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Lunch in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, from The Cooking of the Caribbean Islands, 1970

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From the National Archives of Trinidad and Tobago:

“Happy San Fernando City Day! In honour of this, we're sharing these photos of Harris Promenade in 1956, showing crowds gathered for a meeting at the famous bandstand, opposite the Town Hall; as well as a photo showing the famous San Fernando Hill.

San Fernando City Day is held annually on November 18th to commemorate the date that San Fernando was elevated to the status of a City in 1988.

The area we now know as San Fernando has appeared in written records from as early as 1595.

However, "San Fernando" was not officially included in its name until 1792, when it was named "San Fernando de Naparima."

"San Fernando" was chosen by the Spanish Governor Chacon in honour of Fernando-the son of the King of Spain, Carlos Ill. It is the only area in Trinidad and Tobago that was named with the approval of the Spanish Crown.

"De Naparima," is derived from "Anaparima" or "Naparima,"—a name given to the area by the First Peoples that is believed to mean "a single hill", reminiscent of the San Fernando Hill perhaps.

However, some records suggest that "Anap-Arima," means "the place lacking water," and is related to the word "Arima," meaning "the land of abundant water."

Before its expansion, San Fernando was also once called "Petit Bourg" meaning "small village" by the French.

San Fernando became a town in 1845, under the First Municipal Ordinance which established a San Fernando Town Council. It was elevated to a Borough on August 19th 1853 by Ordinance No.10 of 1853, under which Port of Spain also became a Borough.

This photo of Harris Promenade is courtesy of "San Fernando, 1956-1986: A Pictorial Review" (1987) by Garnet Ifill.

The photo of the San Fernando Hill is from the book, "Insight Guide to Trinidad and Tobago" published by Insight Guides, London. Both books are part of the National Archives of Trinidad and Tobago Reference Collection.

References:

Ottley, Carlton Robert. The Story of San Fernando. International Printers, 1971.

"Historical Tidbits of San Fernando." Trinidad Guardian, 19 Nov, 2005. Information courtesy the San Fernando City Corporation.”

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From The Cutlass Magazine:

“Caribbean Hindustani Interview: Mahadeya Kowlessar

Contrary to popular belief, the language of Bhojpuri or Hindustani is not dead in the Indo-Caribbean community. The Bhojpuri of chutney and Hindi/Urdu of Bollywood echoes throughout our daily lives. Words and phrases have been adopted into the island vernaculars. While the languages may have decayed in spoken form for the masses in Trinidad, Guyana, and Jamaica, among other indenture sites, are they beyond rebirth and preservation?

In this interview, Dr. Visham Bhimull speaks to Mahadeya Kowlessar from South Trinidad. With her white "orhni" (veil) and command of native tongue, she is an embodiment of a time long ago. This dialogue reveals much about our roots and Indo-Caribbean identities. You may be able to isolate words such as "nana-nani" (maternal grandfather-grandmother) or "aja-aji" (paternal grandfather-grandmother), perhaps phrases like "na jane" (I do not know). She exemplifies how our ancestors would have referred to a pre-partitioned India as "muluk" (country) rather than the "Bharat" or "Hindustan" known to South Asians. Bhimull, an Indo-Trinidadian linguist, is spearheading the movement to document these ancestral dialects through his organization Caribbean Hindustani. In doing so, he is continuing in the line of pioneers like Peggy Mohan, working against the inevitable passing of time to protect the endangered Bhojpuri from extinction in the West Indies.”

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Macqueripe Beach, Trinidad, by Alan Charles (Trini Surfer).

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Port of Spain at night, by Emile Rahaman.

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Oyster man at Queen’s Park Savannah, by Joel John.

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San Fernando, Trinidad, by Tropic_Lens.

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After just using the well-known Caribbean phrase "massa day done" as a tag in reference to the sun finally setting on the British Empire, I thought I'd revisit Dr. Eric Williams' famous 1961 speech decrying the appointment of a rich white man to political office as a "feather in the cap" of the party, the speech where the term was solidified in our culture as shorthand for self-determination and independence. And I couldn't stop laughing because it was exactly the way that a certain class of educated West Indian STILL talks to this very day when irritated:

This pack of benighted idiots, this band of obscurantist politicians, this unholy alliance of egregious individualists, who have nothing constructive to say, who babble week after week the same criticisms that we have lived through for five long years, who, nincompoops that they are, think that they can pick up any old book the day before a debate in the Legislative Council and can pull a fast one in the Council by leaving out the sentence or the paragraph or the pages which contradict their ignorant declamations for people like these power is all that matters.

I love this aspect of Caribbean language-ways and how we adhere to that particular era of English that came over on the boats. It's like how the specific form of Bhojpuri spoken by East Indian indentured labourers didn't develop in an Indian context but alongside/blended with other language groups in Trinidad & Tobago, and why our words for things don't scan with Hindi-speakers from the sourceland.

When I moved back to Canada from Trinidad and spoke with other Indian people, sourceland Indians, they never knew "what I was" or what I was saying when I used Trini Hindi. It was a source of embarrassment then, constantly having to explain that we from the diaspora are still Indian and also distinctly individual, but now I love it. My sister nearly physically fought some dude in a kebab shop in England over her identifying as Trini-Canadian rather than South Asian because he said she wasn't "proud of who she was".

We have to tick "South Asian" on forms because there's no space for us and any reference to Caribbean is Afro-Caribbean, but that's not really what I identify as. I'm the granddaughter of those sugar cane plantation workers who were told (in 1926!) "the less education your children have, the better". I'm the daughter of a man who grew up in the plantation barracks where the sugar employers thought it "unnecessary to provide adequate sanitary facilities for their employees, because the workers would not use them".

Massa day done. It's a powerful phrase when you're constantly decolonizing your own identity in the face of a world that isn't aware of what you are.

Massa Day Done, Sahib Day Done, Yes Suh Boss Day Done. - dr. eric williams

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Gasparee Caves, Gaspar Grande, Trinidad.

Photos by Tevin Mills Photography, Micheala Arjoon, and Wendell SJ Reyes.

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In honour of parang season, here’s Paul Hernandez and Clarita Rivas singing Rio Manzanares.

Video by Maria Nunes

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Paramin, by Rahim Ali

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Paria Falls, Trinidad, by Marcus Gomez

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Tobago’s Mystery Tombstone

Photo by Captain Martini on Flickr.

From a Trinidad Guardian article by Elspeth Duncan:

“Walking up the incline from Plymouth jetty to return to my car, I notice the sign for the Mystery Tombstone. I have heard and read about this tourist attraction, but have never seen it. Now is my opportunity. The simple grave is painted black with white words etched onto its surface. The best known portion of the text, featured in most tourism literature, reads: "She was a mother without knowing it and a wife without letting her husband know it except by her kind indulgences to him."

I ponder: Did Betty Stiven die during childbirth and never have the opportunity to know motherhood? And her husband…how could he not have known? Interested in hearing other perspectives, I ask a few random people.

My first conversation is with a woman from Carnbee who suggests that Betty Stiven was pregnant, but died before giving birth…and that she was married, but had an "outside man" whom she treated like a "husband" but never told about her legal husband…Or maybe she got a man drunk and married him without his sober knowledge.

A shop owner in Crown Point says of the inscription: "I felt it was totally confusing and I wondered if it was for real!"An elderly fruit vendor tells me that he has heard about it but has never been to see the grave."But if I read out the inscription to you, will you tell me what it suggests to you?" I ask.

"No, because seeing is believing," he says. "I would have to actually see that grave to know what I feel about it."Later, while buying supplies in a small Bon Accord grocery, I ask the cashier if she has heard about the Mystery Tombstone. She looks at me with wide eyes, slowly shakes her head and states that she "'fraid dem thing."

"It's nothing to be scared of," I say.

"It's a tourist site–a grave with this inscription written on it."

As I start to read the words, recognition sparks on her face. She has heard this apparent riddle before, but never quite understood it. “Maybe the slave master did rape she and she mind she son without knowing it was she own," she offers. A man standing nearby pipes up: "You want to know the story? You want to know the real story?"

Convinced by his confidence, the cashier and I are all ears. I begin to scribble down the words as his version of the story unfolds…

"In those days on the slave plantation there was something called 'the Bull Pen' with big black men. When young slave girls did first see their blood, they would be sent up to the Bull Pen, but they would have to pass the Master's house first. They would blindfold her so she wouldn't be able to see who do what.

"The Master would do he business, then they would send she in the Bull Pen. They used to breed them like pig to produce more slaves for work."When the child born, it was red. They send away the child to Scotland, but when it grow and come back, it saw this same slave woman, fell in love with her and married her, not knowing she was the mother."

One can also go online and read a variety of theories about the grave, but the answers from people on the street, are very creative and could give even the most popular soap opera a run for its money.”

What do you guys think?

References:

Duncan, E. (2015). “A Multifaceted Mystery,” The Trinidad Guardian, 23rd August. Retrieved from: https://www.guardian.co.tt/article-6.2.368428.f36e89ec06 (on 7th November 2024).

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Traditions of the Trinbagonian Wake

Both text and illustrations taken from Folklore and Legends of Trinidad and Tobago, by Gerard A. Besson. Art by Alfred Codallo, Avril Turner, Peter Shim, Stuart Hahn, and Sue Ann Gomes:

“The wake for a deceased member of the village is a noisy affair and almost not at all sad! Several of the activities of a wake are depicted in the picture above: the "raconteur", who is regaling the children with his stories; the limbo dancers who need strong thigh and back muscles to succeed; and, inside the house, the neighbours, family members and friends who came to sing hymns and mourn the deceased. Below are the bongo dancers, challenging each other with their complicated choreographies.

Card playing is going on, and kind women have baked cookies, biscuits and other goodies and pass them around with coffee. A wake usually takes place at night, when flambeaux light the yard, making the shadows of the villagers dance upon the bark of the trees.”

Limbo

“Is an athletic ‘dance game’ played at wakes. Its origin is lost in time, but West African visitors seem to recognise a slight resemblance to one of their children's games. In any case, this dance is wholly Trinidadian. Like calypso, it is popular throughout the West Indies.

Limbo is the reverse of the high jump. A stick is held by two men at about three feet high and dancers pass under without touching the bar, to the singing of the chantwell, accompanied by the beating of the qua qua (dried bamboo slits). No part of the body except the sole of the feet should touch the ground. As the stick is lowered after each round, the dancers keep falling back to the ground, leaving only the most supple man or woman to claim championship honours.”

Bongo

“A folk-dance, this complicated, athletic pastime is usually performed at wakes. It relies on the principle that one dancer has to repeat the movement of the other, plus add one of his own. As the bongo goes on, the movements become more and more intricate, as one dance-step, twist or turn is added on top of the other. The winner is the dancer who can repeat the other's movements to perfection and with beauty, and the loser is the one who fails in remembering the string of movements.

The bongo is usually accompanied by handclapping and "qua-qua" - that is, two pieces of bamboo rhythmically beaten together.”

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A post shared by The National Archives of T&T (@nationalarchivestt)

From @nationalarchivestt:

“#DidYouKnow This month is African History Month in Trinidad and Tobago? Since 1976, November has been dedicated to the celebration of the people of African descent who have shaped our nation.

It is fitting that African History Month follows Calypso History Month because calypso is in itself, rooted in our African heritage.

While research on the roots of calypso is ongoing, many sources point to Kalinda/Calinda (stickfighting) bands during the era of slavery as the origin of the genre in T&T.

The well-known calypsonian & anthropologist Hollis "Chalkdust" Liverpool has written about the function of the chantwell/chantuelle in Kalinda, describing them as persons who sang songs to inspire stickfighters into action. They also provided melodies for carnival masqueraders during Canboulay.

These songs, called cariso songs, were usually about protest against the ruling upper class. The power of the chantwell & their songs is reflected in the names that were chosen by them.

Tobagonian anthropologist & folklorist J. D. Elder wrote that "chantuelles identified themselves with the heroes of war and named themselves The Iron Duke, Pharoah, the Duke of Marlborough, Black Prince, etc." This culture of naming among chantwells, and later, calypsonians, continued into the 20th century.

Known as a sobriquet, these names were calypsonians' stage names. From the early 1900s, we see the continuation of sobriquets inspired by war and conflict like "Atilla the Hun," "Black Stalin," "Sir Lancelot," "Dictator," "Lord Invader," and "The Mighty Bomber."

Some calypsonians adopted ironic and witty sobriquets like "The Mighty Sparrow," "Tiny Terror," and "Bitterbush." Others chose to retain part of their birth names in their sobriquets, like "Lady Baldwin," "Singing Sandra," "Singing Francine," "Lord Nelson," "Singing Sonia," and "Marvellous Marva."

This photo shows some of "The Great Calypsonians" from "120 Years of Calypsoes to Remember" by the Mighty Sparrow, c. 1963, which is part of the National Archives of Trinidad and Tobago Calypso Booklet Collection. At the time, the calypso music industry was still male-dominated, as is reflected in this photo.”

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“Full flower moon captured at Queen’s Park Savannah,” by Rahim Ali.

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As a Trini who’s mixed with literally every ethnic group on the island (aside from Syrian and Lebanese) but who looks East Indian, this!!! When I was studying in the UK I had to explain to people soooo many times how I could look Indian but be from the Caribbean. I remember this one time I was talking to a Punjabi guy at a Diwali function, and he was adamant that I “didn’t look Trinidadian.” The conversation went as follows:

Him: Are you Indian?

Me: No, I’m Trinidadian! But I’m part Indian because we’re a very diverse country and we have a lot of South Asians there.

Him: But you do not look Trinidadian.

Me: Yeah, well, it’s a long story but- the British brought Indians to Trinidad when India was still ruled by Britain, to replace the former enslaved Africans. That’s why.

Him: You don’t look Trinidadian.

Me: Again, we’re a very diverse country because of our history!

Him: You don’t look Trinidadian.

I’m serious, he literally just repeated “You don’t look Trinidadian” with a confused look until we parted ways. Wild.

And then there’s the times when I had my own “Caribbeanness” contested by Brits who claim West Indian heritage because their grandfather was born there but left to move to the UK when he was three. Have they ever gone to the Caribbean? Once when they were a baby. Do they still have family + a family home there? No, most times not. Why am I not a real Caribbean person compared to them? Because I’m Indian and not Black hurrr durrrr!!!

Look, I love it when Caribbean descendants around the world are proud of their culture, but gosh man, actually research your own heritage before jumping to such dotish conclusions!

And then yeah, as bossymarmalade said, Indo-Caribbean just isn’t a recognized ethnic category outside of the Caribbean- this includes the UK. Not just in terms of census info, but culturally as well. I’ve been in contact with Indo-Caribbean Windrush descendants to highlight their stories and good lord, the amount of resistance and sheer anger (from other people) I get when the idea of highlighting Indo-Caribbean identity and culture is brought up.

People like shoving “the other” into neat little categories and get annoyed when human identity and heritage is much more complex than tick boxes.

Long story short, but this is why I made this blog- a love letter to the homeland that birthed me in all my cultural complexity. I want fellow Trinis to feel proud of how far we’ve come as a rainbow people, regardless of whether you’re African, Indian, Indigenous, Chinese, etc.

the european quest for indian riches changed the world so irrevocably, and it leaves these terrible echoes, for those that live in the caribbean now are deemed west and east indians and the native americans deemed indians too and when india is finally opened up inevitably the forms of immiseration evolve. but the plunder continues.