CROP OVER 2000

SWEET FOR DAYS

 

By Donna Pierre

Trinidad Guardian

August 19, 2000

Page 22

 

They insist it is not Carnival, but it was hard to overlook the great similarities that the Bajans' July festival bore to Trinidad's largest festival.

 

From the moment you entered Grantley Adams airport where costumes were hung on walls, you could not help but know it was Carnival…oops, Crop Over time.

 

The radio stations pumped the airwaves with enticing soca and kaiso music (well…at least for a portion of the day, before they switched back to dub and R&B).  And, there was the usual heavy advertising of fetes, featuring top acts in the country.

 

Then, on the nation's one local television station, there was a round-table discussion called "Festival state," which examined various aspects of Crop Over.

 

What caught my attention one night was the repugnant manner a bandleader displayed, as he openly vented his objection to the Trini input in costume making.  He suggested to authorities that those bands be debarred from competition.

 

Others on the panel strongly opposed this suggestion, declaring that even if they made the costumes in Barbados, they still had to import the materials from Trinidad.  But hey, what is the problem anyway?  Bajans use our materials, we push their music and top brass bands - it's all in the spirit of Caribbean unity.

 

For the King and Queen of the Bands final, on the Sunday night before Kadooment Day, backstage at the National Stadium took on the appearance of 'the drag' at the Queen's park Savannah.

 

Besides some very familiar-looking portrayals, there were a number of renowned Trini mas designers, led by veteran Geraldo Viera Snr.

 

The funny thing about this was that almost every king and queen costume was either designed or made with Trinidadian assistance.

 

The most outstanding queen entrant, alleged in hushed tones to be the work of Viera's son, unfortunately fell while making its entrance on stage and was disqualified.  But, the winning king undoubtedly displayed the trademark signature of D Midas Associates' Stephen Derek who, incidentally, was sipping brandy while calmly sitting backstage.

 

Trinidadians are a resolute and stoic breed, and the scores who made the trip to Barbados to enjoy every bit of another carnival did just that, ignoring the comments of their reluctant hosts.  Some even found the Bajan concerns comical, countering with the point that Trinis afford everyone the red-carpet treatment at our Carnival, especially Barbadians.

 

However, costumes made by Trinidadians seem to be just the tip of the iceberg for Bajans and the problem they have with outside influence.  The music produced by several artistes were deemed as "being geared towards a Trini market."  For what it is worth, at every party - especially at Wadadah - no one cared if the music being played came from Japan, Alaska or Trinidad.

 

One week after Kadooment, it seemed all was forgiven, if not forgotten.  Bajans packed the courtyard at the After Dark nightspot to be entertained by Trinidad's premier cultural ambassador, David Rudder.  As they swayed and obeyed Rudder's every command, nary an objection was heard - as was the case when he performed a fortnight earlier, at the Party Monarch Final on the East Coast.

 

A Bajan patron, fortified with Cockspur Rum and no doubt impressed by Brian Lara's score of 112 runs against England a few days earlier, was loudly singing praises to the Trinidadian batsman, acclaiming him as "the greatest batsman ever" while the refrain to Rudder's "High mas" played in the background.

 

But you must give the Bajans points for their differences.

 

We have Carib International Soca Monarch; they have "Eddie's Hardware Party Monarch."  We have National Calypso Monarch; they call it "Pic of De Crop Final."  We say Dimanche Gras; they say "Cohobblopot."  Our J'Ouvert heralds Carnival Monday revelry; their "Fo-Day Morning Jam' precedes Bridgetown Market on Spring Garden Highway.  We have Parade of the Bands; they say Kadooment Day.  Iwer says "bottom" in the road; Bajans say "boxsee."  We wine; they "wuk up."

 

For what it's worth, the festival - albeit the name - is great and a lot of fun.

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