Stephon Nicholas

To­ba­go Cor­re­spon­dent

stephon­ni­cholas@hot­mail.com

Love was in the air in Mo­ri­ah on Sat­ur­day as one of the most pop­u­lar To­ba­go Her­itage Fes­ti­val events at­tract­ed hun­dreds of peo­ple. Guests spilled out­side the Mo­ri­ah Mora­vian Church Hall for the re-en­act­ment of the tra­di­tion­al Ole Time Wed­ding.

De­spite the pas­sage of time, some cus­toms are hard to break, as the bride ar­rived late for the 1 pm ser­vice.

No­tably on time, though, was the vil­lage ma­co, who was not in­vit­ed but was still very much present, spread­ing gos­sip. Bal­anc­ing a bas­ket on her head, the vil­lage ma­co, por­trayed by Re­bec­ca Nedd, spilled the tea about the “hop and drop” pas­tor, the late-night ac­tiv­i­ties of the groom and the bride.

Decked smart­ly in a black jack­et, white shirt, black bow tie, white gloves and black top hat, the groom (Garfield Lash­ley) ar­rived at the church hall on the hill along­side the grooms­men.

The bride, Avonelle James Roberts, ar­rived lat­er in a flow­ing white dress, her face cov­ered by a white veil and a pearl neck­lace adorn­ing her neck.

The pas­tor, played by Philbert Joseph, took his du­ties quite se­ri­ous­ly, warn­ing the swoon­ing cou­ple that love can on­ly take them so far, but re­spect will add longevi­ty to the union. He al­so ad­vised the groom not to com­plain about his soon-to-be wife’s culi­nary skills, no mat­ter how bad the food might taste. Im­plor­ing him to look at the glass as half full, he said to think about it as a “cool­ing” agent to flush the sys­tem. He warned that for every man com­plain­ing about the food at home, there was al­ways some­one else will­ing to glad­ly eat it for him.

As the pas­tor delved in­to the for­mal part of the pro­ceed­ings, the vil­lage ma­co seized the op­por­tu­ni­ty to voice her ob­jec­tions.

“Me, me. I know why, it have some chirren out here bawl­ing for dey fa­ther. Me ob­ject,” she shout­ed.

Un­de­terred, the for­mal­i­ties con­tin­ued with the ex­change of rings, and the bride and groom were in­vit­ed to sign the mar­riage cer­tifi­cate. Again, the vil­lage ma­co in­ter­vened, urg­ing the groom to place his arm on the left side of his bride to hide a stitch in the dress that she no­ticed was ripped open from near­ly 30 me­tres away.

The cer­e­mo­ny de­light­ed the au­di­ence, but the re­al spec­ta­cle was the pro­ces­sion through the streets in the blaz­ing sun.

Vil­lagers and vis­i­tors from around the world fol­lowed the wed­ding par­ty, all in full colo­nial-era at­tire, in cel­e­bra­tion, danc­ing the heel and toe and reel and jig, ac­com­pa­nied by a mu­sic truck as well as mu­si­cians play­ing the tam­brin and vi­o­lin.

Among the pro­ces­sion was a woman with a bas­ket of bread­fruit on her head, sym­bol­is­ing the vir­gin­i­ty of the bride, while an­oth­er car­ried a coal pot, prov­ing the bride was not hand to mouth and could have fend­ed for her­self.

For­mer THA sec­re­tary Kwe­si Des Vi­gnes, play­ing mas­sa, was hauled through the pro­ces­sion in the com­fort of a cart.

He told Guardian Me­dia the Ole Time Wed­ding is part of Mo­ri­ah’s rich his­to­ry and iden­ti­ty.

“For the very first wed­ding, my grand­fa­ther played this role, so it’s re­al­ly a fam­i­ly tra­di­tion. All of this hap­pen­ing here is a fam­i­ly tra­di­tion through the vil­lage. We are re­al­ly proud to be from Mo­ri­ah,” he said.

Des Vi­gnes clar­i­fied his role, not­ing an am­i­ca­ble re­la­tion­ship be­tween mas­sa and the rest of the vil­lagers.

“Mas­sa is not a slave own­er. He has freed all his slaves. He is liv­ing good. Every­body has re­ceived land and is hap­py with mas­sa.”

Trinida­di­an vis­i­tor Blair Gopeechan was thrilled with the pro­duc­tion and the preser­va­tion of the cul­ture.

“This is ab­solute­ly mag­i­cal, gor­geous, ethe­re­al,” she said dur­ing an in­ter­view at Mo­ri­ah Junc­tion ahead of the re­cep­tion at Mo­ri­ah Recre­ation Ground.

“It is per­fect. This is what we should be do­ing — cap­tur­ing, ho­n­our­ing the tra­di­tions our an­ces­tors would have passed on.”

Asked what the most en­joy­able as­pect of the pro­duc­tion was, she said, “See­ing the dances be­ing re-en­act­ed, the joy in the faces of the peo­ple in­volved and the joy it is bring­ing to the peo­ple gath­ered in the com­mu­ni­ty.”

To­ba­go Fes­ti­vals CEO Kern Cow­an was pleased to see in­ter­na­tion­al vis­i­tors at the wed­ding, adding the Mo­ri­ah pro­duc­tion con­tin­ues to be one of the pre­mier her­itage events.

“The prod­uct is reach­ing where it needs to reach and there are peo­ple that are in­ter­est­ed in To­ba­go’s cul­ture and what it can show­case,” he said.

Cow­an said the Her­itage Fes­ti­val is at­tract­ing food con­nois­seurs and in­flu­encers, adding to the tourism pack­age the is­land has to of­fer.

“The evo­lu­tion of the fes­ti­val con­tin­ues and in the 39th year we are def­i­nite­ly proud to see where we are now.”

As the fes­ti­val shifts from vil­lage to vil­lage, Cow­an urged the pub­lic to en­joy the ac­tiv­i­ties.

“Get ready to be told the whole sto­ry. Don’t miss any sin­gle night.”

Ten key facts about the Mo­ri­ah Ole Time Wed­ding

Her­itage Fes­ti­val Mar­quee Event: It is the crown jew­el of the an­nu­al To­ba­go Her­itage Fes­ti­val (since 1986), serv­ing as a liv­ing mu­se­um that pre­serves lo­cal cus­toms and draws hun­dreds of spec­ta­tors.

Afro-Eu­ro­pean Syn­the­sis: The event il­lus­trates how To­bag­o­ni­ans his­tor­i­cal­ly blend­ed Eu­ro­pean colo­nial struc­tures (a for­mal Mora­vian church cer­e­mo­ny) with vi­brant African tra­di­tions (street danc­ing and com­mu­nal drum­ming).

19th-Cen­tu­ry Pageantry: The vi­su­al spec­ta­cle is dri­ven by elab­o­rate colo­nial-era fash­ion, fea­tur­ing men in stovepipe top hats and scis­sor-tail coats, and women in bus­tle dress­es and flo­ral hats.

Trousseau Sym­bol­ism: Items car­ried on the heads of the bridal par­ty hold deep mean­ing, such as the coal pot (rep­re­sent­ing do­mes­tic skills) and the bread­fruit (sym­bol­is­ing pu­ri­ty).

The “Brush Back” Dance: The two-hour street pro­ces­sion is char­ac­terised by the “Brush Back,” a high­ly syn­chro­nised, rhyth­mic step dance per­formed by the bridal par­ty and vil­lagers.

The­atri­cal Gos­sip and Dra­ma: Ac­tors play the “vil­lage mac­co” (busy­bod­ies) and jilt­ed ex-lovers, in­ten­tion­al­ly heck­ling the cou­ple to in­ject comedic re­lief and tra­di­tion­al vil­lage dra­ma in­to the pa­rade.

Tra­di­tion­al Tam­brin Mu­sic: There are no mod­ern sound sys­tems; the en­tire street pro­ces­sion moves ex­clu­sive­ly to the acoustic rhythms of tra­di­tion­al To­bag­on­ian folk mu­sic, specif­i­cal­ly fid­dles and tam­brin drums.

Com­mu­ni­ty Prepa­ra­tion: The cel­e­bra­tion be­gins the night be­fore with “Bach­e­lor Night,” where the vil­lage gath­ers for wed­ding feast prepa­ra­tions, tam­brin danc­ing, and drink­ing tra­di­tion­al “pork tea.”

Comedic Re­cep­tion Speech­es: Re­cep­tion toasts are fa­mous for their hy­per­bol­ic hu­mour, with speak­ers in­ten­tion­al­ly mis­us­ing mas­sive vo­cab­u­lary words to play­ful­ly mim­ic aris­to­crat­ic speech.

Gen­er­a­tional Knowl­edge Trans­fer: The event’s great­est im­por­tance lies in cul­tur­al con­ti­nu­ity, cre­at­ing a ded­i­cat­ed space for el­ders to pass down his­tor­i­cal pride, songs, and dances to To­bag­on­ian youth.