Lead Editor —Newsgathering
ryan.bachoo@cnc3.co.tt
On the night of Independence in 1962, when the Union Jack was lowered and the red, white and black flag was hoisted for the first time, 16-year-old Mavis John left her home in Morvant and made her way to Woodford Square. She wanted to be there, in the crowd, for history.
Little did she know then that more than four decades later, her voice would give life to one of the country’s most beloved national songs, God Bless Our Nation, and that she herself would become a symbol of T&T’s pride and promise.
“I remember being in the railings, waiting for that moment,” she recalled. “There was so much excitement, and in your teenage mind you just knew history was taking place. When the Union Jack came down and our flag went up, the whole square erupted.”
Today, as the nation marks its 63rd Independence anniversary, John reflects not only on that night of transformation, but also on her own journey—one intertwined with the growth of a young republic.
After completing school, John became a teacher at Morvant Anglican, a profession she loved. But music was always her other passion.
She began singing publicly at 15 and, after decades of balancing the classroom and the stage, she chose to retire at 53 to dedicate herself fully to her art.
Her career unfolded in parallel with the cultural blossoming of post-Independence Trinidad and Tobago.
“In my early days, we sang a lot of covers, especially Black American music,” she said. “But with Independence came a kind of maturity. We began to ask: what is our music, what makes us? Independence brought about a consciousness, a pride, a sense of belonging.”
A Song for the Nation
That consciousness found its most enduring expression in God Bless Our Nation, written by Marjorie Padmore and recorded by John. Over the years, it has become inseparable from her name.
She laughs at suggestions that her rendition could have replaced the national anthem.
“I’m afraid that is not how it works,” she says with characteristic modesty. Yet the association remains strong. “People call me and start singing the song on the phone,” she joked. “It has followed me everywhere.”
For John, Independence is not just about the raising of a flag but about identity, responsibility, and belonging.
“I don’t think it was an error that I was born here,” she reflected. “It might not have been in the best part of the city, but it was here, with all the values of what is Trinidad and Tobago. Independence means maturing, taking care of yourself—of a country and of humanity.”
She sees artistes as central to that maturity. “Sometimes they play a bigger role than politicians. Look at what Yung Bredda’s song did in the world—that’s the power of music.”
As T&T turns 63, John’s wish for her country is unity.
“We are one people, one body under God. If we are divided, we cannot build. We need one vision, one purpose. Think of when Hasely Crawford came home with Olympic gold in 1976, or when our beauty queens triumphed—those were moments that bonded us. We need that again.”
She pauses, then adds with candour: “I’m a little peeved at the way we keep our streets. We must love our country enough to do better.”
Despite imperfections, her hope remains steadfast. More than six decades after she stood in Woodford Square, watching a colonial flag fall and a new one rise, John still sees the same promise in T&T.
“The pride is still there,” she said softly. “It always will be.”
