching for familiar places, like the house where one of his favourite cousins lived. It was no longer there, just stumps of concrete and bush. Eventually, he found an Auntie, probably now in her 70s or 80s.

“Wait! Is you Wayne? Come, come. You looking hungry.” She immediately organised some bake and saltfish her daughter had made and when she asked what he wanted to drink, of course he said, “Cocoa tea.”

He and Auntie Sylvie talked about the speech band days. Some of his friends had passed on, others had moved away. “This place was always too small fuh allyuh,” Auntie said with a touch of sadness. “Everything change up now. People not as together as before. More crime, young people not in school. Not much people pulling seine again. It have some people trying to keep up the speech band, but…” Auntie Sylvie shrugged her shoulders as if to say it is what it is.

Wayne unpacked in his old family home. He felt sad and a little guilty that he had not stayed to help keep the village traditions alive. Over the following days his feelings of guilt increased as Auntie’s story was repeated everywhere he went. Too many young people moving away, not enough togetherness, loss of traditions.

One night, as he sat looking at the moon cast her light over the bay, his mind cleared. He knew what he needed to do.

He got busy, contacting the head of the village council, leader of the youth organisation, the pastor, head of the fishing association, and other elders. He visited the guest houses, ate at the food places and bought rounds for the people in the bar. Christmas was coming and Wayne was going to put on a speech band battle in the lead-up to the holidays.

Posters went up in the library, church, post office and down by the fishing centre. Businesses sponsored prizes. Wayne arranged for guest performers from the other villages that were accustomed to featuring big in the Tobago Heritage Festival.

He also did workshops on speech band, about the battles that used to take place, and traditions like the mesh face mask that was part of the original costume. He included notable historians to talk about preserving and promoting the history and culture of Tobago.

In the end, Wayne pulled together the village to organise a full-fledged festival, complete with storytelling and dirt oven, under old-time bamboo huts covered with coconut leaves. For the first time in years, Wayne’s village was buzzing.

Wayne put on his speech band costume and the boat-shaped hat with fringes that he had crafted with his own hands. He looked at himself in the mirror, flicking the sword and practising his speech. “Check one, check two.” He could hear the DJ setting up and people gathering for the festival. No more guilt; his heart was bursting with pride again. He went to meet Auntie Sylvie, who smiled as she took his arm.

The speech bands were assembled, ready for battle. Drummers and dancers were whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Then it was time. Wayne, King Speechmaker, stepped forward, his costume shimmering in the light. “Stop yuh drum Mr Drummer!” And the crowd roared in response, “Oh ha hai!” Wayne never left the village again.

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