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My J’ouvert Vibes/STEVE CLARKE
Upon realizing that I would be unable to travel to T&T for the expressed purposes of ‘Carnivalia’ 2021 due to the COVID-19 lock-down, I chose to reflect on the salve of a memorable carnival encounter of years gone by, in an effort to soothe the pain of my gut-wrenching cultural tabanca.
Have you ever heard a tune and you took to it from its first note of music? And, as its lyrics progressed, they seemed to be telling your story, word-for-word? Well folks, that 2012 Farmer Nappy [FN] groovy soca masterpiece “Chippin”, succinctly captured one of my Carnival occurrences, of almost a couple of decades previous to its release.
Back then, after many years of involvement in Carnival costume production, I felt the need to change the portal of my contribution to the annual celebrations. As a result, I transitioned to playing pan – #IamaRenegade – despite admonitions from my peers. Their myriad quips included – “You going to play in what band?” …..“Har Lord! You har to be crazy! Dat band is for young people, boy!”….. “Dey does play fast, fast, fast – you cyar keep up wid dat!” ….“And to besides, Jit music real hard to play, yuh know!” Yet, despite my friends’ most discouraging though well-intended appeals, I eagerly accepted the mantle of being the oldest ‘rookie’ to ever grace a pan-yard.
Some two years later, I experienced my first panorama victory. It was a most significant triumph to my mind, especially considering our painful misfortune of being placed third the previous year, with the Bees’ Melody.
Nonetheless, the band returned to the ruling roost in the year in question, exacting musical revenge with a most ruthless victory. Ruthless in the sense that we took no prisoners, as back then our mission statement was simply ‘who can’t hear, go feel de music!’ And feel it they did.
It was a pole-to-pole triumph, leading the points tally from ‘prelims’, thru zonal finals, to national semis and the grand finals. Lord Kitchener’s Mystery Band was our tune of choice and keeping true to its lyrics, our interpretation effected torrential downpours of the harmonic ilk, washing away all before us.
That Carnival we ruled the town. J’ouvert morning and throughout Monday, the band ‘pied-pipered’ its way through the city, drawing wall-to-wall, waist-shaking masses from every nook and cranny, with its sweet infectious music. At nightfall, after securing the instruments in the pan-yard, the players were advised to have an early rest in order to return on Tuesday to continue our musical plunder of the city.
FN — “My baby told me that she loves me, she really needs me,
and she always will be right there by my side.”
As I arrived in my house the phone rang. It was a very, very dear friend who had departed our shores some six months previously to live abroad. She had returned to T&T on a flight earlier that day and her voice echoed excitement and urgency – “I’m back in town, babz! I had to run away from the ‘cold’ for a couple days!” [Sadly, and thanks to COVID-19, the ‘luxury’ of embarking on such a vital respite today, is no longer possible.] “Oh gosh, boy! It has been sooo long! Meet me by Flour Mills, nuh! I heading down there now-now with a couple relatives, to take in some ‘Monday Night Mas’.”
Jumping at the opportunity to rekindle, I was back out of the house in a flash, not even bothering to exact a change of clothing. With brief introductions to her family out of the way, we proceeded to catch up on our respective lives while awaiting the arrival of the next band.
After what seemed like an eternity, a steel-band swung out from French St. I do not remember its name, nor the tune it was playing. All I know is that I was still wearing my ‘Gades jersey, still riding high on that victorious crest, and being in the company of this dear friend was all-the-more reason to continue celebrating in fine style.
Furthermore, on being accepted as a full-fledged member of my Charlotte Street band, I was imbued with a spirit of invincibility based on its historical musical excellence and deportment. And this was my ‘multiple-indefinite visa’ to venture into any other band, as the lyrics of Lord Invader’s lavway Ten Thousand To Bar Me One, would portend.
And thus, we joined the band and continued westward along Wrightson Road wrapped in the allure of each other’s company.
FN–“But ah know all you men are watching, I know you lusting –
your body’s longing for this girl of mine.”
As per usual, the male-to-female ratio of revelers was stacked in favour of the former, who lurked apprehensively both in the band and on the sidewalk. Whether operating alone or in packs, for them the ‘hunt’ was on. Every female in the band was under their purview and it would just be a matter of time before they pounced on their respective ‘victims’. These prying, watchful eyes adopted ‘night-vision’ discernment regarding the nuances of everyone in the band.
After all, it is many a man’s (and by the same token, many a woman’s) dream of ‘picking-up a sweet ting in a band’ and ‘setting up scenes so that they could get thru later on. And so, engulfed in this seemingly viscid air of dust and lust-or-bust, the band wended its way down the road.
FN — “I know yuh watching, but dat ain’t nuthin.”
Now, I might seem biased – and yes, I was – but my friend was a most captivating species of womanhood. She had more ‘form’ than a person trying to import a bullet-proofed and armoured SUV into T&T, and her intellect was off the charts. True to form, many an envious soul was casting furtive glances our way. However, we were not really ‘studying them’ – we were so cosily into each other. Who want to watch, that is dem business.
The band then turned north into Hamilton-Holder Street, and as we approached the Woodbrook Youth Center, I quietly advised my friend and her family that I had to make a quick ‘pit-stop’. Retiring quickly to a nearby alleyway, I parted company with the Stag beers that had accumulated in my system, all the while anticipating getting even closer to my ‘horsey’ when I rejoined the band.
On the way back, I navigated through a tempestuous sea of merrymakers, using her gleaming fitted white jeans up ahead as a beacon. Said apparel seemed to brighten and tighten, the nearer I drew. And even before I reached that final port of destination, I could already feel the comforting warmth of her body once again. I, therefore, lengthened my stride.
FM – “Doh try to come between me and my woman.”
Photo courtesy Dr. Kim Johnson, Foremost Steelband History Researcher
I was no more than six footsteps away when a figure darted surreptitiously from the shadows on the left side and affixed itself to my friend’s rear-end – right before my very eyes.
“But what de arse is this, boy? Just so?” I murmured to myself. “He mad, or what?” I felt robbed, cheated, disenfranchised. However, I was already propelling full steam ahead, intent on delivering this copious consignment of amorous intent to my beloved, so recalibrating my course was not a viable option.
Momentum transported me straight ahead and a half-second after he held her, I was on him with the deadly swiftness of a Mapepire Zanana (aka Bushmaster). One can imagine the horrific shock that must have jolted my poor friend’s body – she never saw him coming. But then again, neither did he see me coming.
FM – “Know dat yuh want it, but you can’t have it.”
There was no escape from my vise-like grip around his waist. And in that same instant, I released the full ‘payload’ on him – I gave him the ‘one-foot’ wine, the ‘two-foot’ wine, the ‘dog-jook’ all in rapid succession while biting my bottom lip in concentrated disdain. In retrospect, any officer-of-the-law observing that display would have charged me with ‘performing an indignity’ – only, on a live body.
The encounter with that misguided individual lasted no more than 7 seconds. With a startled cry, he released his hold, and in the midst of confusion shifted his body to escape the enigma that was desecrating his background. This allowed me to snugly regain my rightful place.
FM – “Never lose your mind and try to take my woman.”
The satisfaction I felt was immense. Brimming with affectionate gratitude, my friend liquesced deeper into the safety of my arms while her relatives laughed nervously, nodding their heads in approval.
Additionally, in that split second, there were some scandalous peals of laughter emanating from behind me. Still hanging on tightly, I took a quick glance over my shoulder only to be met with a group of three young men, all in drenched in mirth and amazement at what had just transpired.
Apparently, they were all buddies of the one seemingly affected with temporary insanity and it was a good thing that I did not instinctively resort to cat-spraddling their trespassing friend because I would not have known when I got ‘tagged’, or from whence it came.
It appears that the unexpected and slapdash comicality of the situation saved me from any immediate retribution. Still, having dissed their riding-partner, I was certain that this prevalence of good sense on their part, would not last indefinitely throughout the night.
FM – “Ah chippin down de road wid mey own woman.
Mey own woman! Mey own woman!
At this point, my ‘babes’, her family, and I executed an unchoreographed but deliberate ‘wine to the side’, only to dissipate into the shadowy cover of the crowded sidewalk.
Later that night, as we were standing on the pavement by Adam Smith Sq and submerged in a mass of humanity, I saw the same group of four guys marauding the Avenue, they now seemed incredibly tense and were peering intently through the throng all around them, as if searching for something (or someone(s)?). Hopefully, they found same.
Steve Clarke has been heavily involved with T&T Carnival since 1970 and to this day, is still ‘playing ah mas’ in all facets of life!