ctually, it’s not quite true that life in Trinidad and Tobago is just one big party. To the newcomer, this might well seem to be the case. With one of the highest public-holiday counts in

Photos: Tadjah: Bertrand De Peaza, Drummers: Kenneth Lee, Dancers: Bertrand De Peaza, Divali Lights: Bertrand De Peaza

the world, and festivals hailing from half a dozen different cultures (not to mention, of course, our world-famous Carnival), something almost always seems to be going on.

There are Muslim festivals, Hindu festivals, Christian festivals — there’s even a Carib festival, celebrated in August by the few remaining descendants of the indigenous Amerindian people. And the secular world has not been backward in adding to the list: music festivals, steelband festivals, heritage festivals, fishermen’s festivals, celebrations for Independence and Emancipation— even the sporting calendar takes on a festive air with its regattas, competitions and tournaments.

It is not just a question of quantity: many of our local festivals are renowned for their beauty and drama. The poetry of Divali; the flamboyance of Hosay; the solemnity of Corpus Christi; the sheer, messy fun of Phagwa — each of these has carved out its own special niche in the Trinidad and Tobago psyche. Let them do the same to you. (DY)

Phagwa is a festival of fun and laughter. It celebrates springtime and renewal, harking back to the ancient life of the holy youth Prahalad, whose name means joy. The climax of the day is the Festival of Colours, a street celebration where people arrive wearing white and leave alive with colour, their clothes having been squirted with brightly-dyed water called abeer. This is Pichakaree, an art form in which humanity is the canvas. The festival offers devotees a unique opportunity for release and self-expression.

In September or October, as the cycle of the seasons draws to its end, it’s time for Ramleela, the longest-running street theatre event in the Caribbean. For nine days, at about 20 venues around the island, communities come together to act out stories from Hindu scripture. Texts from the Ramayan are read to music, while brightly-costumed dancers perform the narrative. Ramleela culminates with the burning in effigy of the defeated villain Rawan, a graphic reminder that good triumphs over evil.
(Joey Clarke)

The insistent throb of the tassa drums takes you straight to the heart of Hosay. It’s a sound that goes all the way through you and comes out the other side. The tadjahs, brilliant and exotic, glitter with mirrors and sequins, unbelievably intricate. It’s hard to believe that all this splendour and vibrancy began as an act of mourning.

Hosay, at least as celebrated in Trinidad, is a religious festival that has somehow taken on a life of its own. Originally a commemoration of the death of the grandsons of the Prophet Mohammed during the Battle of Kerbela, Hosay has lost much of its sombreness.

Today it is a colourful street parade stretching over three nights. On the first night, hundreds of colourful flags symbolise the famous battle; on the second night, two small tadjahs (miniatures of the martyrs’ tombs, made of bamboo, tissue and mirrors) are carried through the streets; and on the third night, the large tadjahs, the true masterpieces, are wheeled through crowds of dancers and drummers in a carnival-like procession.

The spectacle ends at the water’s edge, where tadjahs and moons are cast into the sea, accompanied by prayers and offerings. The main centres of Hosay in Trinidad are St James, Tunapuna and Couva. This is a festival which has long crossed all ethnic and religious lines. While parts of the Muslim community are unhappy about the direction Hosay has taken, it is a rare Trinidadian who can resist the compelling rhythms of the tassa drums or the beauty of the tadjahs. (DY/MK)

Steelband festivals are not, of course, religious in nature; but for many Trinbagonians, pan is pretty much a religious experience. As the number of performance showcases increases, so do the number of devotees, both local and foreign.

Chief among festivals is Panorama, the nationwide competition that climaxes just before Carnival. Panyards, where the bands practise, are open to the public year-round; in the weeks before Carnival, they become feverish hives of activity as the players strive to perfect the complex orchestral arrangements that they will perform in competition. A steelband can be anything from a small, traditional, pan-around-the neck group to a massive entity comprising 100 players and close to 400 pans.

Pan takes to the streets in August, when steelbands perform all over the city during Steelband Week: the Brian Lara Promenade is a popular venue. October brings, in alternate years, the Schools Steelband Music Festival, where young pannists get to strut their stuff, and the Pan is Beautiful Festival (World Steelband Festival), which brings together some of the best steel orchestras in the world. In recent years, pan has made gigantic strides on the world stage: bands visit Trinidad from as far afield as Switzerland, Denmark and Japan. (DY/MK)

Photo: Tassa Drummers: Mark Lyndersay

Usually occurring in October or November, Divali celebrates the triumph of good over evil by honouring Lakshmi, goddess of light, beauty, riches and spiritual wealth. All across Trinidad, symbolic deyas (tiny terracotta oil lamps) are lit by their thousands at dusk and strung out along walls, gardens and windowsills; the hills and plains flicker magically as darkness falls. In Chaguanas and San Fernando, the streets glow brightly with elaborate bamboo frames lined with lights and competing for the honour of best decoration.

In individual homes, peace and goodwill are the watchwords; pujas (prayer ceremonies) are performed during the day, followed later by hospitality extended to friends and neighbours. Traditionally parsad, a sweet dough mixture with fruit, is prepared as an offering to the gods, and is shared with all guests.

A nationwide celebration, the festival has blossomed to include pageants of dance and song, and competitions for exotic Divali queens. The Divali Nagar site, on the outskirts of Chaguanas, is the hub of Indian arts and cultural exhibitions at this time of year. (MK)

Take parang, for example: a unique Spanish-based Christmas music that originated in Venezuela but which is now virtually incomprehensible to Venezuelans. Paranderos (the musicians) and their cuatros (tiny four-stringed guitars) are popular in bars and clubs during December, and many a house party would be incomplete without a parang side to entertain. Country villages such as Lopinot and Paramin, where many of the villagers are Spanish descendants, are famous for their seasonal parang performances.

Traditional Christmas carols also have their place, in Christian churches and in outdoor performances, such as Carols by Candlelight in Port of Spain’s Botanical Gardens. This is the European legacy, along with gaily-bedecked Christmas trees and crêches (miniature nativity scenes) strung with multitudes of coloured lights. The New Year is ushered in with the biggest (and fanciest) parties on the calendar, when everyone steps out in their very finest style. (DY/MK)