Culture Matters

TT Culture, Inside Out

DARA E HEALY

SOMETIMES, the mas is still.

Like just before 4 am as people gather in the jumbie hour, waiting for that subtle change in the morning air; the signal that it is time to move off. Sometimes, even the panyard is still, between rehearsal sets, when players satisfy their thirst and talk quietly in groups scattered about the yard. They talk and wait for the sound of the pan stick on the side of the tenor pan telling them, 'Break over, time to rehearse.'

Increasingly, we need more moments of stillness. Amidst the snarling faces in the media, images of war, abuse, corruption and loss - as our levels of anxiety increase, is it possible to discover healing in the ancestral elements of our mas?

In the face of death, many cultures seek solace from those who have transitioned from this realm. Their rituals reflect the understanding that '…the relationship with the deceased may be transformed by the ritual actions of mourners, into an ancestor.' In some traditions, this process of transformation must take place within the context of a festival, or according to the rites of passage in Carnival.

In Yoruba, the word for masquerade is

egungun. The

egungun are portrayed by fully masked men (or in some cases women) 'who represent the spirits of the living dead ancestors.' Over the years, in TT the word egungun became synonymous with ancestor. Prof Jeff Henry and other researchers document that the

egungun were most likely prominent members of ancient African secret societies that survived the Middle Passage.

As with most aspects of African culture, the ancestral masquerade survived through subterfuge, hiding in plain sight, by incorporating very subtle markings and objects in their clothing during the Carnival celebrations. During the early Carnivals, they would be fully masked, dressed in several layers of fabric. Each layer, especially the one closest to the skin, held a special spiritual significance.

After 1838, the former enslaved celebrated on the streets on August 1, the day that the Emancipation Proclamation was read. However, state oppression through legislation and police force limited their masquerade and forced many of the ritualistic aspects further underground. The 'people's Canboulay Festival was abolished in 1884 and replaced with a restricted festival which took place at dawn on the Monday preceding Ash Wednesday.'

As the middle classes reappeared on the streets, traditional masquerades were seen less in public. Indeed, it is said that in modern times, fear of the

egungun often led to the masquerader being run from the streets by onlookers and law enforcement. A few years ago, playwright Eintou Springer drew on her intimate understanding of the Ifa/Orisha belief system to re-establish the connection between African ancestors and Carnival.

During the performance of Kambule, the stickfighters and jamettes honour the ancestral energies in song, calling on them before going into battle against the colonial government which was a