Today, the streets of St James and Cedros come alive with the sounds of tassa drums and the procession of tadjahs. The annual celebrations of Hosay commemorate the martyrdom of Hussein and Hassan, the grandsons of the Prophet Muhammad, during the Battle of Karbala.
Hosay is one of the oldest traditions brought to Trinidad, by Indian indentured labourers in the 19th century.
During the indentureship period it was one of the largest cultural celebrations and became the labourers’ strongest expression of community spirit and cultural identity. It created a sense of belonging at a time when many people were living under systems designed to control them.
During the indentureship period, the colonial government did not really sanction or support the cultural traditions of the Indian labourers. At the same time, these traditions were not always openly stopped. In many cases, culture was tolerated because planters believed it helped to keep the labourers content, productive on the cane fields and easier to control. Simply put, cultural practices were allowed to continue in different parts of the colony, but only as long as they did not challenge the authority of the colonial state.
Hosay became a problem for the colonial authorities because it brought large numbers of people together in public. It was not only Muslim labourers who participated. Hindu labourers also took part, and they were joined by some Afro-Muslims as well.
This gathering of different communities around one celebration was what made Hosay so powerful and threatening to the colonial state. The authorities were not really concerned about religion. They were concerned about order, movement and control.
Once people from different backgrounds came together in large numbers, moved through the streets and asserted their right to practise their culture, Hosay was no longer seen as harmless. You see, culture was acceptable when it remained quiet and contained but became dangerous when it united people and showed that ordinary people could organise themselves.
The Canboulay Riots of 1881 had already shown the colonial authorities the power of culture to bring people together in the streets, and this fear of large public gatherings later influenced the restrictions placed on Hosay.
Following the Canboulay Riots, Indian indentured immigrants were told they needed to get passes to leave the estates and permission to enter the towns of San Fernando or Port-of-Spain during the annual Hosay celebrations. They were not allowed to carry sticks or other items considered offensive weapons, and torches or fire sticks were not allowed on public roads. The colonial government claimed these regulations were meant to maintain peace and order, but in reality, they controlled where people could gather, how they could move and how much space their culture was allowed to occupy.
On October 31, 1884, when the labourers attempted to make their way into San Fernando during the Hosay procession, the colonial police opened fire. Twenty-one Indian labourers were killed.
The administrator of the colony later argued that the government did not intend to interfere with the religious rites connected with Hosay, but that the regulations were meant to ensure order throughout the colony. He also stated that immigrants could not claim, on the ground of religion, the right to enter Port-of-Spain or San Fernando, or move along the public roads, without the permission of the District Magistrate.
That moment is often remembered as the Hosay Riots. Some writers choose to describe it as a massacre, and I understand why, because colonial police opened fire and people were killed. But I also think it is important that we do not remember those labourers only as victims. I see it as a riot because the labourers gave themselves agency. They were not meek, docile people waiting quietly for the colonial rulers to decide what they could or could not do. They stood up. They fought back. They defied the colonial authorities because they believed they had a right to practise their culture. They challenged the restrictions placed upon them and defended what was important to their community. In doing so, they left us with a powerful example of resistance, courage and cultural survival.
That resistance is part of why Hosay still matters today. The same tradition that colonial authorities tried to restrict has survived and continued to bring people together on the streets of St James and Cedros to witness a tradition that has moved through generations. There are also real community benefits. Hosay supports tassa groups, tadjah builders, decorators, vendors, small businesses and others who contribute to the cultural economy.
But perhaps the greatest value of Hosay is what it teaches us about ourselves as a nation. T&T was built by many peoples, struggles and traditions and Hosay is part of that national story.
So today, as Hosay is celebrated, we should the determination of people who refused to allow colonial power to silence them.
Hosay reminds us that our culture has survived because it was protected, defended and carried forward by ordinary people who understood its value. And because of them, more than a century later, the tadjahs still rise.
