Aba A Luke

Is it just me, or has the spir­it of the true Tri­ni Car­ni­val tak­en a nose­dive? This isn't a col­umn, but I feel the need to vent so please, bear with me... What is it with Trinida­di­ans and this up­town be­hav­iour? Did all the re­al, wassy, spir­it­ed Tri­nis die and leave be­hind a rash-like in­va­sion of peo­ple who live for fash­ion, chit-chat­ting and net­work­ing, eat­ing like glut­tons at all-in­clu­sive fetes and binge-drink­ing be­cause they feel they must get their $600 worth by the time the last band sings? What­ev­er hap­pened to at­tend­ing a fete to do just that–FETE? The Car­ni­val ex­pe­ri­ence has di­min­ished and, for the most part, the folks who are at­tend­ing fetes seem to be do­ing so for all the wrong rea­sons. Some may take of­fence to this piece but it re­al­ly isn't meant to of­fend–just to shake us, as a peo­ple, back to re­al­i­ty. Trin­bag­o­ni­ans have been spo­ken of around the world as a care­free peo­ple, full of life, zest and en­er­gy–nev­er a peo­ple to care what any­one thinks.

Tri­nis make their own rules, es­pe­cial­ly at Car­ni­val time. Tri­nis fete like no oth­er peo­ple, from any oth­er part of the globe, pos­si­bly can. T&T is the Mec­ca of Car­ni­val–the place it all be­gan and the place that con­tin­ues to be cred­it­ed for its in­flu­ence across the world. Here it is, though, that in 2010, a Car­ni­val ex­pe­ri­ence is de­fined by an all-in­clu­sive event that be­gins at 4 pm and ends prompt­ly at mid­night. This is meant to cater for those who feel that crime has hin­dered their abil­i­ty to go where they want, when they want. And hon­est­ly, to some ex­tent, it has. How­ev­er, as Bun­ji Gar­lin right­ly states in his 2010 con­tri­bu­tion–Brave–if we al­low the true Car­ni­val fet­ing cul­ture to die be­cause of a few evil minds, what will we have in the next five years? What will tourists see, ex­pe­ri­ence and un­der­stand about our Car­ni­val at­mos­phere when they ar­rive? I'll tell you: they'll mere­ly re­alise that nowa­days, T&T's Car­ni­val is quite the same as any car­ni­va­lesque at­mos­phere, any­where in the world; it's noth­ing spe­cial any­more.

ABOVE: ?A look back at what a re­al Car­ni­val fete ex­pe­ri­ence was all about. Pho­tos: David Wears

The pub­lic fetes, the way we'd fete till dawn, drip­ping beads of sweat, bub­bling with joy­ful emo­tion and win­ing low to any­thing from chut­ney to rhyth­mic J'ou­vert tunes and the hard-core so­ca beats that pump adren­a­line to the hearts of every pa­tron–that is the essence of the Tri­ni Car­ni­val fet­ing cul­ture. ?In 2010, Bazodee Fri­day was a shame­ful dis­play of a crowd who'd come mere­ly to strut their stuff, chat with those they hadn't seen for the week and stand in heels to prove they could look great at a Car­ni­val fete. Sad­ly, there was no vibe and the so­ca bands couldn't be blamed. The feters are to blame. We as a peo­ple must take re­spon­si­bil­i­ty for the im­mi­nent crash of Car­ni­val. Car­ni­val is that sin­gle time of year when peo­ple of all so­cio-eco­nom­ic back­grounds min­gle and mis­be­have as one.

There's no ques­tion of whether one per­son is from the Beetham and an­oth­er is from West­moor­ings. It's that time of year when–in the past–we'd wine to­geth­er, drink to­geth­er and smile cheer­ful­ly at one an­oth­er. Now, with the ad­vent of all-in­clu­sive bands–there is seg­re­ga­tion and they say it's be­cause of crime–but is it re­al­ly? Or, is it be­cause there's mon­ey to be made? Ever stopped to think that the rev­eller in the all-in­clu­sive band that you're jump­ing along­side just might be the girl­friend of a drug baron from the Beetham? She, too, can af­ford to pay the ex­or­bi­tant price for safe­ty, free food and free liquor. Food for thought...are we re­al­ly solv­ing the prob­lem of crime by cre­at­ing ex­clu­sive at­mos­pheres for the elite, or are we killing Car­ni­val and seg­re­gat­ing so­ci­ety fur­ther in the process? T&T, in the weeks ahead, you can find me at Army Fete and Brass–The Re­birth. I palanced with so­ca's finest at WASA fete last week­end too. I in­tend to keep my Car­ni­val un­taint­ed by ex­clu­siv­i­ty and I in­tend to do it freely, like I did ten years ago.

ABOVE: ?A shot from Tribe's all-in­clu­sive fete. pret­ty as can be, these women strut their stuff in the most so­cial way. A far cry from the re­al Car­ni­val tra­di­tion.