The opening ceremony of the Summit of the Americas prompted much criticisms from various people, but none offered any solutions to the much-touted debacle. The obvious flaws of this mammoth extravaganza went unmentioned. That cost—eight or was it $13, or $17 million?—while the arts starve.

Some agreed this concert was a colossal waste of public funds. For the Hindu community as one writer commented, the “Indo-Trinidadian was insulted.” Only “two minutes out of 49” were devoted to the Indians. “A hard slap in the face,” the writer said. The Parang association, the Carib community and the Steelband association lamented and cried out against this musical fiasco, a misrepresentation of our cultural heritage, as they said. But the Chinese community (less than one per cent of the population) never asked, “Where was the Chinese Dragon?”

A deluge of shining, expensive, superfluous costuming, choking, overcrowded the stage, overwhelmed the foreigners by its thunderous bombardment to mesmerise the foreign audience who had never anticipated that it could be smothered by such extravagant precocity, and non-stop catatonic excitement. For us, it was a rehash of recurring melodies, borrowed glories. But where was the architectonic structure, the strategic scheme of the whole presentation?

It was in-house street theatre, a bacchanalian display of grotty and enigmatic exuberance, extolling controlled whining and wining.
Where were the cadenzas of a honey-toned, happy-tuned narrator? Instead, it was deja vu snippets of sophisticated revelry, “polished” jump-up and a jetsam of over played imagery. Where was the sense of drama, the sense of mystery? Luckily we had no foppish rag-waving, no repeated appeal to “raise your hand in the air.” Gross “chupidness.” Where was the binding thread of the concert, the cohesive bond that would keep the whole presentation in focus? Why a cast of eight hundred? Always less is more. To give it a poignant, meaningful and charismatic flavour. So that players could have more room to participate, to dance. To show off our multiculturalism and virtuosity.

Not a hocus-pocus imbroglio of hobnobbing squandermania. One possible way to create a successful concert of this magnitude and importance is to present an authentic stage play connected with our ancestral cultural background. A story line dispensation of our cultural history beginning with the Tainos, the Caribs with their primitive customs and artefacts, leading to the immigrants, the Spaniards, the Negroes, the Indians.

Inspire beauty

The Chinese who landed here in 1806 long before the others, and touching upon all the religions, cultural events, celebrations leading up to the steelband, to the lion dance—Carnival—to tamboo bamboo, to tassa drumming, Ramleela, a Hindu wedding, Tobago, goat and crab races with a sense of novelty and folk humour, the Orisha Shouter Baptist ceremonies, etc, culminating in our celebration of Carnival presenting our stupendous kings and queens of the bands, to bring a marvellous climax to the summit presentation through our diverse, superb creativity.

The narrator, a drama director not a mas man, must have a poetic, melodious voice as commentator. His story must stitch the threads of history, the total cultural package in a dramatic and sensitive monologue, enhanced by alluring music, appropriate calypsoes to keep the tempo honed and interestingly pertinent, and scripted for sequential incantations intertwined with factual information that would make the 50-minute musical presentation strikingly memorable and enjoyable. To repeat, visuals, music and storytelling must be wrought, melded with poetry, to create a melodic dispensation of our rich indigenous cultural life, incorporated with all races with just sufficient players on stage superbly choreographed, in a unified template for disciplined orchestration.

For this concert or any musical to succeed, the flag bearer-master-designer-choreographer-creator must use his skill not to produce cheap spectacle of fluffy mas, but validly original ideas in which the whole show must revel in ingenious original creations, through our cultural diversity where at times, only a hint to the projected idealism must be imaginably realised. Where were Desperadoes, the moko jumbies, the G pans, All Stars, the National Steel Band Orchestra?

Why Rudder and Machel Montano running like a mad man with foolish antics and whose poor performances created a weak climax to the opening concert? In short, give us a wise, experienced drama director not a mas man. To create a harmonious experience where all our indigenous art forms could make an unforgettable impact the world over, to inspire love, beauty, passion and conviviality.