Fling yuh hair, bend over, rise from shadows

Carnival Origins

Dara E Healy

Hear the cries in the streets at night

So many dreams gone out like light

…But the rhythm of hope is strong

Feel the beat

It guides us along

Plant the seed of change in the ground

And reap the fruits of love from this song

I’m sure we can rise from the shadows as we shine

Through the pain and the sorrows

Leave the darkness behind

– Yung Bredda, We Rise

WELL it is done. The portal to our Carnival has been opened. The Canboulay revellers re-entered our memory through the Eintou Springer play Kambule, making their intention clear. “The streets belong to us again, if only for two days.”

Every year, the Carnival shows us who we are, where we are in our development and what areas we need to work on. This year there were several such moments, like when Machel Montano took to the streets to sell doubles in defence of our local delicacy, or when the internet took the side of a young woman flinging her hair in a fete, to the extreme annoyance of an older woman standing next to her.

But there were deeper, more meaningful moments too. Many of them propelled by the youth of our nation.

In the period after enslavement, calypsonians sang about themes centred around survival and living conditions. As the barrack yards in urban areas became more populated, overcrowding, sanitation and decline in family values were some of the topics that preoccupied the singers and society in general.

In the early 1900s there was also vibrant discussion about regulating and controlling Carnival. The Jamette Carnival of the 1860s-1890s had been particularly stressful for the upper classes, who were offended (and probably afraid) of the expressions of the Africans on the streets.

As such, another topic of conversation emerged about where to hold Carnival activities. M’zumbo Lazare, an attorney famous for advocating on behalf of activists in the 1903 Water Riots, suggested the Savannah as an alternative to downtown Port of Spain.

At the time, the presence of animals grazing in the Savannah sparked considerable amusement among those in society who opposed his suggestion. Gordon Rohlehr mentions one calypso that reflected this view. “If you go to the Savannah you will mash cow dung/So keep the Carnival down-town/…Razor grass does cut Creole foot/So keep it down-town.”

From racism to corruption, crime and censorship, the calypso, masquerade and various cultural forms focused on marking a space in the social and political landscape.

In 2025, we are witnessing the formation of a new type of gayelle, one occupied and driven by the voices and talents of young people. At the Grammys this month, Beyonce said, “I think sometimes ‘genre’ is a code word to keep us in our place as artists, and I just want to encourage people to do what they’re passionate about.”

In TT genres are shifting and moving into different directions. Artists like Muhammad Muwakil and others from different musical styles continue to influence traditional cultural forms, while also challenging that notion of staying in your creative place.

Soca is slowing down again, becoming more reflective, emphasising love, caring and critical social topics. Calypso continues to attract younger and younger performers who sing with confidence on subjects such as Caribbean unity and the survival of calypso.

Eight-year-old Xhaiden Darius was a marvel as he sang slowly and purposefully with the maturity of someone far beyond his years, “At my age between me and you/…Ah want all ah dem to know/I would never stop singing calypso/…As easy as 12345/I pledge to keep calypso alive.”

And as for pan, well this is definitely the era of the young pannist.

In a way, the music is heading back to the barrack yards, to the stickfight grounds. Increasingly, artists are understanding that is it essential to address the imbalances in our society from a place that is creatively authentic. As global alliances and realities shift, our culture will endure as the space that supports and strengthens us.

To complete this new movement, we need to return our festival to its emancipatory roots, to reclaim that ancestral, spiritual space. But immediately, let us recognise that all of this creativity is work – loving, committed, unconditional work. We understand now that Carnival is not just a party, so allow us to rest on Ash Wednesday. When we rest, we rise.

Dara E Healy is a performing artist and founder of the Idakeda Group, a cultural organisation dedicated to empowering communities through the arts

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