Two weeks ago, a group of diehard pan lovers com­mit­ted to their cause as they plant­ed them­selves on the Greens at the Queen’s Park Sa­van­nah (QPS). Sport­ing sneak­ers, shorts and face masks, and armed with chairs, cool­ers and eats, they com­mem­o­rat­ed Panora­ma semis Sun­day amid a glob­al pause on in­ter­ac­tive ac­tiv­i­ties due to COVID. To­day, on this Valen­tine’s Day and on what would have been Di­manche Gras, it seems on­ly fit­ting to ex­tend the love trib­ute to the home of Panora­ma and T&T’s heart­beat of cul­ture, food and recre­ation, the QPS.

Open your eyes and you’ve been trans­port­ed there; to all 260 acres of the lush QPS or the Sa­van­nah, as it is fond­ly called. With a perime­ter of some 3.5 km, at some points skirt­ed by poui and samaan trees, and a paved path that en­com­pass­es the green space, it has been of­ten called the largest round­about in the world. Some would say you’re on hal­lowed ground.

All around, a 360-de­gree view en­gages. To the north, the ma­jes­tic North­ern range ris­es above the Em­per­or Val­ley Zoo, giv­ing way to the un­du­lat­ing hills of the Roy­al Botan­ic Gar­dens and across the road, “the Hol­lows”. To the west be­yond clus­ters of trees, are strik­ing spec­i­mens of colo­nial ar­chi­tec­ture known as the Mag­nif­i­cent Sev­en. On the South­east­ern side, a paved area serves as an out­door food hub which most­ly comes alive at night. The fare usu­al­ly in­cludes dou­bles, corn soup, burg­ers, wings and fries cooked on the spot, co­conut wa­ter and an ar­ray of ex­ot­ic juices. From this area, the en­ter­tain­ment and con­cert venue to the south of the Sa­van­nah can be ac­cessed. Here sits the Grand Stand and for many years be­fore, di­rect­ly op­po­site, sat the North Stand. Be­tween them, there is the “Big Stage”.

The Big Stage has forged count­less stal­warts of Car­ni­val, ca­lyp­so and steel­pan. Home of Panora­ma semis and fi­nals, and the Ca­lyp­so Monarch com­pe­ti­tion on Di­manche Gras night, it is the bel­ly of the bac­cha­nal on Car­ni­val Mon­day and Tues­day. It is T&T’s epi­cen­tre of free­dom and ex­pres­sion, ju­bi­la­tion and in­te­gra­tion.

On this stage in the Sa­van­nah, At­ti­la the Hun and Roar­ing Li­on rav­aged with their bit­ing lyrics, Lord Kitch­en­er and Ca­lyp­so Rose blazed with tem­po, and Mighty Spar­row; Black Stal­in; Chalk­dust; Ex­plain­er; Cro Cro and Gyp­sy schooled on po­lit­i­cal and so­cial is­sues.

It was here that Crazy de­vel­oped the art of dra­mat­ic pre­sen­ta­tions like swing­ing from ropes with a mon­key on his shoul­der and Su­perBlue climbed atop mu­sic box­es to de­liv­er high en­er­gy per­for­mances spurred on by ap­pre­cia­tive crowds. Where else but at the Sa­van­nah were fan­cy cars wheeled on as dra­mat­ic props in a com­pe­ti­tion and a few dri­ven off as prizes?

Calypso and soca veteran, Crazy (Edwin Ayoung)

It was in this Sa­van­nah that a man who sang about a pan man with a ham­mer and about a Bahia Girl for­ev­er changed the ca­lyp­so dy­nam­ic in 1986, herald­ing a new so­ca­lyp­so of sorts with mu­sic and lyrics that tran­scend­ed colour, creed and class, some said.

It is here that Machel and Natasha proved that be­ing too young to so­ca was nev­er an op­tion and where the lat­est crop of ca­lyp­so­ni­ans like De­von Seale and Karene As­che and Heather Mac In­tosh and Ter­ri Lyons keep guard.

It is here that George Bai­ley en­thralled and Min­shall dared to chal­lenge, where King and Queen of the Bands cos­tumes are ma­jes­ti­cal­ly fanned and some­times top­pled by tem­pera­men­tal winds, and where at Kid­dies Car­ni­val many mar­vel at a sea of bril­liant colours, tex­tures and shapes, skil­ful­ly danced by tiny bod­ies.

Here is where steel­bands in ex­u­ber­ant fren­zy raise the Sa­van­nah dust in the faces of their com­peti­tors and crit­ics alike.

At this place, it is not un­com­mon to at­tend a na­tion­al mass on a spe­cial Feast Day or when the na­tion is in cri­sis, be bathed in fra­grant poui flow­ers in April or at­tend Eman­ci­pa­tion Day cel­e­bra­tions in Ju­ly and Au­gust.

This is the Sa­van­nah where night-time brings gor­geous breezes and scenery set off by glim­mer­ing lights of all shapes and sizes from every an­gle. In this fairy­tale am­biance, apart from lo­cal con­certs and ca­lyp­so shows, many have been en­ter­tained by Ja­maican dance­hall artistes and US and South African singing sen­sa­tions.

Long be­fore it be­came a pre­mier en­ter­tain­ment hub and pub­lic park for team sports and ex­er­cis­ing, the QPS had been a sug­ar es­tate UWI Pro­fes­sor Emeri­ta of His­to­ry, Dr Brid­get Br­ere­ton told Sun­day Guardian via email.

“What be­came the QPS was orig­i­nal­ly a sug­ar es­tate called “Par­adise”, and it was bought from the Peschiers, a French Cre­ole fam­i­ly, by Gov­er­nor Wood­ford in 1817. So it has been a pub­lic space for over 200 years. It be­came the main open green space for Port-of-Spain, some­times de­scribed as “the lungs of the city.” When Queen Vic­to­ria came to the British throne in 1837 it was named for her,” Br­ere­ton said.

Ac­cord­ing to the pro­fes­sor, the Sa­van­nah served as a cow pas­ture, but it soon be­came the cen­tre for sports and recre­ation. It was pri­mar­i­ly used for horse rac­ing, with the orig­i­nal Grand Stand hav­ing been con­struct­ed for spec­ta­tors in 1853. It al­so be­came the main venue for crick­et, foot­ball and oth­er team sports, and kite fly­ing in the dry sea­son.

“In the first half of the 1900s, an elec­tric tram ran around the QPS and it was a favourite trip to take. And the paved side­walk around the edge of the QPS, which used to be known as the “Pitch Walk”, has al­ways been the place for walk­ing, jog­ging and strolling,” Br­ere­ton said.

The ear­ly 1900s saw the Sa­van­nah be­ing used for King and Queen of the Bands and steel­band com­pe­ti­tions and the pa­rade of the bands on Mon­day and Tues­day.

NCC Chair­man Win­ston “Gyp­sy” Pe­ters de­scribed the QPS as the largest recre­ation­al space in Port-of-Spain and “one of our city’s most bustling mar­ket­places.”

“Known as the Big Yard back in the day, and now called ‘Car­ni­val City’, the Sa­van­nah has grown and de­vel­oped over the years to be­come our na­tion’s pre­mier cul­tur­al space and in­deed the home of Trinidad and To­ba­go Car­ni­val,” Pe­ters said.

The pi­o­neer of dra­mat­ic pre­sen­ta­tions at the Big Yard in the Ca­lyp­so Monarch seg­ment of Di­manche Gras, vet­er­an ca­lyp­son­ian Crazy (Ed­win Ay­oung), rem­i­nisced on his ex­cit­ing ap­pear­ances at the Sa­van­nah be­gin­ning with his de­but on the Big Stage in 1978.

“I was the first per­son to come out of any ob­ject at the Sa­van­nah. I was the first ca­lyp­son­ian to ever go on a Di­manche Gras stage bare­back. You re­mem­ber with “Dust­bin Cov­er” in 1978? Rose won the crown and I run sec­ond. A fel­la named Os­car from Sesame Street used to come out of a dust­bin and I did it in Di­manche Gras and when I come out from a dust­bin, the crowd roar be­cause they nev­er see any­thing like that,” said the kaiso bard who al­so in­vent­ed parang so­ca.

“In 1983 when I was singing a ca­lyp­so called “So­ca Tarzan”, I swing down from a rope in the Grand Stand with a mon­key on my back. And when the peo­ple roar, the mon­key get fright­ened and run un­der­neath the stage. When I say where meh mon­key, the peo­ple in the Grand Stand start to roar. Is the biggest roar peo­ple say they ever hear in the Grand Stand.”

The ded­i­cat­ed artiste whose lat­est of­fer­ing, “The Awak­en­ing”, ex­plores a meet­ing with the man who cre­at­ed the COVID virus, said he was al­so the first to dri­ve ve­hi­cles on stage as he made his en­trance in a lim­ou­sine for his ca­lyp­so, “To be a Man”, al­so in 1983.

A section from Rosalind Gabriel’s 2007 presentation, “Many Faces, One Nation” on the Savannah stage

Crazy al­so shared fond mem­o­ries of when his 1985 Road March hit was played at the Sa­van­nah when Pope John Paul the sec­ond came to T&T.

“Pope John Paul II was in Trinidad when I won the Road March in 1985 with a song named, “Suck Meh Soucouyant”. In those days the po­lice band used to play the Road March when any dig­ni­tary came down here and the Pope was in the Sa­van­nah and the band start­ed to jam. The Pope start to tap his feet be­cause the song in­fec­tious eh. But if he did know the words to the song, he woul­da nev­er tap his feet,” Crazy laughed.

As many look for­ward to a re­turn to a nor­mal Car­ni­val sea­son with ac­tiv­i­ties at their favourite venue next year, tonight the cul­mi­na­tion of what would have been Car­ni­val 2021 will be marked by a scaled-down vir­tu­al ver­sion of Di­manche Gras called, “The Car­ni­val World: Be­yond Vir­tu­al”.

But the Sa­van­nah will al­ways hold a spe­cial place in the hearts of many, even be­yond the bor­ders of this coun­try, Pe­ters said.

“For us, at the NCC and in T&T, we con­sid­er the Sa­van­nah our crown jew­el; a pre­cious re­source that we must pre­serve, pro­tect and pro­mote in equal mea­sure for this gen­er­a­tion and count­less oth­ers to come,” he added.

Q: What does the Queen’s Park Sa­van­nah mean to you?

Crazy

Ca­lyp­so vet­er­an, Crazy (Ed­win Ay­oung): I used to go to Nel­son Boys’ RC where Chalk­dust used to teach. That was in 1954 when I was ten years old. We used to be in the Queen’s Park Sa­van­nah play­ing crick­et and al­so foot­ball. I was the cap­tain of Nel­son Street crick­et team and we used to play against oth­er schools. I used to go and fly kite, yeah. I have been in­volved with the Sa­van­nah six­ty-some­thing years. I al­so played with a se­nior grade, cham­pi­on club called Cromp­ton Crick­et Club. A lot of old fel­las will know that. In the Sa­van­nah, I played against men like Andy Gan­teaume, Alvin Corneal, West In­di­an play­ers yeah.

When­ev­er they hav­ing events like ca­lyp­so, ex­tem­po I al­ways in the Grand Stand. When­ev­er TU­CO hav­ing elec­tions and ting, I does be there.

One of my favourite tunes is “Sa­van­nah Grass” by Kees. Kees and I took out a pho­to and every­body say I am his fa­ther (be­cause of the re­sem­blance).

I used to play mas too. I play mas at the age of ten with Trinidad All Stars. I was in the Sa­van­nah cross­ing the stage as a big King Sailor. (As an adult) I used to play mas with All Stars. I was All Stars all the way.

I used to play pan with High­landers. I have 64 pan songs. I sing for Boogsie Sharpe, Ray Hol­man, Clive Bradley…for all the bands in Trinidad. I and Kitch­en­er on par with (num­ber of) pan songs. So is long time I in­volved with the Sa­van­nah.

Ros­alind Gabriel

Ros­alind Gabriel, pro­lif­ic Kid­dies Car­ni­val band­leader, TTC­BA Pres­i­dent and NCC Com­mis­sion­er:

The ear­li­est mem­o­ries I have of the Sa­van­nah are re­al hap­py ones as­so­ci­at­ed with what was then called the Zoo Pavil­lion. Every Sun­day meant a vis­it to the zoo and ice cream. In my ear­ly years, the Sa­van­nah meant run­ning free in the Hol­lows, up and down the gen­tle hills, lots of fresh air and end­less hap­pi­ness.

Up­on the birth of my first child, it meant the op­por­tu­ni­ty of proud­ly push­ing a pram round the Sa­van­nah, there­by in­tro­duc­ing my son at first, and then two daugh­ters af­ter him to the won­ders and hap­pi­ness of the Sa­van­nah.

The Sa­van­nah al­so meant boiled corn, co­conuts, pholourie, oys­ters and snow cone. Any dri­ve from home meant that we in­evitably would reach the Sa­van­nah and the treats that we knew await­ed us there.

When my life­long ca­reer and love af­fair with mas be­gan, the Sa­van­nah took on a new mean­ing for me. The cre­ation of mas be­gan and end­ed with, “How will this cos­tume look on the Sa­van­nah stage?” The Sa­van­nah stage has taught us all that when we thought a cos­tume was per­fect, the stage proved us wrong. Many a time af­ter the first ap­pear­ance there, we went back to the draw­ing board.

There is no place in the world for us Tri­nis like the Sa­van­nah. It is part of our dai­ly lives, a walk; a run; foot­ball; kite fly­ing; rug­by; crick­et, and best of all, it is the “Home of Car­ni­val."

Owner of JuiceMe, John Washington, left, serves a customer at the Queen's Park Savannah.

“JuiceMe”

John Wash­ing­ton, sole trad­er, “JuiceMe”:

For the last 12 years I have been com­ing down to the QPS to serve the pub­lic. My busi­ness en­tails the sell­ing of 64 dif­fer­ent flavours of fresh lo­cal juices. From ply­ing my trade at this sa­van­nah, from my old­er cus­tomers I have learnt var­i­ous fruits and veg­eta­bles that bring med­i­c­i­nal val­ue to juices when mixed to­geth­er. Cus­tomers re­turn to my ta­ble as they say my blends heal their ail­ments. The two most pop­u­lar sell­ers are my mix­ture of lo­cal kale, rough skin lemon and cu­cum­ber which has been known to low­er blood pres­sure and pro­vide a nat­ur­al detox for the sys­tem, and my blend of pink grape­fruit, rough skin lemon with slight gin­ger and turmer­ic. This rids the body of in­flam­ma­tion.

In serv­ing my cus­tomers here, I meet many peo­ple across dif­fer­ent eco­nom­ic, re­li­gious and racial back­grounds. My blend of juices rep­re­sents the mix­ing of all Tri­nis in the Sa­van­nah which, to me, is like our na­tion­al liv­ing room.