I'm not a bikini and beads kind of girl. In the few times, I've played mas, it's been with Minshall's Sacred Heart and Ashraph Ramsaran's Snake in the Grass in town and, of course, the Jagessar family's Fancy Indian mas in San Fernando.
One year, we even had our own mas band. We, being just three of us friends.
Conceptualised on Carnival Friday, we called our three-woman band Rage of the Goddesses. There was a water goddess, an earth goddess and a wind goddess, and we were vex. The water goddess, me, was vex too bad about the water wasted at too many wet fetes. The earth goddess was damn vex about how Carlos John paved the savannah. The wind goddess was rightly vex about all the pollution.
On Carnival Saturday, we hit Queen Street cloth stores and Samaroo's in town, and changed our telephone message to say that the caller had reached the Rage of the Goddesses Mas Camp and we were sorry that we missed their call. You could tell we were young, idle and had ketch a Carnival jumbie.
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