Carnival Tabanaca (loosely translated as an extreme melancholy caused by the end of the Carnival season) is real! This year was my first experience in Trinidad for the annual carnival, and I think I aptly summed up its overall effect on me as being… LIFE! Yes, Carnival is LIFE!
Carnival is the explosion of everything necessary to brag to the world that you have truly lived… and survived to tell the tale. Carnival is enjoyed with a vulgar passion that can only be dragged out by copious amounts of power Soca and booze, but is a tradition in which participants (masqueraders) display worlds of respect, good will, and camaraderie.
While the spirit of Carnival is at its strongest the two days before Ash Wednesday, when thousands take to the streets of Trinidad to jump, wine and just get-on for as much as 14-hours, the season lasts much longer. Carnival season is dotted with fetes (parties), concerts and competitions. The fetes are often all-inclusive and sometimes begin in the wee hours of the morning. The competition of Soca Monarch is a spectacle featuring world-renown names like Machel Montano, staging world-class productions for audiences in the thousands. And the concerts, like Machel Monday, are second to none.
As the Bahamas dreams up its own ideas about what this country’s Carnival (2015) should be moulded into, there are some obvious things that a Bahamas carnival in its fledgling stages will not become.
Firstly, Trinidadians have perfected the party culture - Bahamians simply have not. Trinidadians have been the only group of people to have proven to me that a large body of inebriated souls can be corralled into one steaming orgy of music, mud and madness, and everyone leaves unscathed, and happy. Of course, here, I’m talking about Jouvert, a party where mud and paint are recklessly flecked onto all and sundry and none and sundry are slighted by the colourful confrontation. There have been several attempts at a Jouvert party here – none to write home about. In fact, many patrons did not come dressed to receive generous globs of paint, and so a handful (including me) did our best to Jouvert amongst the formally-clad weirdos.
The problem is not that a properly formatted and well attended Jouvert party could not be pulled off here, the problem is the attitude toward each other that seems to be engrained in the culture of our people. As stated by several Bahamians who joined me on the Carnival quest this year: “Our people just don’t know how to behave.” And it is true, and is something we need to fix. But, spoiling the vibe of carnival goes beyond personal safety and the incessant worry of the outbreak of a brawl.
Yuma, the Carnival band I and other Bahamians played Mas with on Carnival Monday and Tuesday, clearly states in its handbook’s ‘code of conduct’ section that there will be no “kicks” and no “mixing of matters” on the road. To compliment the code’s how ‘not’ to behave section is the code on how ‘to’ behave, and a key element is that nobody is to be “stush” (or stuck-up for us Bahamians). Our people can wine, bubble, jam and roll as good as the next Caribbean island, but Bahamians may have perfected being guarded and standoff-ish – something anyone who goes to carnival will tell you is party foul numero uno.
While everyone has the right to refuse someone’s ‘tiefin’ a wine’ on their behind, part of the allure of Carnival and the bonding between masqueraders in the band, was just taking a quick, harmless, one-minute wine with some stranger and then politely carrying on with your pumping (as the Trinis would say). Having attempted to tief many a wine in clubs in the Bahamas, I know how detrimental this can be to one’s health and new wardrobe. However, this is part of the essence of Carnival Monday and Tuesday and a paramount reason I know Trinidadians know how to party safely and respectfully. I dismounted many a masquerading lady with a smile and a nod, and continued chipping down de road – I have a feeling this would not be the case with a Bahamas Carnival (I hope I’m wrong).
This point of wining on a woman/man while playing Mas segues nicely into my next concern. Our “conservative”, “Christian” views on this type of revelry (I say our in the sense of the Bahamian collective, while excluding my no-behaviour self). The chatter amongst the Bahamians leaving Trinidad on Ash Wednesday focused on that controversial body we call the Christian Council. What will they think? How will they view what I’m sure they know to be a mass party of nothing but half-naked people drinking and carrying-on?
What would they say of these Bahamian masqueraders freely expressing themselves and enjoying the movements of their own bodies and others’ on the road, in public?
Carnival seems to have had nil much negative effects on the countries that have their own. Of course, where you gather huge bodies of people someone is bound to act foolish, but in Trinidad, around my band, I saw none. And so I await the debate from the holders of our moral, ethical and spiritual pacifiers.
What would carnival be without music? What would the music be like at a Bahamian Carnival? While I would love to pump to power soca all day and night, a Bahamian Carnival would have to make room for our local artists to create the sort of beats and lyrics that want to make us keep moving. Bahamian artist Dyson Knight has it right with his recent tune that carries the lyrics, “back that bumper pon me”. This is Carnival, of course I want you to ‘back that bumper pon me’, and I don’t mind if I ‘tief a wine’. If Dyson can create such a groovy tune worthy of any Trinidad band’s sound truck, then a Bahamas Carnival might have something special in its future. I await, with my busted Carnival sneakers on, the release of more of these kinds of Bahamian tunes.
Not only is the music of Carnival of such importance that you dream about it for days after, but it plays an important part in spreading the message of carnival. The majority of soca music blasted out on the road contains a positive message of fun and fancy free frolic – no stush allowed.
Where we do have the Trinis beat (sorry my Trini friends) is in costume design and building, though in recent times we have taken to copying some of their style. However, while some bands are keen on having their costumes judged to win, the bands have already won by selling their high-priced carnival outfits to their masqueraders. Something tells me the competition matters not after 3,000 people drop US $550+ on your carnival costume.
Putting a band together, though, is no small, inexpensive feat. Yuma alone had around 14 trucks needing 14 industrial-sized generators, not to mention the staffing to corral and give drink to 3,000 people. It is an amazing thing that comes together.
Thus, the economics of Carnival for Trinidad and other countries that throw the largest party on earth makes sense. Individuals come from as far as Japan to take part in the this most anticipated of events. And street vendors go pauper to prince in one month. If the Bahamas can build its Carnival brand to the size of localized Carnivals such as are held in Miami or Orlando, we could have something special in the early stages - not to mention lucrative. It is my wish that the Carnival Bahamas planners create something unique, but do not try to reinvent the wheel. Bring to the Bahamas what many Bahamians already know and love and then expand from there.
It is my wish that by the time we roll out a Bahamas Carnival, our attitudes toward each other will have changed and crime subdued. There is too much jealousy and rage and infidelity on our streets. In Trinidad, when the sound trucks fire up and begin their creep toward the stage, you become one with the music and the world and appreciate everyone and everything around you*. It is my wish that the Bahamas have a successful, safe and ‘wotless’ Carnival, chock full of masqueraders with no behavior winin’ down to de ground, ground, ground ground… *experiences may differ
Chester Robards amongst the masqueraders of YUMA at on Carnival Monday at Trinidad Carnival 2014.
