V. A Night of Festivities! — Jeff McNish

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I played a wedding Saturday.  Briefly, anyway.  After that, I had achieved guest status.

My contact was, Mr. Coy, the father of the bride.  He’s a club-footed tailor who plays some guitar and fiddle.  I don’t understand a lot of what he says; he has a gruff, barking manner.  I had been walking around Hillsborough and people were admiring my ukulele.  A guy (Cecil, one of the Brunswick Strugglers) pulled me into Mr. Coy’s shack/shop where he played my uke.  Tailor Coy’s residence is across the street from the tennis courts, a shed with two windows, a bare wood floor, some clothes thrown around, a bed in a space behind a partition and a bar where they sell beer and Jack Iron

Evening of the 2013 Competition. Todd DeCoteau playing my Tahitian Ukulele and Justin Henry, who played rhythm on a 20-gallon drum and I’m holding a jug of Jack Iron

Friday, I’d left my guitar with him as I had wandered around to Windward and back.  I came back the next morning and played him a little guitar (“My Happiness” and “Mocking Bird Hill” seem to be recognized hits on the island if you can’t hack Parang) and he said, “Come to mi daughter’s wedding.”

He said to come at 2:30, but that must have been at the church.  I hung out at the Silver Beach Hotel till about 4:30 when people really started showing up.  I don’t get it:  This has to have been one of the bigger weddings on the island — there were probably 300 people and everyone was dressed better than me.  The women — this is an island of 6,000 people, where do they get prom-style dresses? — were all shiny and tight with enough hair-extensions to moor a cruise ship. Men had ties and flowered shirts and those guyabera shirts you get in Acapulco and hip black styles and everybody wore black shoes.  There was an MC smoothing and announcing the proceedings like a radio show and a DJ with a powerful sound system.

All I had to do was hang out with Mr. Coy, two guitar players, and a banjo player.  We played some tunes out on the hotel driveway waiting for the bride and groom to arrive and then when they did arrive, we played for them through the hotel (about 40 feet) into the restaurant/beach/bar area.  Job complete. 

Windward, Carriacou

Then I hung out and enjoyed the scene.  Apparently, the groom has a lot of family living in New York and New Jersey, so that accounted for some of the fancy crowd.  I talked with a few people.  I especially enjoyed the people getting up offering the couple words of advice, hope and encouragement: “Keep God foremost in your lives and everything else will follow.”  It took an hour at least. 

The older ones are such cool speakers.  Every parent (and some “adopted” parents) spoke except for Mr. Coy who was across the room hanging out at the bar with his crew.  Perhaps Mr. Coy is the biological father with some rights but who isn’t that much in the picture these days—everyone seemed a little more sophisticated than Tailor Coy.  I think his daughter and her functional parents now live in Petit Martinique, an island smaller than Carriacou five miles to the northeast. 

Petit Martinique

It was cool.  Then I went to get my guitar and uke, where I’d left them in a corner–I’d been checking on them every so often–and they were gone.  Oops.  Damn. 

I ran out to the driveway and asked some guys sitting there if they’d seen someone go out with a guitar. 

“Yes.  Not five minutes ago.  If you run you can catch him,” someone said.

Well, I ran, but I didn’t catch up with anyone.  I think I ran the wrong way, but I got directed to the police station, where they took down my info and sent an officer to investigate.  Then I ran back to the hotel and (probably because I’m white and conspicuous) the guys on the driveway recognized me and told the officer the name of the man who took my guitar. 

“Joseph N. He’s not right in the head.  He can’t work, so sometimes he take tings.” 

Then they told the officer where he lives–“You know the alley over by the power station?”  During the wait to see what would happen, I had a nice conversation about music with a guy from Windward who had backed the Mighty Sparrow on guitar when he came to Carriacou. The guy also told me:

“Don’t worry… Everybody knows you. Nobody is going to take your guitar.”*

This after I’d been on the island five days. 

Just then the officer rolled up to the hotel entrance in a jeep with Joseph N. and my guitar and uke.  I recognized him as someone good-natured and a little looney whom I’d seen on the streets of Hillsborough.

He greeted me enthusiastically,  “Where were you, man? I was trying to get your guitar to you.”

I got in the jeep and we drove to the police station to fill out the paperwork. 

“Stand up straight,” said the constable at the desk.  

“What’s your occupation?” Joseph launched into a litany of things he had done previously, trying to explain that he couldn’t work anymore.

Addressing us in somewhat of a formal manner, the constable said, “Mr. N. will spend the night with us.” And, referring to Saturday parang night with the off-island soca artists entertaining, the policeman counseled Joseph: “It’s a night of festivities so you don’t need to get into any more trouble!”

* Editors’ Note: Excerpt of author’s email to editors’ of (Sat, Dec 28, 2019, 2:48): “Bridget and I and our kids came back to Carriacou three years later [2016] on our boat Penguin…. When [we] first arrived in Grenada, we did a few Grenada things but it felt a little big and yacht-y and both Bridget and I knew that thirty miles north in Carriacou we would find a calmer scene and friends. Going from Grenada to Carriacou is a bit of an adventure because you must navigate around the zone of an underwater volcano called Kick ‘em Jenny. We showed up in Carriacou … and stayed for perhaps a week.  Long enough for Sherman–2016 Carriacou Calypso Monarch runner-up–to throw us a barbecue on the beach of Tyrell Bay.  His kids and some cousins were there to play with our kids….  Then we left, heading for Tobago… and then on to Trinidad for Carnival…. After Carnival, we came back to Carriacou (sailing through the night)….” 

Timeline

Monday [December 17, 2001]:  Arrive from Bequia aboard Alcyone no earlier than 2:00 pm. Meet Canute Caliste.  Get hipped to Sonnel in L’Esterre.

Tuesday: Alcyone moves to Tyrell Bay.  Find Sonnel.  Bring Sonnel and his daughter out to Alcyone.  Go in that night to meet Sonnel and get taken to a Carriacou wake.  

Wednesday:  Alcyone departs.  I find a guest house.  Talent Night at the Catholic Church.  Play with the Brunswick Strugglers?

Thursday:  Find out that a band in Belmont needs a guitarist.  Go to Belmont to meet Uncle Winston at 4:30.  Pass the audition and then I walk up towards Six Roads because rehearsal doesn’t start till 8:00. Rehearse from 8:00 till 10:30, get a ride with Roy and Godwin. Stop at Roy’s house and listen to reggae.  

Friday: Rehearse with BBH at Belmont. Take a bus to Windward and walk back.  Watch the Hosanna Competition that night.  

Saturday: Rehearse with BBH.  Go to Tailor Coy’s daughter’s wedding at the hotel on the beach in Hillsborough.  Guitar taken and then returned.  

Sunday: Rehearse with BBH.    Somebody lends me shoes for the competition since I have none.  Arrive Hillsborough early evening. Play music and serve drinks at Tailor Coy’s which is across the street from the tennis courts.  String Band Competition begins around 10:00. We probably meet around 9:00.  Finish by 3:00 am. 

Monday: 6:00 am, board the Osprey and go to Grenada to catch up with Alcyone.

1 thought on “V. A Night of Festivities! — Jeff McNish”

  1. THANKS FOR THIS! I spent a few days in Carriacou last summer and was stunned by its beauty.

    I enjoyed the pieces on Carriacou a lot (even looked up the fella — groovy work)! More most like these.

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