The colour­ful cos­tumes, the in­tox­i­cat­ing rhythms of so­ca mu­sic, the wild fever which grips mas play­ers dur­ing the Car­ni­val sea­son are all a prod­uct of T&T’s di­verse his­tor­i­cal ori­gins.

The rich his­to­ry of the Trinidad’s Car­ni­val dates back to the colo­nial era when it was in­tro­duced by the French set­tlers. Slav­ery was still wide­spread, and the slaves be­cause of their so­cial and racial sta­tus were banned from at­tend­ing the par­ties and balls of the slave mas­ters.

How­ev­er, the for­mer slaves start­ed to par­tic­i­pate in the fes­tiv­i­ties from 1833 af­ter the Eman­ci­pa­tion Bill was passed.

They brought can­boulay to the fes­tiv­i­ties. Can­boulay was first played on Au­gust 1, Eman­ci­pa­tion Day, but sub­se­quent­ly took place af­ter mid­night on Di­manche Gras, the Sun­day be­fore Car­ni­val, ac­cord­ing to the web­site of the Na­tion­al Car­ni­val Com­mis­sion (NCC).

The ear­ly cel­e­bra­tion of the fes­ti­val by the mass­es ac­tiv­i­ties was held over the three days pre­ced­ing Ash Wednes­day. How­ev­er, in the face of over 60 years of crit­i­cism from the up­per class about the low stan­dard of Car­ni­val and strong feel­ings ex­pressed about the des­e­cra­tion of the Sab­bath, in 1943 Car­ni­val on the street was re­strict­ed to the Mon­day and Tues­day.

This year al­so marks the 50th an­niver­sary of the Black Pow­er Rev­o­lu­tion and there is a per­cep­tion that 50 years af­ter this his­toric event which was sup­posed to have opened the doors for poor­er peo­ple and those of African de­scent, Car­ni­val has evolved in­to a fes­ti­val that is marked by class and oth­er so­cial di­vi­sions.

Al­though the Black Pow­er Rev­o­lu­tion be­gan in 1970, up­heavals had tak­en place be­fore in 1968–when a Car­ni­val band pro­duced by Pine­top­pers hit the streets of Port-of-Spain with a pre­sen­ta­tion named The Truth about Africa. Mas­quer­aders por­trayed "rev­o­lu­tion­ary he­roes," in­clud­ing Fi­del Cas­tro, Stoke­ly Carmichael (Kwame Ture), and Tubal Uri­ah But­ler.

Min­shall: Peo­ple don’t want to make mas any more, they want to make mon­ey!

Mas de­sign­er Pe­ter Min­shall, who re­turned to mas de­sign this year with the pre­sen­ta­tion, “Mas Pieta” for the band Ki­net­ic Mas Ltd, told the Sun­day Guardian that his theme in 2020 is about the con­tem­po­rary world and the re­al­i­ty that hu­man be­ings are at war with them­selves.

He spoke about the tug-of-war be­tween Russ­ian Pres­i­dent Putin and US Pres­i­dent Don­ald Trump, nu­clear weapons, glob­al warm­ing and oth­er ills that the world faces and the need for all of this to be re­flect­ed through the mas.

"The work that we are do­ing this year called ‘Mass Pieta’ and this band is a vi­su­al sym­pho­ny that presents the dilem­ma 21st cen­tu­ry. The love of pow­er ver­sus the pow­er of love. I’m an artist and my cho­sen medi­um is mas."

He agreed that di­vi­sions in con­tem­po­rary T&T are re­flect­ed in mas play­ing but stat­ed that this has al­ways been the case and that it's a re­al­i­ty that peo­ple have to ac­cept.

"There are dif­fer­ent so­cial di­vi­sions among hu­man be­ings since time im­memo­r­i­al. As they say, ‘birds of a feath­er flock to­geth­er’, and peo­ple tend to be trib­al. Al­though what has hap­pened to our is­land is that we are very vul­ner­a­ble. When grow­ing up T&T had so many se­crets to tell the world. I was born when pan and the fan­cy sailor was com­ing out of the ground."

He al­so blamed glob­al­i­sa­tion and the huge in­equal­i­ties that ex­ist world­wide for the so­cial di­vi­sions that T&T has evolved in­to, say­ing that a small de­vel­op­ing coun­try like T&T has no way of coun­ter­ing glob­al forces.

"Glob­al­ism and ra­bid cap­i­tal­ism have tak­en over. Car­ni­val is no less­er prey than any­body else. Peo­ple don’t want to make mas any more, they want to make mon­ey!" a very pas­sion­ate Min­shall ex­claimed.

Ab­du­lah: Black Pow­er craet­ed height­ened con­scious­ness among mas pay­ers

Po­lit­i­cal leader of the Move­ment for So­cial Jus­tice, labour leader David Ab­du­lah said so­cial di­vi­sions in the mod­ern Car­ni­val move­ment was not new.

Look­ing back at the 1800s he said there were al­ways two Car­ni­vals—the Mar­di Gras of the planter class and the can­boulay tra­di­tions of the for­mer slaves.

He said the Black Pow­er Rev­o­lu­tion 50 years ago did have some im­pact on Car­ni­val as there was a height­ened con­scious­ness among mas pay­ers and the cre­ative peo­ple in terms of por­tray­ing Africa in a more pos­i­tive light.

Ex­am­in­ing the evo­lu­tion of con­tem­po­rary Car­ni­val, he said that there has been a move­ment away from cre­ative peo­ple in­flu­enc­ing Car­ni­val to it be­ing looked as just an­oth­er busi­ness in­vest­ment by big busi­ness peo­ple. He said on­ly those with mon­ey can play in the biggest and best bands.

He said there needs to be aware­ness on the part of mas play­ers, the cre­ative peo­ple and oth­er par­tic­i­pants in Car­ni­val that it should be an in­clu­sive fes­ti­val for every­one.

'60s and ear­ly 70s the glo­ri­ous age of Car­ni­val'

Dr Gelien Matthews, lec­tur­er, Caribbean and Amer­i­can His­to­ry, Uni­ver­si­ty of the West In­dies (UWI), who spoke to the Sun­day Guardian last Wednes­day, said the ear­li­est in­car­na­tion of Car­ni­val can be traced back to the French planter class when they cel­e­brat­ed it through their par­ties and balls in a very con­ser­v­a­tive and elit­ist way.

The black and coloured mass­es were not in­vit­ed to these pre-lenten fes­ti­vals and their par­tic­i­pa­tion was lim­it­ed to dress­ing up in the old clothes of the slave mas­ters and danc­ing in the yards of the Great House. It was on­ly af­ter the Eman­ci­pa­tion and Ap­pren­tice­ship pe­ri­od that the Black mass­es were al­lowed to ex­press them­selves and con­tribute to the evo­lu­tion of Car­ni­val, she point­ed out.

"They brought in the can­boulay which was man­i­fest­ed through the street pro­ces­sions, the car­ry­ing of the flam­beau, the stick fight­ing and the tam­boo bam­boo as a means to make mu­sic and cel­e­brate their eman­ci­pa­tion."

Matthews said that dur­ing this era the White up­per class­es thought that the Black and Coloured mass­es were "spoil­ing" what was pre­vi­ous­ly a con­ser­v­a­tive, elit­ist cel­e­bra­tion.

Dur­ing the 1860s there were news­pa­per ar­ti­cles speak­ing about "Jamet class" be­ing the poor, un­e­d­u­cat­ed peo­ple and their grow­ing in­flu­ence on Car­ni­val cel­e­bra­tions.

By the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry there was a marked dif­fer­ence be­tween the way the elite cel­e­brat­ed Car­ni­val and the way the or­di­nary peo­ple cel­e­brat­ed it.

"The wealth­i­er peo­ple cel­e­brat­ed by go­ing on top the back of lor­ries, where­as the street fes­ti­vals were cel­e­brat­ed by the Blacks," she said.

She does not see a di­rect link be­tween the Black Pow­er Rev­o­lu­tion of 1970 and the Car­ni­val move­ment.

How­ev­er, she de­scribed the 1960s and ear­ly 1970s as the "glo­ri­ous age" of Car­ni­val be­cause of the type of cos­tumes that were cre­at­ed in this era which led to a sort of equal­i­ty where peo­ple from dif­fer­ent so­cial class­es played to­geth­er.

"We had the great mas­quer­ade de­sign­ers like George Bai­ley who con­tributed sig­nif­i­cant­ly to re­duc­ing the racial and class lines that were ev­i­dent in the 20th Cen­tu­ry. He stud­ied the his­to­ry of Africa and he turned that study in­to the cos­tumes like African kings and queens and oth­er types of an­i­mals. This was al­so the be­gin­ning of large Car­ni­val bands. Peo­ple who were poor, mid­dle class and rich played in his band."

The ear­ly 21st cen­tu­ry has been char­ac­terised by beads, biki­nis and feath­ers mas which she calls "gener­ic" with no sort of cre­ativ­i­ty or dis­tinc­tion in the artistry.

"Un­for­tu­nate­ly, young peo­ple love it and they pay for it. They don’t care for too much cov­er­ing which was the hall­mark of peo­ple like George Bai­ley. The young peo­ple feel it’s not sexy enough."

She not­ed that the high cost of play­ing mas these days is not a pro­hib­i­tive fac­tor nor does it lead to so­cial stra­ta among mas play­ers.

"Peo­ple are will­ing to take loans. At UWI, we used to have cam­pus mas and em­ploy­ees were en­cour­aged to have mon­ey de­duct­ed from their salaries to pay for Car­ni­val cos­tumes.

"That al­so hap­pens in the wider so­ci­ety where peo­ple have sou sous, take loans and oth­er meth­ods to fi­nance their mas play­ing. Peo­ple find ways to play in bands.

"To­day in com­par­i­son to the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry where rich, white and wealthy were play­ing on lor­ries and the poor played on the streets, I don’t think that we have that kind of di­vi­sion. I don’t see a big so­cio-eco­nom­ic di­vi­sion."

'A so­ci­ety ac­com­mo­dat­ing our dif­fer­ences'

His­to­ri­an Ger­ard Besson said Car­ni­val al­ways rep­re­sent­ed the dif­fer­ent so­cial and racial groups in so­ci­ety and it evolved with a con­tri­bu­tion from each part of T&T’s melt­ing pot.

He said T&T’s Car­ni­val had its ori­gins as a Ro­man Catholic pre-lenten fes­ti­val among the White French planter class and al­so the free coloured and mixed-race pop­u­la­tion. When the British came in 1797, they were un­able to stop the nascent Car­ni­val move­ments as the fes­ti­val had al­ready tak­en root among the French speak­ing elites and the coloured mass­es.

What re­al­ly ce­ment­ed Car­ni­val in Trinidad was its evo­lu­tion as a "re­sis­tance move­ment" to the British colo­nial rule, Besson said.

"The idea of Car­ni­val be­ing a re­sis­tance move­ment and ca­lyp­so be­ing re­sis­tance mu­sic had its ori­gins in the re­sent­ment of these poor Black peo­ple and the French peo­ple against the British rule.
"The ca­lyp­soes of the pe­ri­od, they make fun of the per­son­al­i­ties of the rul­ing es­tab­lish­ment.

"By the 1880s, it be­came a street the­atre that had to do with protest­ing against British rule."

By the post War War 1 pe­ri­od, Car­ni­val had be­come more than a fes­ti­val as­so­ci­at­ed with the Jamet Class and more mid­dle class coloured peo­ple start­ed to make their in­put in­to the fes­ti­val. They formed Ar­gos Car­ni­val, which was a Down­town Car­ni­val com­pe­ti­tion where peo­ple dressed up in beau­ti­ful cos­tumes.

"This is where the first sailor bands start to ap­pear with peo­ple with pow­dered faces. This is where Car­ni­val start­ed to be a lit­tle bit recog­nised as to what we know to­day."

Around the 1930s the white up­per class­es and coloured mid­dle class­es had be­gun to have cars, and Besson said this led to the be­gin­nings of the "truck Car­ni­val" where peo­ple would play Car­ni­val on trucks. This al­so gave the wealthy class­es the op­por­tu­ni­ty to keep its dis­tance from the "Jamet Class" dur­ing the Car­ni­val fes­tiv­i­ties.

By the 1930s, the Car­ni­val had evolved from the very rough, low­er-class "Can­boulay Car­ni­val" to a "mas­quer­ad­er Car­ni­val," Besson added.

"The pret­ty brown-skinned girl from Wood­brook who want­ed to take part in Car­ni­val, her moth­er would have told her to get a mask to go out in the streets. So peo­ple like her would keep to them­selves and not mix while on the streets," he said.

The evo­lu­tion of Trinidad’s Car­ni­val took an­oth­er turn af­ter World War 11, when Car­ni­val be­gan to be in­flu­enced by Amer­i­can Hol­ly­wood movies like the Cow­boy and In­di­an movies, the Ten Com­mand­ments and Ben Hur.

Sim­i­lar to UWI lec­tur­er Matthews, he does not think that the Black Pow­er Rev­o­lu­tion as a po­lit­i­cal event had any in­flu­ence on T&T’s Car­ni­val. What was sig­nif­i­cant around this era, the 1960s and 1970s, was that many T&T na­tion­als mi­grat­ed and took with them el­e­ments of Car­ni­val that van­ished with them.

"Be­tween 1960 and 1970, 111,000 left Trinidad. This is why Car­ni­val sud­den­ly ap­peared in Brook­lyn in New York. Then be­tween 1970 and 1980 an­oth­er 75, 000 left T&T. We saw the dis­ap­pear­ance of the peo­ple who played the Black In­di­an, we saw the dis­ap­pear­ance of those who played the mid­night rob­ber. The Dev­il bands that came out of Dun­can Street, those types of char­ac­ter­i­sa­tion of Car­ni­val be­gan to dis­ap­pear."

The ef­fect of this mass mi­gra­tion and the dis­ap­pear­ance of some as­pects of tra­di­tion­al Car­ni­val made way for the Car­ni­val that ex­ists to­day—the "pret­ty bands," he said. Besson asked where is the mod­ern George Bai­ley to cre­ate beau­ti­ful and in­tri­cate mas.

He said Car­ni­val has evolved in a "splen­did way" in­to the 21st cen­tu­ry. Car­ni­vals in Brazil and New Or­leans in the Unit­ed States are still stuck in a time warp, un­like in T&T where Car­ni­val kept chang­ing and evolv­ing.

"Car­ni­val to­day re­flects ex­act­ly what’s hap­pen­ing in this so­ci­ety. It’s a so­ci­ety ded­i­cat­ed to gai­ety. It’s a so­ci­ety that’s ac­com­mo­dat­ing to our dif­fer­ences. It is where the pres­sure is let off and peo­ple try to have fun.

"If some­one re­al­ly wants to play mas, they save mon­ey to do it. Peo­ple play with oth­er peo­ple who they trust so it ap­pears to be so­cial­ly and racial­ly strat­i­fied.

"That is why you see some bands on­ly with Black peo­ple, oth­ers on­ly with White peo­ple and what­ev­er else."

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