Commentary
Dara Healy
Dara Healy
There seem to be bloodstains everywhere
Murder flies in the atmosphere
A contractor was killed in Cedros
You can see where the blood was spilled
In San Juan, Sahib was on a spree
When the car turned and he died suddenly
This was the saddest
That seven skeletons the workers found in the yard
– The seven skeletons in the backyard, Lord Executioner
The pain caused by the latest murder in the Pamber Steel Orchestra has many threads.
These threads reach back in time, connecting decades, even centuries of hurt and loss. Like the pattern of a spider’s web on a pan, the threads hold stories and attitudes about an instrument that is indigenous to our country but needs to be better protected.
The web revolves, revolves around geniuses like Anthony Williams, sitting quietly in his humble, under-recognized and unsecured financial for someone who created magic music in a cookie pan.
The web revolves around early 20th century pan players, labeled as vagabonds, hooligans and outcasts. As the Mighty Sparrow lamented, “They enjoy your song, they enjoy your music/But still they’re so prejudiced/Put you in such a low and vile category/Man, they give the impression that the Caribbean is unclean. ”
The weaving continues, reaching thousands of years into the Ifa/Orisha belief system of the Yoruba. Practitioners recognize Ogun’s influence in the creation of the steel pan, the net-like instrument that can now be heard in almost every corner of our world.
In 1938, The Calypsonian Executioner commented on an apparent crime wave in Port of Spain. The discovery of seven dismembered skeletons with “heads facing east and west” appeared to be part of a larger reality of social ills, as Calypso Executor highlighted issues from suicide to domestic violence and infanticide.
So while the discovery of the skeletons was disturbing, the reaction to the find revealed a familiarity and perhaps even numbness to the crime.
Fast forward more than 80 years after the Executioner’s calypso: kids must learn to “choke and cover” from gunfire, while students beat up a maximotor so badly it may not be able to work for months .
Today, we have real conversations about the shootings of innocent people, human trafficking, and corrupt officials who ensure that the criminal network is well supplied with weapons and ammunition.
Can we feel outrage over killing in a yard?
In our culture, the yard is a powerful force for growth and unity. The mosque courtyards of the 1800s fueled the creativity evident in the traditional masquerades of our time.
Orisha’s courtyards nurtured many community groups. As such, steel bands like the Pamberi Steel Orchestra offer more than just a place to rehearse. They are a safe space where creativity can flow and be fully explored. For many, the yard is also a space of identity and belonging.
As the people of the Caribbean grappled with independence from colonialism, much was written and interpreted about the court as a cosmic space.
That is, for authors, playwrights, and performance artists, it was important to focus on and understand the courtyard as a place to gather and build family, but also to resist cultural oppression and dominance. For many cultural practitioners and philosophers such as Lloyd Best, the garden was the focal point for fostering community and resilience.
On another level, the garden is a place of obia, correctly spelled from the language of West African origin. This is not negative, anglicized “obeah” or the black magic of Hollywood sensationalism.
In its ancestral form, the obia speaks of ritual, healing, and a deeper understanding of the interconnectedness between humans and the universe. It is about recognizing that the connection between the pan and Ogun gives sacred status to the garden; gardens are sacred ground.
Whenever the community gathers to make music, a portal opens that invites powerful energy into the courtyard. However, when we allow blood to spill into the courts of the pan and the mass, we are encouraging the opening of another portal.
One who refuses to recognize our sacred nature. One that makes us numb or blind (or both) to attacks on our cultural foundations.
We should be outraged by what happened in Pamberi, but the time demands that we do more.
Plant the flags, protect our gardens. Let’s weave a better story for the generations watching.
Dara E Healy is a performance artist and founder of the Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN.
