Pichakaaree - an intimate community voice

Mohip Poonwassie creates history by being the first person to score a hat trick at the annual Pichakaaree competition.

Photo: ADRIAN BOODAN

“After so many years of indenture ship, /How come jahajees still feeling the whip?” is the question posed by Lynn Khan at the Pichakaaree Final at Divali Nagar during Kendra Phagwa Festival 2005. The Festival of Colour was held on Easter Sunday because of the constraint of having to survive under an alien calendar.

Organising Pichakaaree was difficulty. Everyone missed Seeromani who was always kind and helpful to all the artistes. Except Solo, ABEL and NGC, no corporate sponsorship was responsive. In the end, however, Minister Joan Yuille-Williams and President of HCU, Harry Harnarine intervened to make Pichakaaree 2005 possible.

The lyrics of Lyn Khan’s chorus are symptomatic of the central concern of the pichakaaree stage this year. In fact, it might well be the central concern of the entire Indo-Trinidadian community in particular the thousands of abeer-drenched pichakaaree lovers who loudly supported the poets and performers.

Run Coolie Run, a vigorously performed ditty on Sparrow’s Congo Man scripted into the perception of persecution of Indo-Trinidadians; Na Chap out dem bacha hands, a provocative response to Cro Cro’s theology of violent means for economic and educational levelling; the powerfully performed Rise Indian; the emotional outpourings of Vindamati’s Andhaa Kaanoon, The Law is Blind—they all confessed a preoccupation with being victimised and insecure.

Pichakaaree 2005 is an indicator of a community troubled in extreme.

It is not the first time, since independence, that the community has felt disturbed. Formerly, however, it was the politician who was the messenger of the community’s feelings. A politician is not often the most trustworthy messenger because it may exaggerate.

The message from the pichakaaree stage is a more intimate voice coming from ordinary folks, none of them stars, just ordinary folks, whose intensity of emotion held the large audience in such a way that they were oblivious to the monotony.

Jahaajee Massacre was chosen as the theme this year. It fed into the preoccupation of the people and gave fuel to their script. This in itself has its own lessons.

The organisers thought that the theme would have harvested a crop of songs recording the 120th Anniversary of the bloody event of October 30, 1884 in San Fernando where Jahajees were shot down as they attempted to purchase a cultural space in Trinidad. The composers, however, had little or no information, and there is little available. They had to find another way to interpret the event at Bali Daan Tola in Mon Repos, San Fernando.

The dynamics that provided the grist for Pichakaaree provide an interesting study—the mix of ignorance of history of such a critical event in our history; the loss of Caroni which means more than jobs, but a way of life; issues like SDMS Radio license, Devant Maharaj, Vijay, and Seeromani Naryansingh and other cases in recent times and lack of equity for cultural funding for Indian Culture all provided potent ingredients.

The loss of power of its preferred party because of infighting and charges of corruption during their tenure and their inability to rise to the challenges of runaway crime and social issues facing the community seem to deepen the despair.

Marva McKenzie’s Culture on the Rise provided an interesting counterbalance. Here was an African Lady, and she is a lady of the finest order, wearing saaree, with reassuring lyrics of the survival of “hamaar culture—our culture” for “ek sow barras—100 years.”

With the festive songs, it provided an oasis in the charged atmosphere. The crowd, small at first, but growing to a fairly large mass of purple, was well behaved. I am most pleased that there was no alcohol in the compound. Not a police was present.

Festive Pichakaarees provided some forty minutes of non-stop community dancing. A group of youths detached themselves from the mass and danced garba; this, I hope, spreads next year. The community has lost its folk dances and needs to possess those steps.

I could make that happen in five years if I could get the Government or community interested to grant my project on Community dance just $300,000.00 and some instruments.

This year pichakaaree found a life of its own, the artistes came together and worked it out. Mohip Poonwassie, now married to a special young lady, Jennifer, has matured from a child contestant, to a complete artist—make up artist, costume designer, choreographer, singer, composer, performer, first hat trick Pichakaaree Champion and star.