Archiving Caribbean Identity: Records,

Community, and Memory John A.

Aarons & Jeannette A. Bastian &
Stanley H. Griffin
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/archiving-caribbean-identity-records-community-and-
memory-john-a-aarons-jeannette-a-bastian-stanley-h-griffin/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Elsevier Weekblad - Week 26 - 2022 Gebruiker

https://ebookmass.com/product/elsevier-weekblad-
week-26-2022-gebruiker/

Jock Seeks Geek: The Holidates Series Book #26 Jill

Brashear

https://ebookmass.com/product/jock-seeks-geek-the-holidates-
series-book-26-jill-brashear/

Memory Politics, Identity and Conflict: Historical

Memory as a Variable 1st Edition Zheng Wang (Auth.)

https://ebookmass.com/product/memory-politics-identity-and-
conflict-historical-memory-as-a-variable-1st-edition-zheng-wang-
auth/

Constructing Catalan Identity: Memory, Imagination, and

the Medieval Michael A. Vargas

https://ebookmass.com/product/constructing-catalan-identity-
memory-imagination-and-the-medieval-michael-a-vargas/
The New York Review of Books – N. 09, May 26 2022
Various Authors

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-new-york-review-of-
books-n-09-may-26-2022-various-authors/

Calculate with Confidence, 8e (Oct 26,

2021)_(0323696953)_(Elsevier) 8th Edition Morris Rn
Bsn Ma Lnc

https://ebookmass.com/product/calculate-with-
confidence-8e-oct-26-2021_0323696953_elsevier-8th-edition-morris-
rn-bsn-ma-lnc/

Gendered Identity and the Lost Female: Hybridity as a

Partial Experience in the Anglophone Caribbean
Performances Shrabani Basu

https://ebookmass.com/product/gendered-identity-and-the-lost-
female-hybridity-as-a-partial-experience-in-the-anglophone-
caribbean-performances-shrabani-basu/

Bird Migration: A New Understanding John H. Rappole

https://ebookmass.com/product/bird-migration-a-new-understanding-
john-h-rappole/

A Heat Transfer Textbook, 5th edition John H. Lienhard

https://ebookmass.com/product/a-heat-transfer-textbook-5th-
edition-john-h-lienhard/
Archiving Caribbean Identity

Archiving Caribbean Identity highlights the “Caribbeanization” of archives in

the region, considering what those archives could include in the future and
exploring the potential for new records in new formats.
Interpreting records in the broadest sense, the 15 chapters in this volume
explore a wide variety of records that represent new archival interpretations. The
book is split into two parts, with the frst part focusing on record forms that are
not generally considered “archival” in traditional Western practice. The second
part explores more “traditional” archival collections and demonstrates how these
collections are analysed and presented from the perspective of Caribbean peoples.
As a whole, the volume suggests how colonial records can be repurposed to surface
Caribbean narratives. Refecting on the unique challenges faced by developing
countries as they approach their archives, the volume considers how to identify
and archive records in the forms and formats that refect the postcolonial and
decolonized Caribbean, how to build an archive of the people that documents
contemporary society and refects Caribbean memory, and how to repurpose the
colonial archives so that they assist the Caribbean in reclaiming its history.
Archiving Caribbean Identity demonstrates how non-textual cultural traces
function as archival records and how folk-centred perspectives disrupt
conventional understandings of records. The book should thus be of interest
to academics and students engaged in the study of archives, memory, culture,
history, sociology, and the colonial and postcolonial experience.

John A. Aarons, now retired, was Executive Director of the National Library
of Jamaica (1992–2002), Government Archivist of Jamaica (2002–2008), and
University Archivist of the University of the West Indies (2009–2014).

Jeannette A. Bastian is Emerita Professor at Simmons University. She is

currently an Honorary Fellow in the Department of Library and Information
at the University of the West Indies.

Stanley H. Grifn is Deputy Dean, Undergraduate Matters (Humanities), and

Lecturer in Archival and Information Studies in the Faculty of Humanities and
Education, Department of Library and Information Studies, at the University
of the West Indies, Mona Jamaica.
Routledge Studies in Archives
Series Editor: James Lowry

The following list includes only the most-recent titles to publish within the
series. A list of the full catalogue of titles is available at: www.routledge.com/
Routledge-Studies-in-Archives/book-series/RSARCH

Archives, Recordkeeping and Social Justice

Edited by David A. Wallace, Wendy M. Duff, Renée Saucier,
and Andrew Flinn

Producing the Archival Body

Jamie A. Lee

Ghosts of Archive
Deconstructive Intersectionality and Praxis
Verne Harris

Urgent Archives
Enacting Liberatory Memory Work
Michelle Caswell

Archiving Caribbean Identity

Records, Community, and Memory
Edited by John A. Aarons, Jeannette A. Bastian, and Stanley H. Griffin

Exhibiting the Archive

Space, Encounter, and Experience
Peter Lester
Archiving Caribbean Identity

Records, Community, and Memory

Edited by John A. Aarons,

Jeannette A. Bastian, and
Stanley H. Griffin
First published 2022
by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa
business
© 2022 selection and editorial matter, John A. Aarons, Jeannette
A. Bastian, and Stanley H. Griffin; individual chapters, the
contributors
The right of John A. Aarons, Jeannette A. Bastian, and Stanley H.
Griffin to be identified as the authors of the editorial material,
and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted
in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted
or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic,
mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented,
including photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from
the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks
or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and
explanation without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British
Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book has been requested
ISBN: 978-0-367-61509-3 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-0-367-61511-6 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-10529-9 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003105299
Typeset in Bembo
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Contents

List of Figures vii

Routledge Studies in Archives viii
List of Contributors ix
Acknowledgements xv

Introduction 1
JOHN A. AARONS, JEANNETTE A. BASTIAN, AND STANLEY H. GRIFFIN

PART I
Tangible and Intangible Formats 15

1 Soca and Collective Memory: Savannah Grass as an

Archive of Carnival 17
KAI BARRATT

2 Jamaica Twitter as a Repository for Documenting

Memory and Social Resistance: Listening to the
“Articulate Minority” 30
NORMAN MALCOLM

3 Singing Our Caribbean Identity: Programming the

UWI, Mona Festival of the Nine Lessons With Carols 38
SHAWN R.A. WRIGHT

4 Archives “Cast in Stone”: Memorials as Memory 49

ELSIE E. AARONS

5 Landscape as Record: Archiving the Antigua

Recreation Ground 64
STEPHEN BUTTERS
vi Contents

6 Concert Dance in Barbados as Archive: Dancing the

National Narratives 79
JOHN HUNTE

7 Remembering an Art Exhibit: The Face of Jamaica, 1963–1964 97

MONIQUE BARNETT-DAVIDSON

8 Traditional and New Record Sources in

Geointerpretive Methods for Reconstructing
Biophysical History: Whither Withywood 108
THERA EDWARDS AND EDWARD ROBINSON

PART II
Collections Through a Caribbean Lens 129

9 Resistance in/and the Pre-Emancipation Archives 131

TONIA SUTHERLAND, LINDA STURTZ, AND PAULETTE KERR

10 Postcolonial Philately as Memory and History:

Stamping a New Identity for Trinidad and Tobago 150
DESARAY PIVOTT-NOLAN

11 Recasting Jamaican Sculptor Ronald Moody

(1900–1984): An Archival Homecoming 170
EGO AHAIWE SOWINSKI

12 St. Lucian Memory and Identity Through the Eyes

of John Robert Lee 183
ANTONIA CHARLEMAGNE-MARSHALL

13 Crop Over and Carnival in the Archives of Barbados

and Trinidad and Tobago 199
ALLISON O. RAMSAY

14 Ecclesiastical Records as Sources of Social History:

The Anglican Church of Trinidad and Tobago 213
JANELLE DUKE

15 Erasure and Retention in Jamaica’s Ofcial Memory:

The Case of the Disappearing Telegrams 227
JAMES ROBERTSON

Index 240
Figures

8.1 Location of Carlisle Bay. Old Parish of Vere shown as

grey-shaded area 109
8.2 Hard brick structure associated with remains of wharf/port
at Carlisle Bay. Left: as captured by terrestrial laser scan.
Right: as captured with a digital camera 111
8.3 Aerial photos acquired roughly a decade apart between
1941 and 1971 showing changes to Carlisle Bay coastline 113
8.4 Main sources of evidence used in reconstruction 114
8.5 Stratigraphy of maps, aerial photographs, and satellite imagery 115
8.6 1961 aerial photograph with boundary of Carlisle Estate
and course of the Rio Minho from plan done by Greene
in 1818 superimposed as a white line 116
8.7 1953 aerial photo showing submerged and emergent
structures of the port and fort 118
8.8 Left: Fort Augusta in 1961. Right: Fort and Port at Carlisle
Bay 1953 118
8.9 Section of a plan of Carlisle Estate prepared in 1879 showing
“Old Fort and Pusey Hall Estate Wharf ” 119
8.10 Google Earth images of Carlisle Bay 2003, 2013, and 2018 120
8.11 Historical shoreline recession at Carlisle Bay obtained from
measurements of distance of Old House relative to shoreline
on plans, aerial photographs, and satellite imagery 121
8.12 Changes in the meander of the Rio Minho – 2019 Sentinel
imagery, 1941 aerial photo, and 1879 plan 122
10.1 1990 – Birds of Trinidad and Tobago 156
10.2 1986 – Congratulations 60th birthday to your Majesty 158
10.3 1977 – Inauguration of a Republic 159
10.4 1975 – Dr Pawan 160
10.5 1985 – Decade for women 161
10.6 1976 – Carnival 162
10.7 The Parang 163
10.8 1994 – Steelpan Series II 163
10.9 1994 – Lord Kitchener 164
10.10 1973 – Anniversaries 165
Routledge Studies in Archives

Routledge Studies in Archives publishes new research in archival studies.

Recognizing the imperative for archival work in support of memory, identity
construction, social justice, accountability, legal rights, and historical under-
standing, the series extends the disciplinary boundaries of archival studies. The
works in this series illustrate how archival studies intersects with the concerns
and methods of, and is increasingly intellectually in conversation with, other
felds.
Bringing together scholarship from diverse academic and cultural traditions
and presenting the work of emerging and established scholars side by side, the
series promotes the exploration of the intellectual history of archival science,
the internationalization of archival discourse, and the building of new archival
theory. It sees the archival in personal, economic, and political activity; histori-
cally and digitally situated cultures; subcultures and movements; technical and
socio-technical systems; technological and infrastructural developments; and in
many other places.
Archival studies brings a historical perspective and unique expertise in
records creation, management and sustainability to questions, problems and
data challenges that lie at the heart of our knowledge about and ability to tackle
some of the most difcult dilemmas facing the world today, such as climate
change, mass migration, and disinformation. Routledge Studies in Archives is a
platform for this work.
Series Editor: James Lowry
Contributors

Elsie E. Aarons, a librarian, worked as Manager of Technical Information

Services of the Petroleum Corporation of Jamaica (1980–2000). She also
served as an adjunct lecturer in the Department of Library and Information
Studies at the University of the West Indies (UWI), Mona, Jamaica between
2001 and 2008, teaching the course Special Libraries and Information Man-
agement. Very involved in church activities, she worked for 15 years with the
Anglican Church, serving as the administrator at St. Andrew Parish Church
(2000–2005) and secretary/personal assistant to the Bishop of Kingston
(2005–2015). In retirement, she pursues her many interests, including gene-
alogy, for which she has developed an extensive family history. She holds
a BSc in geology and geography (1972), a postgraduate diploma in library
studies (1976), and an MA in theology (1997), all from the UWI, Mona.
John A. Aarons, an archivist and librarian, worked at the Jamaica Archives
as assistant archivist from 1972 to 1976 and as government archivist from
2002 to 2008. Between 1977 and 2002 he worked at the National Library
of Jamaica serving as the executive director from 1992 to 2002. He was
appointed university archivist at the University of the West Indies (UWI) in
2009 and served until his retirement in 2014, although he continued until
2018 as an adjunct lecturer in the Department of Library and Information
Studies at UWI, Mona, where he was involved in the development and
teaching of the archives and records management programme. In retirement,
he continues to research and write and serves as the Honorary Archivist of
the Anglican Church in Jamaica. He holds a BA (Hons.) in history, post-
graduate diplomas in both archives and librarianship, and an MA in heritage
studies.
Kai Barratt is a lecturer in the School of Humanities and Social Sciences at
the University of Technology, Jamaica. Her research focuses on the perfor-
mances of female soca artistes on and of the stage. Another aspect of her
research includes exploring social media platforms as a space for carnival
representations. She also looks at the extension of the Trinidad-style carnival
to other sites in the Caribbean. Some of her writings have been published in
x Contributors

peer-reviewed journals, and others are under review. She is currently work-
ing on projects related to the Trinidad Carnival as a transnational product
and the self-presentation strategies of soca artistes on social media.
Monique Barnett-Davidson, an interdisciplinary visual art professional, has
worked in various aspects of the visual arts in Jamaica, including art educa-
tion, exhibition programming and development, museum education, and
research. Currently the Senior Curator at the National Gallery of Jamaica,
as well as a part-time lecturer at the UWI, she presents on various topics on
Jamaican art movements and has contributed to publications, including the
books A-Z of Caribbean Art (2019) and De mi barrio a tu barrio: Street Art in
Mexico, Central America and the Caribbean (2012).
Jeannette A. Bastian is Professor Emerita at the School of Library and Infor-
mation Science, Simmons University, Boston, Massachusetts, where she
directed their Archives Management concentration from 1999 to 2019.
A former territorial librarian of the United States Virgin Islands, Jeannette
holds an MPhil from the UWI and a PhD from the University of Pitts-
burgh. She is currently an Honorary Fellow in the Department of Informa-
tion at the UWI. Her books include West Indian Literature: A Critical Index,
1930–1975 (Allis, 1982); Owning Memory: How a Caribbean Community Lost
Its Archives and Found Its History (2003); Community Archives: The Shaping
of Memory, ed. (2009); Archives in Libraries: What Librarians and Archivists
Need to Know to Work Together (2015); Decolonizing the Caribbean Record: An
Archives Reader, ed. with John A. Aarons and Stanley H. Grifn (2018); and
Community Archives: Community Spaces, ed. with Andrew Flinn (2020).
Stephen Butters is a recent graduate of the Archives and Records Man-
agement Master’s programme at the UWI, Mona. He was among the frst
cohort to have graduated from Mona in that discipline. He was born in
Guyana but now calls the island surrounded by 356 beaches – Antigua and
Barbuda – home. A lover of history, he pursued his bachelor of arts in
history at the University of Guyana. He worked for over 20 years at the
Antigua and Barbuda National Archives beginning as a binder and rising to
the post of archivist in 2017. He is now the investigations ofcer (ag) at the
Ofce of the Ombudsman where his primary role is assisting the Ombuds-
man in research.
Antonia Charlemagne-Marshall is a records management professional and
certifed archivist. She holds an MA in archives and records management
(distinction) and MSc in international management. She has also worked
with the records of the UWI, UNICEF, and the National University of
Samoa. In addition to the John Robert Lee Papers, she has also worked
on the Rubin S Davis Papers (digital preservation), Floyd Coleman Papers
(initial processing), and auditing of Latin American papers/collections at the
Smithsonian Institution’s Archives of American Art. She was awarded the
 Contributors xi

Society of American Archivist Harold T. Pinkett Minority Student Award

in 2019. Currently, she is embarking on the preservation of the Diocese of
Bridgetown (Roman Catholic) ecclesiastical records.
Janelle Duke has been a research ofcer at the National Archives of Trinidad
and Tobago since 2012. She earned her bachelor of arts in history and psy-
chology with international relations in 2009 from the UWI, St. Augustine.
She pursued a master of arts in history (2012), a certifcate in records man-
agement (2014), and later a master of arts in archives and records manage-
ment (2019) from the UWI, Mona, Jamaica. Janelle is currently pursuing an
MPhil/PhD in information Studies at the Mona Campus. She is involved in
numerous organizations including the Lions Club of Port of Spain North.
Her research areas include the Anglican Church in the Caribbean, Family
Genealogies, and the History and Records of the Sugar Industry in Trinidad
and Tobago.
Thera Edwards is Map Curator and Lecturer in the Department of Geog-
raphy and Geology at the UWI, Mona Campus in Jamaica. Her interdis-
ciplinary research includes landscape change and history, geomorphology,
climate change responses, vegetation ecology, and archaeology. Historical
maps, aerial photographs, satellite imagery, and geographical information
systems (GIS) are key components of her research and analyses. In the past
20 years, her work has focused on environmental management and sustain-
able development with particular emphasis on biodiversity, forestry, water-
sheds, agriculture, and protected areas management. Thera has written and
co-authored technical reports and papers for several development agencies
as well as for presentation at conferences and symposia. In 2016, she co-
edited the volume Global Change and the Caribbean: Adaptation and Resilience
along with David Barker, Duncan McGregor, and Kevon Rhiney.
Stanley H. Grifn is Deputy Dean, Undergraduate Matters (Humanities),
and Lecturer in Archival and Information Studies in the Faculty of Humani-
ties and Education, Department of Library and Information Studies, at the
UWI, Mona Jamaica Campus. Stanley holds a BA (Hons.) in history, a PhD
in cultural studies (with High Commendation), from the Cave Hill Barbados
Campus of the UWI, and an MSc in Archives and Records Management
(Int’l), University of Dundee, Scotland. Stanley’s research interests include
multiculturalism in Antigua and the Eastern Caribbean, the cultural dynam-
ics of intra-Caribbean migrations, archives in the constructs of Caribbean
culture, and community archives in the Caribbean. His most recent publica-
tions include Decolonizing the Caribbean Record: An Archives Reader (2018), a
co-edited work with Jeannette A. Bastian and John A. Aarons; several book
chapters; and journal articles on Caribbean archival and cultural issues.
John Hunte is a practitioner, producer, cultural studies activist, and teacher in
creative and cultural studies. He is armed with a diploma in dance theatre
xii Contributors

and production from the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Perform-
ing Arts in Jamaica, a BS in Dance from the State University of New York
– College at Brockport, an MFA in performing arts management from
Brooklyn College, New York City, in 2003, and a PhD degree in cultural
studies from the Faculty of Humanities and Education at the Cave Hill,
Barbados Campus of the UWI in 2014. His PhD thesis, Beyond the Silence:
Men, Dance and Masculinity in the Caribbean, interrogates where dance and
masculinity intersect for men who dance onstage. Among several things,
Hunte is executive director with Barbados Dance Project, a pre-professional
programme for budding dancers, and artistic director/principal with the
Barbados Dance Theatre Company Inc.
Paulette Kerr is campus librarian at the UWI, Mona, a position she has held
since 2015. Prior to this she was Head of the Department of Library and
Information Studies, UWI, Mona. She holds a PhD in library and informa-
tion science from the School of Communication and Information at Rut-
gers University and an MA in history from the UWI. Her research areas
coalesce around aspects of Jamaican social history, Library and Informa-
tion Studies (LIS), and in particular information literacy, LIS education,
and teaching learning in academic libraries. Her publications in these areas
include book chapters, edited works, peer-reviewed journal articles, and
conference proceedings.
Norman Malcolm is a senior secondary school teacher of history with degrees
in history education and heritage studies and is currently an MPhil/PhD
candidate in the Department of Library and Information Studies (DLIS)
at the UWI, Mona. He has taught history at a secondary school in King-
ston, Jamaica. Additionally, Malcolm serves as Adjunct Assistant Lecturer
in Information Studies in the DLIS, lecturing in research methodologies.
His research interests lie at the intersection of information studies, cultural
heritage, and history education. His MPhil/PhD research aims to investi-
gate Caribbean social media usage and its role in documenting memory,
perpetuating social resistance, and enabling individual and collective agency.
Desaray Pivott-Nolan hails from the twin island Republic of Trinidad and
Tobago. Desaray, a graduate of the UWI, Mona, and holder of a bachelor’s
degree in LIS, as well as a master’s degree in archives and records manage-
ment. With a library professional career of over 15 years, she is a proud
information specialist with a passion for continued learning.
Allison O. Ramsay is Lecturer in Cultural/Heritage Studies in the Depart-
ment of History at the UWI, St. Augustine. She holds a BA in history with
frst class honours from the UWI, Cave Hill, an MA in history from the
University of the South Pacifc, and a PhD in cultural studies from the UWI,
Cave Hill. Her research interests include fraternal organizations, museums,
festivals, landships in Barbados, Caribbean heritage, and Caribbean history.
 Contributors xiii

Her recent publications include “Jamettes, Mas, and Bacchanal: A Cul-

ture of Resistance in Trinidad and Tobago,” The Routledge Companion to
Black Women’s Cultural Histories: Across the Diaspora, from Ancient Times to
the Present; “Mapping a Musical Journey of Soca in the Crop Over Festival
of Barbados,” Regional Discourses on Society and History Shaping the Carib-
bean; “First-Day Covers: A Visual Archive of Caribbean History and Herit-
age,” Journal of Caribbean History 53.1.
James Robertson, a Londoner, is Professor of History in the Department
of History and Archaeology at the UWI, Mona, where he has taught since
1995, and since 2003 has sat on the National Archives Advisory Commit-
tee as the Jamaica Historical Society’s representative. He is a past-president
of both the Archaeological Society of Jamaica and the Jamaica Historical
Society. His “Gone Is the Ancient Glory!”: Spanish Town 1534–2000, was
published by Ian Randle in 2005. History Without Historians: Listening for Sto-
ries of Jamaica’s Past is in press from Arawak Press, Kingston. He is currently
working on a book on Oliver Cromwell’s Western Design and the resulting
mid-seventeenth-century English conquest and settlement of Jamaica.
Edward (Ted) Robinson is Professor Emeritus in Geology in the Depart-
ment of Geography and Geology at the UWI, Mona, where he worked from
the inception of the then geology department in 1961 until his retirement
in 2012. He is an author on more than 160 professional publications and
still maintains continued involvement in research with academic colleagues.
His interests include the geology of the Caribbean region, interpretation
of aerial photos and satellite imagery, hazards of the Jamaican coastline, and
fossil Foraminifera of the Caribbean and Florida.
Tonia Sutherland is Assistant Professor in the Library and Information Sci-
ence Program at the University of Hawaiʻi (UH) at Mānoa, where she
leads the Archives Pathway. Sutherland, a memory worker, is particularly
interested in critical and liberatory work in the feld of archival studies. At
UH, she teaches and conducts research in cultural heritage preservation and
management (intangible, material, and digital), community engagement,
and the unique archival challenges that face island communities worldwide.
Sutherland is also the author of Digital Remains: Race and the Digital Afterlife
(University of California Press, anticipated Fall 2023).
Ego Ahaiwe Sowinski is an archivist and mixed media artist/designer, cur-
rently pursuing a collaborative PhD at Chelsea College of Arts (UAL/
Tate Britain). Her doctoral research places much-needed critical attention
on Jamaican-born sculptor Ronald Moody and his niece Cynthia Moody.
She holds an MA in archives and record management, international (UCL).
She is a member of the Afrofeminist Transatlantic Collaboration, which
maps and archives the cultural resistance of Black feminist artists in the
United Kingdom and the Twins Cities. Most recently she co-edited Mirror
xiv Contributors

Refecting Darkly: The Rita Keegan Archive (Goldsmiths Press, 2021). She is
particularly interested in developing frameworks for interrogating what it
means to advocate and/or archive diasporic archives in the twenty-frst cen-
tury collaboratively, sharing skills and building capacity within the heritage
and memory work sector.
Linda Sturtz is Professor of History at Macalester College in Minnesota. Her
publications include a book, Within Her Power: Propertied Women in Colonial
Virginia, and articles on community-based performances in the Caribbean.
Her most recent articles are “Beyond the Nation Dance: Collective Mem-
ory as Archive in Olaudah Equiano’s Kingston, Jamaica” in American Cul-
tures as Transnational Performance: Traces, Bodies, Commons, Skills in Katrin
Horn, et al. (Routledge, 2021) and “Putting People in Songs: Music, His-
tory Making and the Archives,” Jamaica Journal 38 (April/May 2021). She
is currently working on the African-Jamaican “Sett Girls” performances,
historical soundscapes, and the relationship between public memory and the
archive. She divides her time between Saint Paul, Minnesota, and Kingston,
Jamaica.
Shawn R.A. Wright is the composer/arranger and musical director of the
University Chorale of the West Indies, Mona Campus; a graduate of the
UWI, Mona; and a Caribbean history educator at the secondary level. His
6 years of working with the late Noel Dexter and the secretariat of UWI,
Mona, have infuenced his research interest into Caribbean/Jamaica choral
music history and concert history which, today, stands as an underdeveloped
area of Caribbean cultural historiography. His aim is to bring attention to
this area of study through research and publication of not just academic
work but choral compositions that identify with a Caribbean choral sound
and practice.
Acknowledgements

A collection of chapters by its very nature requires cooperation and collabora-

tion. This book would not have been possible without the endorsement of the
Department of Library and Information Studies (DLIS) at the University of
the West Indies, Mona, Jamaica, who, in 2019, agreed to convene the confer-
ence, “Unlocking Caribbean Memory, Uncovering New Records: Discover-
ing New Archives,” that inspired this collection. We are particularly grateful
to the Head of the Department at that time, Dr Paulette Stewart, for her
encouragement and guidance as well as to key members of the DLIS faculty,
Dr Rosemarie Heath and Dr Ruth Baker-Gardner, and the entire DLIS staf
whose assistance at the conference was invaluable.
We also greatly appreciate the willingness of our 18 authors, not only for
converting their conference presentations into chapters but for working with
us through a process made all the more difcult by a worldwide pandemic.
And as always, we thank our families, in particular Elsie E. Aarons and Calvin
F. Bastian, for their constant and invaluable support.
Introduction
John A. Aarons, Jeannette A. Bastian, and
Stanley H. Griffin

As the nations and territories of the Caribbean reclaim their cultures and iden-
tities after centuries of colonial domination, archives and records are generally
not in the mix. This may be because of the strong connections between archi-
val records and the colonial enterprise. But it also may be because coloniz-
ers brought their textual record-keeping practices with them, imposing them
upon peoples who had already developed their own archiving traditions albeit
more orally based than textual. As the colonizers devalued the bodies of the
indigenous inhabitants, the enslaved and the indentured, they also depreciated
their cultural expressions and record-keeping traditions. European colonizers
imposed their own record-keeping practices upon populations that had for-
merly fourished with diferent traditions. Caribbean archivist Stanley H. Grif-
fn tracing the Jamaican National Archives from its early colonial beginnings
to the present day concludes that “the memory contained within the Jamaica
Archives is still framed by colonial thought, racist ideologies, and Eurocentric
memory practices” (Grifn & Timcke, 2021, p. 3).
This volume of 15 chapters, originally presentations at a 2019 conference at
the University of the West Indies (UWI), continues the editors’ eforts, initi-
ated in Decolonizing the Caribbean Record: An Archives Reader, to move Carib-
bean archives away from these colonial beginnings and towards a defnition that
refects the dynamic cultural life and lived experience of the region. Although
these chapters focus primarily on the English-speaking Caribbean, postcolonial
and decolonial concerns about archival representations touch the entire region.
For archives and records in the Caribbean are no longer just those textual
records of the colonial masters but rather the oral, performative, intangible, and
tangible products of Caribbean peoples.

Origins
In October 2019, the Department of Library and Information Studies at the
University of the West Indies, Mona, Jamaica, held its frst Symposium on
Archives and Records. Titled “Unlocking Caribbean Memory, Uncovering

DOI: 10.4324/9781003105299-1
2 Introduction

New Records: Discovering New Archives,” the focus was twofold. The frst
was to celebrate the graduation of the frst cohort of students from the new
Master of Arts in Archives and Records Management Programme, which
began ofcially in the department in 2015. The second was to highlight and
reimagine the “Caribbeanization” of archives in the region and explore the
potentials for new records in new formats.
The symposium organizers recognized that refecting both the heritage and
the dynamic cultures of the Caribbean was essential if archives were to have
relevance within the region. They encouraged participants to “unlock” their
perceptions of what constitutes a record, rethink, and redefne enduring values
and actively seek those materials that represented the widest possible social
and cultural diversity. This included not only ever-evolving tangible formats
(audiovisual, digital) but intangible ones as well – oral, perfomative, musical,
artefactual.
The legacies of colonialism and colonial record-creating and -keeping have
presented archival challenges for formerly colonized countries and territories,
nowhere more so than in the Caribbean region. The identifcation of record-
keeping with political control and domination is one legacy that might help
explain the paucity of ofcial archival records of the post-independence era in
many national archival institutions in the region. However, even if these ofcial
records survive, they are often only replicas of the types of records of the colo-
nial era and not fully representative of the lives and memories of the newly lib-
erated Caribbean peoples. Implicit in this is the realization that for developing
countries, such as those in the Caribbean, reliance cannot be entirely placed
on the record forms produced and archived in the countries of the colonizers.
The challenges are multifold: how to identify and archive records in the forms
and formats that refect the postcolonial and decolonized Caribbean; how to
build an archive of the people, one that documents contemporary Caribbean
society and refects Caribbean memory; and how to repurpose the colonial
archives so that they assist in an interpretation of the past from the viewpoint
of the colonized.

Defining the Caribbean Archive

Since colonial records are primarily the documentary legacy of colonial con-
quest, hegemony, and wealth extraction, what constitutes the archival records
of the pre-colonial and postcolonial Caribbean? The answer lies in the infor-
mation and communication practices of the peoples whom Europeans found in
the Caribbean and those who were brought to the region at the bidding of these
colonizers. Writing was not the primary form for creating and documenting
memory used by non-Europeans. In their examination of the destructive forces
of colonialism in postcolonial societies, literary theorists Bill Ashcroft, Gareth
Grifths, and Helen Tifn suggest,
 Introduction 3

In many post-colonial societies, it was not the English language which had
the greatest efect, but writing itself. In this respect, although oral culture
is by no means the universal model of post-colonial societies, the invasion
of the ordered, cyclic, and “paradigmatic” oral world by the unpredictable
and “syntagmatic” world of the written world stands as a useful model for
the beginnings of post-colonial discourse.
(Ashcroft et al., 2002, p. 81)

Accordingly, the Caribbean archival record can be found in non-written forms,

in expressions thought of only as cultural – that is, exhibits of ways of life – yet
imbued with informational content, historical evidence and context, and soci-
ocultural structures that are fxed in meanings and expectations of form. For
example, a calypso has distinct instrumentation, sounds, and rhythms which are
expected to be considered part of the genre, even though the lyrics difer and
convey situational meanings.
The successive waves of peoples who came to the Caribbean have shaped the
ways in which Caribbean people document, preserve, and share their endur-
ing memory in the very same ways that their identities have been crafted and
expressed. After all, their memories shape their identities. Cultural theorist Sha-
lini Puri ofers a perspective that seeks to account for the contributory presence
of all identities in the Caribbean. She contends that Caribbean cultural identi-
ties are hybrids of the cultural experiences/expressions of all persons within
the region, writing that “[t]he Caribbean has some of the earliest and richest
elaborations of cultural hybridity. . . . The Caribbean has had to negotiate its
identities in relation to Native America; to Africa and Asia, from where most
of its surviving inhabitants came; to Europe, from where its colonizing settlers
came; and to the United States of America, its imperial neighbor” (Puri, 2004,
p. 2). These Caribbean cultural identities are not mere imitations of former
ancestral customs or pure replications of traditional habits. Instead, Puri main-
tains, the identities that emerged in the Caribbean “elaborate a syncretic New
World identity, distinct from that of its ‘Mother Cultures’; in so doing, they
provide a basis for national and regional legitimacy” (Puri, p. 45). Undoubtedly
these infuences can be seen in the documentary and memory practices found
in the Caribbean, yet syncretic forms and practices have emerged that are dis-
tinct from other inherited memory expressions. Hence, Caribbean records can
be described as diverse, dynamic, and delicate.
The Caribbean’s diversity of records is rooted in its contextual history with
its pre-Columbian genesis. The indigenous civilizations that lived throughout
the western hemisphere created records. Caribbean historians acknowledge that
the various indigenous communities left evidences and traces of their existence
throughout the islands and territories they inhabited. Historian Karl Watson
observes, “The Amerindians occupied [the region] for some forty generations
prior to the arrival of Christopher Columbus. During this period of time, their
4 Introduction

societies produced a vibrant material culture as the archaeological evidence

attests” (Watson, n.d., p. 2). These materials, on rock and cave etchings, have
given us glimpses into the complex civilizations that Columbus encountered
and decimated. Their material cultures and legacies are multilayered and mul-
tidimensional and continue to infuence contemporary Caribbean life. Watson
afrms that, even though the formal indigenous societies Columbus met are
now long gone,

their presence lives on among us, either through some genetic inheritance,
as can be seen among the population of the Dominican Republic, or in
the features of individuals from Guadeloupe or St Lucia, in our language
and cuisine, or from the large quantity of artifacts strewn across our islands.
Field walking or even garden forking can produce Amerindian artefacts on
every Caribbean island.
(Watson, p. 2)

The challenge then is not a lack of evidence of material culture but a failure to
recognize the information and enduring values these materials convey.
The various mindsets, languages, expressions, memory forms, and prac-
tices that came across the Atlantic were also part of the “cultural equipage”
that travelled with the peoples who were enslaved, indentured, or otherwise
encumbered on the plantations of the region (Nettleford, 2003, p. 2). This
diversity continues to adapt and conform to the socio-political and techno-
logical advances made and expected of twenty-frst-century living. Thus, from
territorial home languages and dress styles to digital art works, these mem-
ory materials bear Caribbean aesthetics which are imbued with informational
detail, situational context, and cultural structure that are individually unique
yet are interrelated to the entire region in ways that a record item fnds rela-
tional meaning with its creator-fonds.
Caribbean records are dynamic. Cultural theorist Antonio Benítez-Rojo’s
description of Caribbean identities as products of the eruptions of the dynam-
ics of the plantation – the crucible cradle of Caribbean society – could easily
defne Caribbean records. The Caribbean, he writes,

is the product of the plantation . . . whose slow explosion throughout

modern history threw out billions and billions of cultural fragments in all
directions – fragments of diverse kinds that, in their endless voyage, come
together in an instant to form a dance step, a linguistic trope, the line of a
poem, and afterward repel each other to re/form and pull apart once more,
and so on.
(Benitez-Rojo, 1990, p. 55)

Our buildings, cuisine, dances, fashion, landscapes, rhythms, songs, stories, and
even tweets are as creative and vivacious as their antecedent forms. Culturalist
 Introduction 5

Rex Nettleford, in his refection on Jamaican dance, afrms that our contem-
porary cultural expressions are evolving articulations of previous generations
of expressions yet bearing strong infuences of its past. Dance, he writes, “has
given to the cultural heritage of Jamaica such enduring life sources as kumina,
pukkumina (popularly known as pocomania), etu, tambu, gerreh, dinkimini,
Zion revivalism, and Rastafarianism,” which can be seen and experienced in
the movements of religious worship and the popular cultural phenomenon,
dancehall (Nettleford, 1993, p. 99).
This dynamism marvels the visiting tourist and is a source of pride to the
citizen, both at home and abroad. Yet, somehow, the enduring informational
values of these expressions have generally escaped the policy defnitions of
regional archives simply because they do not subscribe to the rigid strictures of
format and static fxity. These expressions are living, changing in informational
content, yet bearing particular strands of structure that binds them to their
creative communities.
Focusing on the written word as the only possible mode for creating the
archival record has reduced the potential of society and memory institutions to
value and preserve the narratives and representations of its constituents. Debo-
rah Bird Rose, in her chapters on Aboriginal Australian epistemology, similarly
explains the conundrum Caribbean societies confront in coming to terms with
archival memory and colonial documentary heritage. Rose writes, “There is
no place without a history, there is no place that has not been imaginatively
grasped through song, dance, and design, no place where traditional owners
cannot see the imprint of sacred creation” (Rose, 1996, p. 18). Caribbean
landscapes were disturbed for the purposes of creating and governing planta-
tion societies. Yet those who laboured on the land formed informational and
cultural connections to the environment in ways Rose describes.
Both colonials and subjugates shaped the landscapes and built environments
by their histories, narratives, and meanings. Spaces of colonial grandeur are
countered and re/presented as places of resistance and triumph to colonial
oppression by song, dance, and design. A recreational ground in a small island
community such as St. John’s, Antigua, for example, shares similar meanings
with the large mass of greenspace in the heart of Port of Spain, Trinidad, in the
ways in which these landscapes are memorialized and performed. Accordingly,
these felds, like paper records, which were designed to spatially divide and
rule, are re/presented in song, dance, and design and imbued with meanings
and memories of performances.
Since Caribbean records are embedded in the performative culture, Carib-
bean memory workers and cultural practitioners must devise new strategies and
protocols to ensure that imaginative narratives are celebrated as archival repre-
sentations of their history and identities. For, as Jeannette A. Bastian explains,

[a]s an aggregate . . . each element, each record, or record grouping . . .

contributes to a coherent cultural whole – an archive that is both historical
6 Introduction

and at the same time dynamic, one that contains, enacts, and continually
reinvents its own cultural existence.
(Bastian, 2018, p. 506)

Finally, Caribbean records are delicate. While these performative materials

are central to the living creativity and memory of their communities, they
are precarious because they were not conceived to be fxed long-standing
articulations of information and culture in the conventional ways records and
archives are defned. Although, in their own way they can be seen as those
persistent representations that defne traditional Western records. Caribbean
records are living, breathing, performative materials and are dependent on
continued performance for survival. These performances are crucial to the
continued evolution of cultural identity. For, as cultural theorist Stuart Hall
maintains,

[i]dentities are about questions of using the resources of history, language, and
culture in the process of becoming rather than being: not “who we are” or
“where we came from”, so much as what we might become, how we have
been represented and how that bears on how we might represent ourselves.
(Hall, 1996, p. 4)

Thus, the fragility of Caribbean records is fourfold: these expressions are liv-
ing materials and are dependent on communal performance. These assets can-
not be preserved in conventional ways. Finally, regional institutions lack the
confdence and infrastructure to adequately preserve non-paper-based mate-
rials. How can Caribbean records meet conventional preservation standards
when the assets cannot be placed in boxes and shelves in sterile temperature-
controlled strong rooms?
If the starting point for archiving Caribbean identity and memory is vali-
dating its content and enduring values, the next step is to ensure that delib-
erate eforts are taken to create enabling environments for their long-term
practice and protection. Preservation ought to be reframed as a communal
activity rather than an institutional responsibility. Supporting community
practices as preservation initiatives certainly unites both institution and com-
munity in purpose and value. This unity in commitment is complementary
as the institution – invariably the sole government archives with its specifc
mandate to focus on the records and archives produced by the state – can sup-
port the activism of community documentation initiatives. Both need each
other to efectively capture, arrange and describe, preserve and make available
the mutually related records of enduring value. Networking with community
interests and cultural practitioner groups becomes a critical component of
archival services since the institution is dependent on the community eforts
in order to efectively form an archival ecosystem that represents all sectors and
includes all formats.
 Introduction 7

There are community groups doing the work of “community archives” in

the Caribbean that ofer examples of models of engagement between institution
and community even if they may not claim to be archives or even meet archival
disciplinary expectations. The “Dancehall Archives and Research Initiative”
in Jamaica and the “Caribbean Yard Campus,” which is a regional memory
project out of Trinidad, are fne examples of such movements. The former is
founded by a university academic “committed to the preservation and spread of
knowledge about dancehall culture.”1 The latter is “an educational enterprise
that is designed to network traditional knowledge systems in the Caribbean.”2
The Dancehall Archive ofers materials and activities that are not represented
in the government archival holdings and is totally independent of the Jamaica
Archives and Records Department. The Yard Campus is an informal gather-
ing of enthusiasts and professionals. The National Archives of Trinidad and
Tobago is listed as a collaborator and participates as a reference point for archi-
val professional practice and principles. Both community projects have the
potential to ofer diferent materials and contexts to their particular national
institutions.
However, there is also a third possibility, the example of the Saint Lucia
National Archives Authority, which ofers a diferent approach. Archivist
Margot Thomas has so imbedded outreach within the services of the national
archives that the record-diversity found within that institution is not typical of
regional archives. Thomas writes,

The approach to archiving at the National Archives Authority of Saint

Lucia is unique. The National Archives is a community-oriented institu-
tion which seeks to enable every Saint Lucian to make use of its holdings,
to see himself or herself as part of the on-going history of the country and
to de-mystify the word archive.
(Thomas, 2018, p. 361)

The Saint Lucian archive illustrates the possibilities for infusing living records
within its given traditional infrastructure to preserve the documentary heritage
of its peoples. Recognizing and including the various knowledge systems and
expressions of the Caribbean citizenry require both institution and community
to work in tandem. Failing this, the colonial principle of divide and rule will
persist in record forms.
Therefore, archiving Caribbean identity and memory goes beyond acknowl-
edgement of “new” sources of knowledge and decolonizing conventional
thought and practices. To archive Caribbean memory a reframing of archival
infrastructures and mandates is required. Rather than the archive being the
standalone “house of memory,” the Caribbean archive should be part of this
living cultural ecosystem that receives and releases life-giving knowledge ener-
gies to the identities and memory of all its constituents. Rose, in describing
Aboriginal communities’ perspectives on the relationship to their landscapes,
8 Introduction

which she called country and life, essentially captures the purpose of this text.
She writes,

Life is meaningful, and much human activity – art, music, dance, philoso-
phy, religion, ritual and daily activity – is about celebrating and promoting
life. Country is the key, the matrix, the essential heart of life. It follows that
much Aboriginal art, music, dance, philosophy, religion, ritual and daily
activity has country as its focus or basis. Not only is life valued, but the
systemic quality of life is valued too. Within this holistic system of knowl-
edge, each living thing is a participant in living systems. Celebration of life
is a celebration of the interconnections of life in a particular place which
also includes the humans who celebrate.
(Rose, 1996, p. 11)

The Caribbean archive is in the life of its people and needs to be appreciated
as such.

Constructing a Caribbean Archival Aesthetic

The 15 chapters in this book, drawn from almost 30 presentations at the
symposium, address the questions and challenges of documenting Caribbean
memory through a wide variety of formats – textual, material, tangible, and
intangible – as well as a wide variety of perspectives on what might be con-
sidered as an archive. Since the authors come from a spectrum of academic
disciplines and cultural practices in the English-speaking Caribbean, percep-
tions of what an archive could be are highly dependent on the authors’ own
intellectual spheres and areas of knowledge. Thus, for example, a cultural her-
itage theorist sees meaning and social documentation through popular music,
while a choir director fnds a nation and its history through evolving liturgy.
A geographer claims the landscape as a constantly documenting change agent,
while an archivist explores the landscape as a multilayered record and a dance
director traces conficting postcolonial attitudes through the development of
national dance companies.
Importantly, four of the chapters are by recent graduates of the newly estab-
lished University of the West Indies archival studies programme in its Depart-
ment of Library and Information Studies. As these authors discuss the archival
value of postage stamps, the landscape of the Antiguan Recreational Ground,
the value of ecclesiastical records, and the ways in which the collection of a
private individual refects the memory of a nation, it seems clear that innovative
thinking by a new generation of Caribbean archivists is paving the way for new
archival perspectives.
Dividing the 15 chapters into two parts, “Tangible and Intangible For-
mats” and “Collections Through a Caribbean Lens,” enabled an exploration of
archival records that excludes no formats and parallels the textual/traditional
 Introduction 9

along with the non-textual and non-traditional, thereby presenting Caribbean

records as “diverse, dynamic and delicate” while addressing the complex cul-
tural, evidential, and informational values of a wide spectrum of expressions
and materials.
In the twenty-frst century, defnitions of records, fuelled, at least partially by
digital afordances, social justice imperatives, and community exigencies, are
moving beyond the traditional “textual” and “fxed,” focusing on contextual
and inherent values rather than external formats. British archivist Geofrey Yeo
defnes a record as a “persistent representation,” explaining that

[i]t is a persistent representation because it has the capacity to remain

available after the ending of the activity or event that it represents. . . . .
Records may not last forever, but they outlive the immediate circumstances
in which they were created.
(Yeo, 2020, p. x)

Australian records manager Chris Colwell writes, “Site-specifc cultural-

discursive, material-economic and socio-political arrangements . . . actively
shape records. . . . Records are products of social practices” (Colwell, 2020,
p. ix). These contemporary defnitions, combined with the defnition of
Caribbean records presented earlier in this Introduction, ofer ample space for
the intangible and tangible formats considered in these chapters, giving long-
needed consideration to the many and varied ways that communities express
themselves, their histories, and their identities.
As these “new” characterizations of records open the archives to alternate
forms and expressions, they also suggest new approaches for existing colo-
nial and postcolonial collections, approaches that place these collections within
contexts that both open up the voices of the marginalized and support the
trajectories of the newly independent nation states. Thus, a collection of post-
age stamps also tells a popular history of a nation, a sculptor’s papers reveal
a national artist, and colonial records bring to light both the presences and
absences of Black women in Caribbean historiography.
In interpreting records and documentation broadly, the chapters therefore
cover a wide range of cultural issues from church liturgy to memorials, to folk
literature, to social media, and to even cricket. The perspectives demonstrate
the multiple and diverse eforts by Caribbean peoples to redefne and “Car-
ibbeanize” their society in all its aspects. It is notable that while the chapters
provide a wide range of perspectives, the chapters are also united by common-
alities. The shadowy presence of colonial history links the chapters through
the common desire of the authors to both renounce colonialism and replace it
with a new way – as true of records and archives as for other aspects of Carib-
bean life. And this search for a new way forward is coupled both with pride in
regional progress and a deep sense of identity with these island nations and the
wider Caribbean of which they are an integral part.
10 Introduction

The Chapters

Part I Tangible and Intangible Formats

The Caribbean is renowned for its music, whether traditional folk songs – born
out of the experiences of slavery and oppression – reggae, soca, or calypso. Two
chapters in this part deal with the archival qualities of various genres of music
within a Caribbean context. In “Soca and Collective Memory: Savannah Grass
as an Archive of Carnival,” Kai Barratt, considers a popular 2019 Carnival song
as a case study for examining soca (a musical genre invented in Trinidad defned
as “calypso with soul”) as a repository for the collective memories of place,
people, and emotions, which characterize carnival in Trinidad and Tobago.
Barrett analyses “Savannah Grass” as an archive of the carnival experience, a
perspective that is reinforced not only by social media but also by the musicians
themselves in a YouTube video that includes historical images of past Carnival
celebrations in the Port of Spain Savannah.
Performance as an embodied archive is also demonstrated in “Singing Our
Caribbean Identity: Programming the UWI, Mona Festival of the Nine Les-
sons With Carols,” by Shawn R.A. Wright who, through a variety of “records”
that include programme notes and music scores in addition to choir perfor-
mances, demonstrates how this annual Christmas Service has been “Caribbe-
anized” over the years as selections have moved from traditional British carols
to those of a more Caribbean nature and favour. Through this evolution, a
new Christmas music tradition developed as part of the creation of a regional
identity. Similarly, dance, also an embodied performance, can also be a celebra-
tion and a tool of liberation. As an archive it is a repository of history as well as
an expression of cultural memory. In “Concert Dance in Barbados as Archive:
Dancing the National Narratives,” John Hunte traces the continued contesta-
tion between Afro-centric and Euro-centric ideologies and methodologies in a
space that privileges the latter in post-independence Barbados and as expressed
through dance.
In this frst quarter of the twenty-frst century, Twitter has emerged as a
preferred form of social media. The archival qualities of Twitter are examined
by Norman Malcolm in “Jamaican Twitter as a Repository for Documenting
Memory and Social Resistance: Listening to the ‘Articulate Minority’,” who not
only discusses its particular relevance to Jamaican society but sees Jamaican Twit-
ter as a means of documenting those events, activities, personalities, and views
often neither represented in traditional media nor archived in traditional records.
Using examples to discuss this popular format and its counter-memory, Mal-
colm assesses Twitter as a new type of repository for Jamaica’s national memory.
At the opposite end of the documenting scale, stone is one of the old-
est methods of recording information but, in a world governed by text, not
traditionally considered archival. In “Archives ‘Cast in Stone’: Memorials as
Memory,” Elsie E. Aarons explores stone memorials as a recording format.
 Introduction 11

As she writes, “information of value can often be found ‘etched in stone’ on

murals, gravestones, statues, monuments, plaques, etc.,” noting that both the
documenting and memory value of memorials have been heightened by cur-
rent controversies.
As suggested earlier in this Introduction, cultural memory can be preserved
not only in events and activities but in broader forms such as in landscapes. In
“Landscape as Record: Archiving the Antigua Recreation Ground,” Stephen
Butters considers the ways in which this landscape, renowned as a cricket
ground and venue for cultural events, also functions as a repository for multi-
level records, from colonialism to independence, and thus has become a signif-
cant memory archive for the nation. Landscape as an archive is examined from a
diferent perspective by Thera Edwards and Edward Robinson. In “Traditional
and New Record Sources in Geointerpretive Methods for Reconstructing
Biophysical History: Whither Withywood,” they investigate the reconstruction
of a historical site in an area known as Wither Wood or Withywood in the par-
ish of Clarendon on the south coast of Jamaica. Utilizing a range of geographi-
cal and recording tools – aerial and underwater photography, satellite imagery,
terrestrial laser scanning, sonar, and global positioning system (GPS) – they
demonstrate that the ever-changing landscape also yields a historical record.
In the fnal chapter in this part, Monique Barnett-Davidson, in “Remem-
bering an Art Exhibit: The Face of Jamaica, 1963–1964,” explores a retrospective
exhibition presented via an online platform in 2012 of a Jamaican art exhibi-
tion called the Face of Jamaica, which toured cities in West Germany and Eng-
land between 1963 and 1964. Never before shown in Jamaica, this recovered
and reconstructed exhibit, and its supporting documentation, has itself become
an archive and a cultural record.

Part II. Collections Through a Caribbean Lens

The chapters in this part interrogate existing collections from a Caribbean
viewpoint, drawing on collections both in the region and elsewhere. The lead
chapter, “Resistance in/and the Pre-Emancipation Archives,” by Tonia Suther-
land, Linda Sturtz, and Paulette Kerr examines resistance by enslaved Black
women as documented in pre-emancipation era archives. Exploring the lives
of three women, Nanny of the Maroons, Mary Reid from Jamaica, and La
Mulâtresse Solitude, from Guadalupe through the scant evidence in legal histo-
ries, private and administrative correspondence, and oral testimony in order to
uncover their resistance (counter) narratives exemplifes the frustration and the
challenge of recovering the marginalized through colonial records.
Private personal collections have long been regarded as having important
and often unique archival values. The two chapters in this section dealing with
collections of individuals have particular signifcance in formulating a bet-
ter understanding of the career of a prominent artist and the cultural life of
the island nation of St. Lucia. Ego Ahaiwe Sowinski, in “Recasting Jamaican
12 Introduction

Sculptor Ronald Moody (1900–1984): An Archival Homecoming,” contex-

tualizes sculptor and philosopher Ronald Clive Moody as an international
networked fgure and artistic practitioner chiefy through the examination of
his artworks, exhibition history, and personal papers. Particularly intriguing are
the ways in which an interrogation of his archival papers in the Tate Gallery
helped in documenting his works and coming to a fuller understanding of his
career and his relationship to his native Jamaica. Similarly, the archival collec-
tions of Caribbean writers and artists also provide windows into the Caribbean
experience. A good example of this is Antonia Charlemagne-Marshall’s chap-
ter, “St. Lucian Memory and Identity Through the Eyes of John Robert Lee.”
These “eyes” are not only his own creative works but materials he accumulated
in his various capacities as librarian, information ofcer, cultural ofcer, and
member of the Nobel Laureate Week Organizing Committee. This collection
has an added value in that it has remained in St. Lucia, and just as a people
can be “of ” a place, archives can also be of a place. In this case, the place is the
author’s homeland, St. Lucia, which gives the collection an added signifcance
as it can be accessed by researchers in the “context of its creation.”
Although often overlooked as documentation, postage stamps created for
ofcial purposes contain a wealth of historical, social, and cultural information.
In “Postcolonial Philately as Memory and History: Stamping a New Iden-
tity for Trinidad and Tobago,” Desaray Pivot-Nolan traces the creation and
transformation of postcolonial Trinidad and Tobago and the formation of its
national identity through an examination of the great variety of postage stamps
issued over this period. When systematically examined, these stamps, currently
in the National Archives of Trinidad and Tobago, present a story of a nation’s
history and development captured in a unique format. Also utilizing archival
collections in Trinidad, Allison O. Ramsay, in “Crop Over and Carnival in the
Archives of Barbados and Trinidad and Tobago,” examines materials in newspa-
per repositories and on social media relating to these festivals. Crop Over and
Carnival are two of the best-known festivals in the region, cultural expressions
that originated during the period of African enslavement and tell stories of
race, class, colour, and gendered identities.
In addition to traditional records, Ramsay explores the documentation and
archiving opportunities of social media and websites, demonstrating that inter-
action with archival material in the digital world as well as the textual can also
unlock public memory.
Church records are often unrecognized and underutilized sources of archival
information in the Caribbean for, within a denomination, these materials tend
to be dispersed among various churches without an organized archival sys-
tem or structure. In “Ecclesiastical Records as Sources of Social History: The
Anglican Church of Trinidad and Tobago,” Janelle Duke discusses their social
and religious values as sources of history, collective memory, and the national
identity of Trinidad and Tobago. In the fnal chapter, “Erasure and Retention
in Jamaica’s Ofcial Memory: The Case of the Disappearing Telegrams,” James
 Introduction 13

Robertson asks the question – what factors contribute to shaping the collec-
tions of ofcial records in a postcolonial society such as Jamaica? With specifc
reference to the Jamaica Archives, he notes the gaps created not only by the
destruction of records caused by neglect or naturally occurring events such as
hurricanes, but also by deliberate actions of ofcers in removing records prior
to their transfer to archival custody.
As examples he uses telegrams and later savingrams of the late nineteenth
and twentieth centuries relating to the haphazard treatment of these records to
contemporary concerns with electronic records. As a historian, he discusses the
implications in trying to interpret records in which signifcant materials have
been removed.

Conclusion
Archiving Caribbean identity is a complex matter given the history of the
region with centuries of colonialism, oppression, slavery, and indentureship in
which the lives of the vast majority of the population were not documented
and valued only for their labour. The situation has not been helped by one-
sided views in surviving records in ofcial archival repositories in the region
that only refect the thought processes and actions of the elite and governing
classes. After all, the creation of records was essential to colonial control. Com-
batting these “silences” in the archives requires a holistic vision of what a record
is and could be, a recognition of the many ways in which societies express
themselves as well as an appreciation of the ways in which traditional records
can be reinterpreted to enhance the memory of the region. The chapters in
this volume present a few of the possibilities, honouring those of the past and
present, while imagining repositories of the future.

Notes
1 See “Mission”: The Dancehall Archive and Research Initiative. Retrieved November 11,
2021, from www.dancehallarchive.org/mission/
2 See “About Us,” Caribbean Yard Campus. Retrieved November 11, 2021, from www.
caribbeanyardcampus.org/about-us/

References
Ashcroft, B., Grifths, G., & Tifn, H. (2002). The empire writes back; Theory and practice in
post-colonial literatures (2nd ed.). Routledge.
Bastian, J. (2018). ‘Play mas’: Carnival in the archives and the archives in carnival: Records and
community identity in the United States Virgin Islands. In J. A. Bastian, J. A. Aarons, & S. H.
Grifn (Eds.), Decolonizing the Caribbean record, An archives reader (pp. 503–522). Litwin Books.
Benitez-Rojo, A. (1990). Three words towards creolization. In K. M. Balutansky & M. Sou-
rieau (Eds.), Caribbean creolization: Refections on the cultural dynamics of language, literature
and identity (pp. 53–61). University of the West Indies Press.
14 Introduction

Colwell, C. W. (2020, July). Records are practices, not artefacts an exploration of recordkeeping in
the Australian government in the age of digital transition and digital continuity (Dissertation).
University of Technology Sydney Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences.
Grifn, S. H., & Timcke, S. (2021). Re-framing archival thought in Jamaica and South
Africa: challenging racist structures, generating new narratives. Archives and Records, 1–17.
DOI: 10.1080/23257962.2021.2002137
Hall, S. (1996). Introduction: Who needs identity. In S. Hall & P. du Gay (Eds.), Questions
of cultural identity (pp. 1–17). Sage.
Nettleford, R. (1993). Inward stretch, outward reach: A voice from the Caribbean. Caribbean
Diaspora Press.
Nettleford, R. (2003). Caribbean cultural identity. Ian Randle.
Puri, S. (2004). The Caribbean postcolonial social equality, post-nationalism, and cultural hybridity.
Palgrave Macmillan.
Rose, D. B. (1996). Nourishing terrains, Australian aboriginal views of landscape and wilderness.
Australian Heritage Commission.
Thomas, M. (2018). Battling the ailment of sameness: Innovative approaches to archiving
in the national archives of authority of Saint Lucia. In J. A. Bastian, J. A. Aarons, & S. H.
Grifn (Eds.), Decolonizing the Caribbean record: An archives reader (pp. 352–362). Litwin
Books.
Watson, K. (n.d.). The pre-Columbian Caribbean. In A. Johnson (Ed.), Caribbean civili-
zation: A provisional interdisciplinary reader for the course FOUN 1101 (FD11A) Caribbean
civilization (pp. 2–13). Faculty of Humanities & Education, Cave Hill Campus, University
of the West Indies.
Yeo, G. (2020). Record-making and record-keeping in early societies (Kindle ed.). Taylor and
Francis.
Part I

Tangible and Intangible

Formats
Chapter 1

Soca and Collective Memory

Savannah Grass as an Archive
of Carnival
Kai Barratt

Introduction: Savannah Grass

Savannah Grass, a song soca from Trinidad and Tobago, performed by Kes the
Band and written by Jelani Shaw, was released in 2018 for the 2019 carnival sea-
son.1 The composition captures the ritual of arriving at the Queen’s Park Savan-
nah in Trinidad’s capital Port of Spain, in the early morning of the masquerade.2
The annual parade occurs on the Monday and Tuesday before Ash Wednesday,
marking the beginning of the Lenten period. The song takes its listeners to the
parade’s physical environment to experience the climate and rhythms of this
moment. Listeners also experience the emotions and movements of masquerad-
ers who wait to parade across the Savannah stage and who bear the impatience
of an entire year to perform in this sacred space. Soca songs like Savannah Grass
collectively call upon sensations, imaginations, events, energies, or even nuances
associated with carnival in Trinidad and Tobago. It has been challenging to
document cultural expressions such as carnival practices using ofcial or tra-
ditional archiving methods. Grifn (2021) argues that because archival records
are only recognized as valuable when written, Caribbean cultural expressions in
oral forms are not given ofcial recognition as records.
Although the Carnival Institute of Trinidad and Tobago (2020) is charged
with an archiving role, “[t]o store, preserve, classify and make easily retrievable
the information and artifacts collected,” there have been attempts to preserve
aspects of the festival. The institute mainly collects and stores video and audio
recordings, written, and other physical artefacts. In addition, the National
Archives of Trinidad and Tobago has curated carnival exhibitions such as
Carnival of Long Ago that was done in 2017 and is accessible virtually. Unfor-
tunately, these units are plagued with insufcient funding and human resources
to adequately store and manage all of the artefacts related to carnival. In a way
to “decolonize” record-keeping as only written, as Grifn puts it, this chapter
suggests that oral carnival artefacts such as soca serve as a repository to store
participants’ memories of carnival collectively and individually.
The chapter proposes that soca is a repository for collective memory that
archives the carnival experience in Trinidad and Tobago. Popular music scholar

DOI: 10.4324/9781003105299-3
18 Kai Barratt

Arno van der Hoeven highlights the signifcance of music and memories: “The
study of popular music memories thus concerns how popular music and its
culture are remembered and music’s capacity to induce reminiscence” (van der
Hoeven, 2018, p. 208). The focus of this piece will be to examine the memo-
ries soca evokes among its listeners through a content analysis of responses to
the song Savannah Grass on social media. It posits that Kes the Band’s Savannah
Grass (Kes the Band, 2019) collectively evokes memories of time, place, and
people, emotions that characterize carnival in Trinidad and Tobago. It further
acknowledges that these memories can be retrieved on social media where
listeners record them through their comments.

Background: Carnival and Soca in Trinidad

and Tobago
Like other sites where there are Caribbean-style carnivals, the carnival in Trini-
dad has a complex history that makes it a complicated cultural space for exami-
nation. The festival in Trinidad3 is traced to the Catholic French Creole planter
class in the late eighteenth century who had settled there to beneft from the
sugar industry powered by African slavery. For the European population, car-
nival celebrations began in December and culminated with huge masquerade
balls, dinners, and parties on the two days before Ash Wednesday, which com-
memorated the beginning of the Christian season of Lent.
During this period, the participation of the enslaved was limited. They, how-
ever, created their own spaces of revelry during the cannes brûlées or canboulay
that marked the end of the sugar cane harvest. After complete emancipation
in 1838, the festival became critical to the former slaves. Kim Johnson notes
that the carnival incorporated many of the African cultural traditions that “had
become a focal point for the elaboration of African cultural retentions in music,
dance, costume and ritual, and a celebration of freedom” (Johnson, 1988, p. xiv).
As the canboulay grew more popular among the former slaves, several attempts
to contain it resulted in the canboulay riots4 of the 1880s that responded to the
colonial authority’s attempt to ban the festivities associated with the event. The
riots highlighted two parallel carnival festivities – one celebrated by the former
planter class characterized by European Catholic rituals and another celebrated
by the Blacks, which had a strong African infuence. Thus, today’s carnival is
characterized by the African-infuenced canboulay that was ultimately sub-
sumed under the French catholic festival.
The musical elements of the canboulay later infuenced the development of
calypso. This Afro-Creole musical genre involved storytelling and also mocked
authoritative fgures and brought attention to social and political discords. In
addition, the steelband, a musical instrument invented in Trinidad, served as a
medium to enact opposition to social ills and unfair political practices. Thus,
the musical elements that emerged from the canboulay refect these elements
of resistance and celebration.
 Soca and Collective Memory 19

By the twentieth century, the carnival had evolved into a national festival
by accommodating the social practices of the more respectable middle and
upper classes. Even so, the Black lower classes continued to incorporate aspects
of their heritage into costuming, steelpan, and calypso. In the period after
independence from the British in 1962, the carnival parade came to be largely
defned by the masquerade – the costumed street parade or mas and j’ouvert,5
the parties or fetes as well as the music – steelpan, calypso, and soca. Today, the
festival, and by extension, its music, has become a repository of memories that
refects and informs social and cultural identity.
Soca drives carnival celebrations in Trinidad and Tobago. Although soca-
type songs existed before the 1970s, calypsonian, Garfeld Blackman claimed
the genre when he mixed calypso with Indo-Trinidadian rhythms calling it
soul calypso or sokah. Peter Mason describes Blackman’s soca as “a more up-
tempo, freer fowing and louder version of Calypso with a more laid back bass
line and a touch of Indian drumming, although still with the essential horn sec-
tion” (Mason, 1998, p. 29). Modern soca is more of a hybrid genre of calypso
that draws on various sounds, especially from North America, Jamaica, and
other forms of popular music in the Caribbean and other spaces. Soca follows
in the calypso tradition but is a livelier version with more emphasis on music
than on lyrics, which helps the genre gather signifcant commercial potential.
Soca verses are shorter than calypso, and there is an emphasis on catchy hooks
and rhythm that makes it conducive for dancing, and as such, it constitutes the
soundtrack for numerous carnival fetes and parties.
Soca is further characterized as seasonal, meaning its popularity does not
extend beyond the carnival season. Even so, it preserves aspects of Caribbean
culture and identity through collective memory that one could draw on at
any moment after the season ends. This preservation is evident at the various
carnivals in the Caribbean and its diaspora. Furthermore, digital media, more
than traditional radio, is responsible for keeping soca functional beyond carnival
seasons.

The Savannah
For Trinbagonians,6 the Queen’s Park Savannah, or the Savannah as it is also
known, is a signifcant physical space for carnival in Trinidad and Tobago. It has
various meanings and serves various purposes for Trinidadians and visitors dur-
ing the season. All major carnival events culminate at the Savannah. Through
an intricate performance of freedom and resistance that may not be possible
in other social and geographical spaces, the preparations of an entire year are
revealed. Over the years, these ideas of euphoria at the Savannah have been
captured in several soca songs dedicated to the Savannah or the stage; some
of these include Advantage (2011) and Waiting on the Stage (2016) by Machel
Montano, Stage Party (2019) by Destra Garcia, Judgement Stage (2019) by Patrice
Roberts, De Stage Open (2013) and Make a Stage (M.A.S.) (2007) by Fay Ann
20 Kai Barratt

Lyons, We Reach (2019) and Savannah (2018) by Iwer George, and Stage Gone
Bad (2020) by Iwer and Kes the Band. These songs, like Savannah Grass, chron-
icle the joy and freedom that peak at the Savannah or on “the stage.”
Historically, the upper echelons of Trinidad’s society used the 200-acre area
for recreational activities. The Victory Carnival in 1919 saw the beginnings of
carnival activities hosted at the site for the middle classes, while the Black lower
classes celebrated in downtown Port of Spain. Today, the Savannah continues to
have a recreational purpose. However, an area on its southern side houses what
is known as the stage or Savannah stage for carnival competitions and other
events during the season. This stage measures about 200 yards by 50 yards. It is
the site for calypso and steelband competitions, the King and Queen of carnival
competition, the Dimanche Gras7 show, j’ouvert, and the parade of bands for
children and adults. The Grand Stand and a North Stand were constructed on
the periphery of the stage to host spectators. During the season, the outskirts of
the stage are dedicated to vendors selling food and crafts, seating, a village for
other vendors, and socializing. Therefore, the physical space of the Savannah
is a critical focal point in the collective memory of Trinidadians and other
carnival participants.
Like most Caribbean musical expressions, soca songs chronicle carnival as
an experience of liberation and celebration, simultaneously highlighting social
nuances. With its mesmerizing groovy sound and emotional lyrics, Savannah
Grass evokes ideas about the Savannah and its place in the carnival imagina-
tion. It demonstrates that collective memory about a carnival moment can be
glorifed because of the music’s feel-good nature while cultural myths may
overshadow its tensions.
To examine the collective memories of carnival in listeners’ imaginations,
the research relied on responses documented on social media platforms, Face-
book, Twitter, and Instagram. The 32 comments from Trinbagonians at home
and abroad responded to the question: “When you hear Savannah Grass, what
memories/feelings about carnival are evoked?”8 Savannah Grass was chosen as
a subject for this enquiry because it was one of the most popular songs of the
2019 carnival season.9 Also, social media ofers a rich source for data in ethno-
graphic studies on collective memory.
Digital technologies ofer a new medium not only for conversation and con-
tact but also for the construction of viable, continuous “memory communities”
that creatively reassemble fragments from a shared past into a dynamic refective
expression of contemporary identity (Silberman & Purser, 2012, p. 16). Hence,
social media documents the narratives about soca to explore memories such as
those that Savannah Grass resonates.
The memories were categorized into themes of playing mas, home, fam-
ily, other carnival activities, and just general happy memories. These themes
refect a collective idea of carnival as celebratory and fun. They, however, rarely
capture the social and cultural tensions of carnival, which also defne carnival
 Soca and Collective Memory 21

culture in Trinidad. This cultural paradox will serve as the basis to examine
each of these themes.

Playing Mas
For the Trinbagonian, playing mas involves wearing a costume and parading for
two days. This action goes beyond this simple description and further involves
a complicated performance of transforming into something else while being
oneself in many incarnations. Savannah Grass places the culmination of this
complex performance on the Savannah stage. For masqueraders, arriving at
the stage is the peak of their carnival experience. They perform a release from
daily struggles where masqueraders “leh go” (let go) and display their costumed
bodies for the world to see. A response on Facebook depicted this evocation:

The lineup to go on stage at d Savannah. My pores raised. . . . I got an

extra burst of energy, after that blazing sun drained me! That song ener-
gised me to go on that stage and leh go!

This excitement is so spectacular that it remains in the participant’s memory.

Esiaba Irobi explains how these sentiments are expressed through the body:

What makes Carnival remarkable . . . the body has a memory and can be
a site of resistance through performance, is that it is an eloquent example
of the transcendent expressed through spectacle, procession, colors, music,
dance, and most important, the physical movement of the body.
(Irobi, 2007, p. 901)

Resistance in the form of celebration is displayed on stage through a physi-

cal release of the body – singing, shouting, raising the arms, jumping, and
wining.10 Respondents recalled their body’s subconscious reaction to Savannah
Grass through some form of dancing or wining whether they were at home, in
the car, or at an event.
Soca songs like Savannah Grass capture masqueraders’ feelings of absolute
freedom that many will recall days or years later. However, fun and freedom for
all are not always the result of the carnival masquerade. The evolution of the
commercially driven “pretty mas” (also called “beads and bikini mas”) in the
last 40 years has slowly become representative of the masquerade while tradi-
tional art forms fght to stay relevant.
“Pretty mas” designs include a swimsuit decorated with feathers and other
appliqué. They resemble those worn by Las Vegas showgirls or the Samba cos-
tumes of the carnival in Rio de Janeiro. Men don swim shorts and sometimes
a headpiece. The pretty mas costumes are often mass-produced in China, mak-
ing it a proftable venture for some bands. The pretty mas bands can range from
22 Kai Barratt

US$800 to $2000,11 which includes a luxurious mas experience with unlimited

food and drinks, pampering, concierge, top-notch security, and other extrava-
gant services, ultimately excluding many. In these bands, the economic Others
witness their exclusion as they serve drinks and food or hold the security rope
to keep out onlookers. Kerrigan draws a similarity to Errol Hill’s description
of the pre-emancipation revelry: “At the colonial carnival celebrations, the
enslaved were needed for housework, drink service, musical entertainment,
and food preparation” (Kerrigan, 2016, p. 11). Therefore, the all-inclusive
pretty mas experience highlights the social divisions in Trinbagonian society.
An alternative stage, the Socadrome, that was established in 2014 at the
national stadium was set up to accommodate these bands. Some of the large,
elite, pretty mas all-inclusive groups created a space for themselves as they
wanted to get away from the congestion to cross the stage at the Savannah. The
diference in place for the celebrations further alludes to the social inequalities
that carnival brings to the fore, emphasizing that wealth and class characterize
how carnival is performed in the past and the present.
Another point of contention is that the pretty mas costumed body has
become representative of the collective mas experience. Although various races,
ethnicities, and body types are witnessed during the parade, the prevalence of
slim bodies in carnival suggests that playing mas is accessible to those with a
specifc body type. In the media coverage of the parade, fat bodies, especially,
are excluded in this narrative. Other social issues such as race and ethnicity also
intersect in the media coverage where brown- or light-skinned and slim bodies
dominate the coverage (Kerrigan, 2016). The frequency of these images in the
traditional and social media helps evoke memories of carnival in a one-dimen-
sional way and the all-encompassing nature of carnival is brought to light.
The recollections of the Savannah as the place to play mas are central to the
collective memory of carnival participants:

Places of remembrance function as focal points of collective memory.

Thus, such a place has high symbolic value for a social group as it can cre-
ate a common identity.
(Birkner & Donk, 2018, p. 7)

Savannah Grass conjures memories of fun, release, and unity associated with
playing mas. However, unfavourable recollections such as those that mirror
social and cultural discords revealed in playing mas, although repressed, are
present. Thus, repression is a signifcant part of nostalgic carnival memories.

Carnival Nostalgia/Carnival as “Home”

Many respondents identifed nostalgia when they heard the song. Soca sum-
mons the past and links happiness to specifc events and emotions. Garth Green
provides an adequate description of nostalgia among carnival participants:
 Soca and Collective Memory 23

Nostalgia is necessarily selective, as is memory in general, but nostalgia sug-

gests a certain longing and desire for what was past, lost, and can never be
again. Nostalgia is about attempting to re-create what cannot be regained.
(Green, 2007, p. 65)

Nostalgia relating to music, mas, home, and togetherness dominated the study’s
online discussion. For some, specifcally those over 40 years old, the carnival
they imagined was an authentic festival that is now lost. As a result, their recol-
lections mainly included refections of a carnival of long ago without a com-
mercial focus:

Playing mas in Kiddies Carnival as a La Diablesse for the frst time, then
growing to appreciate pan “on the greens”, crossing the stage every year
with pure joy . . . these new bands kill it for us with their alternate routes
btw.

La Diablesse is a local folk character who uses her beauty and charm to seduce
men and lead them to their demise. The respondent’s reference to the La
Diablesse shows knowledge of and preference for carnival in the years past.
This carnival, for the respondent, was more legitimate as there was a focus on
artistic expression as well as it lacked commercial aspects like the pretty mas of
recent times. Furthermore, it took place at the Savannah, the centre of nostal-
gia rather than the Socadrome, the home to pretty mas.
With its slow groovy sounds instead of the high energetic soca, Savannah
Grass engages memories of an ideal or authentic carnival, especially relating to
music. Because of its focus on commentary and lyrics, calypso is viewed as a
more legitimate genre than soca, a creation for revelry and parties. However,
Savannah Grass goes back to its calypso roots which are evident in its sound,
lyrics, and subject matter. In addition, calypso’s connection to its African herit-
age makes the listening experience nostalgic, giving it legitimacy instead of the
formulaic and repetitive nature of soca songs. In response to a question about
the infuence of calypso on the composition, the song’s writer, Jehlani Shaw,
says:

It was deliberate to include ideas of carnival past. . . . I’ve always wanted to

include every part of carnival. . . . There’s the Hindi hook and there’s that
swing that Ras Shorty I created . . . that is soca music. It is all purposeful.
(Clarke, 2019)

Shaw’s deliberate positioning of nostalgia by including features and sounds of

calypso and the past reminds listeners of a carnival of their youth that they
enjoyed.
Nostalgia takes the listener back to the ideal carnival, and they construct this
carnival as without proft and its accompanying inequalities. The commercially
24 Kai Barratt

driven carnival that works for the state and other entrepreneurs refects the
dominance of “Euro-American capitalism [that includes] proft, mass pro-
duction, luxury, sex appeal and [is] service oriented” to the detriment of the
traditional depictions or other local art forms (Kerrigan, 2016, p. 10). Conse-
quently, some see the business model used by pretty mas bands and parties that
cater to tourists and visitors or the middle and upper classes as a deviation from
the real carnival that is socially inclusive.
Soca songs adopt the Bakhtinian narrative of the carnivalesque to help its com-
mercial motives. Mikhail Bakhtin theorized that carnivalesque provided opportu-
nities for those on the fringes to temporarily invert social norms in their favour.
Bakhtin’s concept has helped in understanding pre-Lenten festivities that embrace
otherness and unrestricted consumption. This carnivalesque ultimately defnes
moments of resistance and opposition, which contextualizes the celebration as a
“steam valve” similar to what the Savannah represents. This rhetoric has charac-
terized soca as the music to “free up.” Unlike the commentary present in social
and political calypsos, the sounds and increased beats per minute of soca guide the
celebration and revelry, so the message, for the most part, is about good times,
release from the drudgery of daily life, as well as social unity. These ideas ultimately
appeal to visitors, specifcally the Trinbagonians who reside in the diaspora.
The Trinbagonian phrase “all ah we is one,” which symbolizes a cosmopoli-
tan nation where social barriers are removed temporarily during the festival, is
present in this Bakhtinian narrative. Trinbagonians in their foreign residence
may not experience these ideas of social unity. Their nostalgia, in this regard, is
summoned through notions of carnival as home.

I see almost a room of people who came “home home” for a funeral wine,
cry, hug up, spread deh hand and leggoe all while singing “Oh Lahd Oh!”
To that blessed grass that they touching even in they mind like Harry Pot-
ter making sure the magical seal remains.

The release that the song evokes is magical and is ingrained in the imaginations
of masqueraders and non-masqueraders. For those abroad, it reminds them
about being home, and like the Savannah, Trinidad being that place to reset
and release, which inspires a feeling of hope, according to another participant:

It evokes more than carnival for me. It just makes me feel hope I guess.
Like when he sings the refrain I feel like all is well in the world. We’re
gonna be alright.

The people who return home for carnival do not visualize or expect that the
socio-economic and other social inequities are included in the “all ah we is one”
myth such as violence in all forms across the society. As outsiders, they beneft
from the economic and non-resident privilege that allows them to ignore cer-
tain discomforts. For instance, in 2016, at the end of the carnival celebrations,
 Soca and Collective Memory 25

there was a report of the rape and murder of a female Japanese national. Clad in
her costume under a tree in the Savannah, Asami Nagakiya’s body was found.
This unfortunate event demonstrated that violence and inequalities continue
to defne women’s daily experiences amidst the revelry. It also highlights the
memories of the Savannah that Trinbagonians do not want in their carnival
imaginations. In this sense, Van der Hoeven suggests that memories have limita-
tions, writing that “[a]part from the fact it is impossible to remember all past
experiences, selection allows us to express what is worth remembering and
what has special signifcance for us” (van der Hoeven, 2018, p. 209).
Likewise, visitors and locals may have repressed the memory of this incident,
among other unpleasant ones, because they value more pleasurable memories
such as those related to mas, music, and having a good time. However, unpleas-
ant recollections may be repressed but not erased from the memory.

Carnival and Family and Other Memories

Another theme in the listeners’ recollections centred on carnival as a period
where families come together. Yet, at the same time, this memory was pain-
ful for some. For instance, a reply in this category referred to the respondent’s
parents who had passed away:

My dad – he was a pan man, his love for Carnival and culture. Mummy –
playing in Wayne Berkley. When we reached the Savannah stage, I cried.

For the song’s vocalist, Kees, it was also a moment to grieve his father Bunny,
who had died not long after the song was released. Bunny’s signifcant pres-
ence in the Savannah and other carnival activities was well known. For Kees,
performing the song called on memories of his father:

There are many times in this carnival I cried. In the Gateway fete. It was
the frst time I was performing with the band for the season. I saw his face
and I cried.
(Rampersad, 2019)

Bunny Diefenthaller, like Kees and the respondent’s dad, was heavily involved
in carnival.
Those who did not associate the song with playing mas identifed other rec-
reational and culinary activities associated with the Savannah:

Actually not Carnival related memories at all, more like kite fying, phol-
ourie12 opposite QRC, liming in the Hollows, and maybe pan on the drag.

Historically, the steelpan came to be associated with the Black lower classes
in Port of Spain. Over time, the instrument became signifcant in carnival
26 Kai Barratt

through the Panorama competition, which showcases steelpan orchestras or

steelbands from across the country. In the competition, the bands’ arrange-
ment and rendition of a calypso or soca song are judged. Because of the song’s
popularity, the band Exodus, after advancing to the fnals in 2019, decided to
change their song selection to Savannah Grass. The organizing body of the
competition, PanTrinbago, opposed the change. Eventually, the matter was set-
tled in court, and Exodus was allowed to play the song at the fnal round. Even
without the lyrics, the song’s melody, captured by the steelbands, reinforced its
ability to evoke emotions and imaginations among its listeners.
Kees later admitted that hearing the song at Panorama was difcult for him
as it summoned memories of his father:

I cried in pan too. Somebody came up to me in pan and showed me a

picture of him I’ve never seen before and in that you feel as if he is alive.
(Rampersad, 2019)

Carnival is more than an annual entertainment event. It is a spiritual and emo-

tional ritual where participants fnd comfort or even discomfort. It is sacred
to the point of making the dead seem alive. In this sense, it is a tribute to the
ancestors reminiscent of the Afro-Creole and Christian infuences in the Car-
ibbean carnival and its music. Like these traditions, death is celebrated within
the masquerade:

This because while to the western world, anything under a mask can pass
for a masquerade, to Africa and the Africans, the masqueraders are the
dead ancestors among the living, which is hinged on the belief that human
life does not end in physical death.
(Akubor, 2016, p. 35)

The respondents, in this sense, felt the presence of their deceased family mem-
bers through the song, ultimately merging the spirit world and the masquerade
world. However, celebrating death is not the only African connection to car-
nival and soca. The music and the masquerade are also rooted in West African
traditions and resonate in participant’s memories:

This tune is the epitome of the feeling I get when playing Mas. A tune of
true love for the culture and freedom when playing Mas. The ancestors
revisit me, when this tune play!

Expressions in carnival like soca have assumed the “beats, chants and struc-
tures” of Afro-Creole religions in Trinidad, such as Orisha/Baptist (Henry,
2003, p. 171). This religious aesthetic evokes memories of African rituals that
have been denigrated instead of being celebrated because of a brutal European
legacy. Savannah Grass then commemorates listeners’ African heritage.
 Soca and Collective Memory 27

Conclusion: “If You Know, Then You Know”

Cultural expressions in a postcolonial context are often manifestations of
reshaping aspects of a cruel and unforgiving past. In the Caribbean, this past
was marred by an anti-African sentiment that did not value the practices and
beliefs of enslaved people. Savannah Grass poetically captures the complicated
process of reassembling these pieces in a contentious socio-cultural atmosphere.
Soca tells stories, induces reminiscence, and attempts to assemble these frag-
ments of self-identity. It can evoke a sense of time, place, and emotion, especially
when the song is repeatedly heard, reinforcing collective memory. Because
memories can be selective, and participants focus on those that are enjoyable,
some unfavourable aspects are excluded. The memories, therefore, focus on
feel-good and exhilarating experiences. Nonetheless, cultural expressions like
soca document tradition as much as written records do (Grifn, 2021).
Furthermore, social media platforms allow for memories about carnival to
fnd collective continuity. Soca is, therefore, the access point to participants’
memories as it captures the physical, emotional, and spiritual meanings of car-
nival for them. Through written messages, photos, and videos, these memories
are documented in the social media space. These spaces further provide rich
data for scholars who explore social media as a digital archive from those who
live the experience.
As presented in Savannah Grass, the Savannah is a microcosm of Trinidad and
Tobago or, as Kes the Band articulates, “[i]s the place of bacchanal; In this sweet
botanical,” In this context, Bacchanal is “[v]ery noisy merry-making; noisy fun
(often with strong sexual overtones) . . . a scandal; a cause for great grief; very
disreputable conduct; corruption” (Allsopp & Allsopp, 2003, p. 56). Trinidad
and Tobago is the embodiment of bacchanal characterized by social, cultural,
and economic tensions inherited from a hostile past where survival was neces-
sary. Carnival and other cultural expressions embody these tensions.
Amidst the monotony of green grass in the Savannah, the Royal Botanical
Gardens located on the northern side is a hidden beauty marked with a mix
of local and foreign fora and fauna. The sweet botanical represents the rev-
elry, release, and beauty that emerges in a world of chaos and repetition. This
metaphorical botanical is found in carnival imaginations and is recognized and
remembered collectively by those who experience the feelings it manifests, or
as Kes the Band declares, “if you know *yeah* . . . then you know.”

Notes
1 The band is called Kes the Band, and the lead singer is Kees Diefenthaller.
2 The lyrics to Savannah Grass are available at https://genius.com/Kes-savannah-grass-
lyrics The performance is available on YouTube at www.youtube.com/watch?v=
bXXq4RBKhtc
3 Although the state includes both Trinidad and Tobago, which has a population of about
1.39 million, the carnival originated and was developed in the geographical space of
28 Kai Barratt

Trinidad, which is the larger of the two islands. Although Tobago hosts its own carnival,
the larger festival takes place in Trinidad.
4 Presently, there is a re-enactment of the canboulay riots that takes place early Carnival
Monday morning. The re-enactment involves theatre, dance, and drumming that aims
to help participants remember the elements of resistance in the celebrations.
5 J’ouvert is traditionally a celebration of emancipation in August. However, after the can-
boulay was subsumed under the French Catholic carnival, it came to be celebrated as
“the opening of carnival festivities.”
6 A colloquial term for citizens from the republic of Trinidad and Tobago.
7 Dimanche Gras is concert-styled production on the Sunday before the festival’s culmi-
nation that features the music and costuming elements of carnival.
8 Respondents were informed that their responses will be used anonymously in this
publication.
9 The song placed second in the Road March competition playing 207 times during the
parade at the Savannah Stage. On YouTube, as of June 2020, it attracted 10,067,905
views and 2,160 comments. On the local radio, according to the Copyright Music
Organization of Trinidad and Tobago, Savannah Grass recorded 192 hours and 51 min-
utes of airplay in 2019.
10 Wining is an Afro-Caribbean dance that involves a sensual rotation of the waist and hips.
11 These prices are applicable to 2017–2019 carnival season.
12 Pholourie starts with dough made from four and split peas powder that is then fried on
the spot and served with a spicy chutney.

References
Akubor, E. O. (2016). Africans concept of masquerades and their role in societal control and
stability: Some notes on the Esan people of southern Nigeria. Asian and African Studies,
25(1), 32–50.
Allsopp, R., & Allsopp, J. (2003). Dictionary of Caribbean English usage. University of West
Indies Press.
Birkner, T., & Donk, A. (2018). Collective memory and social media: Fostering a new
historical consciousness in the digital age? Memory Studies, 13(4), 367–383.
Carnival Institute of Trinidad and Tobago. (2020). The carnival institute of Trinidad and Tobago.
Retrieved September 19, 2020, from www.ncctt.org/new/index.php/about-ncc/depart-
ments/the-carnival-institute.html
Clarke, T. (2019, February 17). CNC3 the morning brew interview – Jelani “POPS”
Shaw, online video. YouTube. Retrieved June 19, 2020, from www.youtube.com/
watch?v=KWxtF5eKGO4
Green, G. L. (2007). Authenticity, commerce, and nostalgia in the Trinidad carnival. In G.
L. Green & P. W. Scher (Eds.), Trinidad carnival: The cultural politics of a transnational festival
(pp. 62–84). Indiana University Press.
Grifn, S. (2021, July 13). Where records dance, sing and talk: Exploring Caribbean record
forms and archival studies, online video. YouTube. Retrieved September 21, 2021, from
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jHZEIFr_9A
Henry, F. (2003). Reclaiming African religions in Trinidad: The socio-political legitimation of the
Orisha and spiritual Baptist faiths, Barbados. University of the West Indies Press.
Irobi, E. (2007). What they came with: Carnival and the persistence of African performance
aesthetics in the diaspora. Journal of Black Studies, 37(6), 896–913.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Hij richtte zich op met mat gebaar, legde den sterk geurenden sigaret op
een zilveren aschbak, waarin de grillige figuren van een drakenkop
waren gedreven, en liep naar het onyxtafeltje.

De scherven van het porseleinen afgodsbeeldje raapte hij bijeen en

wierp ze in een uit Turksche kralen en haaientanden geregen
prullemand. Daarna nam hij het boek van den vloer en begaf zich er
opnieuw mee naar den divan.

Hij sloeg de zijden bladen open op de plek waar hij zooeven was
opgehouden en las weer:

„Papaver somniferum, slaapwekkende maankop.… sterk verdoovende

kracht.… voortdurend gebruik bij Chineezen en Javanen zeer in
zwang … ondermijnt, nòg erger dan de jenever, de krachten des
levens.…”

Oswald rilde.

Toen haalde hij uit zijn borstzak een portefeuille van wit slangenleer te
voorschijn. Hij opende het voorwerp en kreeg daaruit een zwaren brief,
met violetkleurige inkt geschreven op kanariegeel papier.

De brief was, gestoken in een eenvoudigen witten envelop,

geadresseerd aan: Oswald Harringa.

Niets bijzonders was op het adres te bespeuren. Alleen in den

linkerbenedenhoek van deze envelop was een eigenaardige versiering
aangebracht, een soort monogram.

En de aandachtige beschouwer, die meer dan [13]oppervlakkig de

dingen wenschte te bekijken, had in die vlakversiering een aantal letters
kunnen zien aangebracht. Hij had dan de volgende letters kunnen
ontcijferen:

d-i-l-d-w-o-i-s.
Maar in den huize Harringa had niemand er nog ooit aan gedacht om
zoo’n kleine versiering, aangebracht op een eenvoudige witte
enveloppe, nader te gaan bestudeeren.

En zóó al iemand het in zijn hoofd mocht hebben gekregen om die

letters te ontwarren, hij zou immers niets wijzer zijn geworden.

Wat zeiden hem die acht letters? d-i-l-d-w-o-i-s.

De gele brief, beschreven met violetkleurige inkt, bevatte slechts enkele

regels schrift.

Ze luidden:

„Broeder!

Hedenavond elf uur! Hindoe-vrouw heeft de sleutels!

OPIOPHAAG.”

De jonge Harringa vouwde den brief weer dicht en borg hem in de

portefeuille.

Hij stond op en fluisterde: „Wàt moet ik doen!”

Hij keek naar het boek: „beneveld verstand.… vermagerd lichaam.…

verminderd geheugen.… puisten … zweren … kliergezwellen … en dan
—sterven aan hartlijden.…..”

Een uur later werd op de deur van Oswald Harringa’s zitkamer geklopt.

„Binnen.”

De huisknecht trad in.

„Of meneer komt dineeren.”

„Neen, Egbert. Ik zal niet komen. Ik heb zware hoofdpijn.”

De oude man keek op.

„Als meneer eens wat minder rookte,” waagde hij te zeggen.

Oswald keek op.

„Zei je wat, Egbert? Wat minder rookte? Neen, neen, die paar sigaretten
hinderen niet!”

De huisknecht ging heen om zijn mevrouw te gaan vertellen, dat de

jonge meneer geen eetlust had en op zijn kamer wenschte te blijven.

En onderwijl bedacht de huisknecht, dat het toch niet alles moest zijn
voor een vlijtig, werkzaam man als meneer Albert Harringa was, die den
heelen dag nog arbeidde op zijn kantoor en nu weer voor zaken
heelemaal naar Egypte moest, om een zoon „d’r op na te houen”, die
niks uitvoerde. Die hoogstens eens een uurtje naar het kantoor van zijn
vader ging maar daar óók al niemendal werkte. Dat had Albert wel eens
gehoord, als meneer en mevrouw samen spraken over hun oudsten
zoon, die zoo’n doelloos leven leidde en wiens gezondheid zoo zwak
scheen, dat zijn ouders hem maar ontzagen.

Wat er nog eens van meneer Oswald terecht moest komen, dáár was de
oude benieuwd naar.

[Inhoud]
VIERDE HOOFDSTUK.
 De loodgieters op het dak.

„Wat is dat voor een allerzonderlingst glazen kolfje?” vroeg Charly

Brand, toen hij een dag later de ruime kamer binnentrad, door Raffles
ingericht tot studeerkamer.

Een groot aantal boeken stonden er gerangschikt in vele kasten, langs

de muren geplaatst. Een reusachtige globe troonde op een tafeltje en
verscheiden landkaarten lagen opgerold op een groot rek.

De Groote Onbekende had in dit vertrek zoowat alles verzameld, wat

hem een beetje kon helpen en wegwijs maken bij zijn nasporingen.

Maar totnogtoe had hij zich niet opgehouden met de bezigheid,

waarmee Charly hem verraste.

„Wat dat is?” beantwoordde Raffles de vraag van zijn jongen secretaris,
„dat is een kolfje.”

„Ja, maar wat voer je ermee uit?” [14]

„O, wou je dat graag weten?”

„Precies!”

„Wel, Charly, ik heb een kleine, scheikundige proef genomen!”

„Drommels!”

„Een heel eenvoudige!”

„En met succes?”

„Met zéér veel!”

„Wat heb je gevonden?”

„Een beetje opium.”

„Waarin?”

„In een sigaret.”

„En van wien was die sigaret?”

„Beste jongen, nu vraag je te veel.”

„Dus je bent weer bezig, het een of ander geheim op te lossen?”

„Precies!”

Charly vroeg niet verder.

Hij wist uit ervaring, dat Lord Lister, als hij bezig was met de oplossing
van een of ander belangrijk probleem en als dus zijn geest werd
beziggehouden door allerlei combinaties, niet wilde worden lastig
gevallen met vragen, die hij toch niet dacht te beantwoorden.

Dan was de Groote Onbekende steeds kort-af, als hem iets werd
gevraagd.

„Mond houden,” dacht Charly, „en afwachten. Edward zal wel vanzelf uit
den hoek komen, als hij al iets heeft mee te deelen.”

En inderdaad!

Nog geen half uur later, welken tijd Charly had doorgebracht met het
bladeren in een paar Engelsche tijdschriften, om dan telkens, tersluiks,
een blik te werpen op het gelaat van zijn vriend, die zat te teekenen en
te denken, stond Raffles op uit zijn stoel.

Hij klapte zijn gouden sigarettenkoker open, nam daaruit een uiterst dun
gerolden sigaret en nadat hij nog een tijd lang zwijgend de fijne
rookwolkjes had nagekeken, begon hij:

„Charly, er is werk aan den winkel!”

„Zie je wel,” dacht Charly, met een gevoel van triomf, „ik dacht wel, dat
Edward eindelijk weer spraakzaam zou worden.”

Maar de uiting van den Grooten Onbekende beviel diens blonden

secretaris maar half.

Charly was er volstrekt niet op gebrand om te worden betrokken in de

rustelooze avonturen van zijn heer en meester. Hij bleef het liefst buiten
schot en keek van uit een wijden fauteuil heel graag toe, als Lord Lister
de moeilijkste avonturen ondernam. Hij juichte mee, als een
onderneming slaagde en hij beefde, erger dan het slachtoffer zelf, als
gevaar dreigde.

En daarom was het dan ook met slechts matige vroolijkheid en

belangstelling in zijn stem, toen hij zei:

„Werk aan den winkel? Voor wie?”

„Wel, boy, voor ons beiden!”

Charly werd opmerkzamer.

„Wat voor soort werk?”

„Dat zal ik je uitvoerig vertellen. Luister!”

Charly stond op trad naar zijn vriend toe, schoof een stoel aan en ging
zitten.

„Vertel maar, Edward, ik ben geheel oor!”

„Het verhaal is kort, Charly, en minder belangwekkend, dan je denkt. Je

moet je eenvoudig met mij, als loodgieter verkleed, naar een huis
begeven en daar op het dak klauteren om er, natuurlijk „zoogenaamd,”
eenige werkzaamheden te verrichten. Ik hoop nu maar, dat de bak met
gereedschap je niet te zwaar zal vallen, mijn jongen.”

Charly’s gelaat klaarde op.

„O, als ’t anders niet is, Edward, ik ben volkomen tot je dienst.” En toen,
na eenige aarzeling, voegde hij eraan toe:

„Zeg, Edward, er is toch geen gevaar aan verbonden?”

Raffles lachte hartelijk.

„Gevaar? Daaraan denk ik steeds het allerlaatst, m’n jongen! Och, kijk
eens, boy, aan alles is ten slotte gevaar verbonden, niet waar? Gevaar
is immers zoo iets betrekkelijks. Als je op straat loopt, kun je onder een
auto raken, als je roeit, kan je giek of wherry omslaan; bij het voetballen
kun je een trap tegen je maag krijgen; uit een vliegmachine val je
meestal dood; bij het schaatsenrijden kom je in een wak terecht of je
breekt je nek.…..”

Charly hield zijn ooren dicht.

„Hou op, Edward, het duizelt me; ik krijg sterretjes voor m’n oogen.”

„O, beste jongen! Ik was nog lang niet uitgepraat. Want ik had je nog
niet verteld, dat er bij zoo’n expeditie op een dak steeds het gevaar
dreigt naar beneden te kunnen slaan, zoo maar, pardoes op het
plaveisel. Verdere opsomming zal ik je ditmaal sparen.

„We gaan er vanavond samen op uit om ons van een paar flinke
werkmanspakken te voorzien; voor gereedschap is al gezorgd.”

Eenvoudig gekleed, een pet op het hoofd, de klep [15]over de oogen

getrokken, gingen dien avond Lord Lister en zijn jonge secretaris op
pad.

„We moeten naar den Haarlemmerdijk,” sprak de Groote Onbekende, „in

een der kleedingwinkels uit die drukke volksbuurt zullen we wel terecht
komen.”

Het tweetal wandelde, al rookend en pratend, naar het Leidscheplein en

vandaar door de vroolijke, helder verlichte winkelstraten naar het
stadsgedeelte, waarachter de Jordaan zich uitstrekt en waar vooral in de
avonduren zulk een groote drukte heerscht van vrouwen en mannen uit
het volk die, na gedanen arbeid, nog een straatje om kuieren om te
kijken, te praten, te koopen.

Inderdaad slaagden Raffles en zijn vriend al heel spoedig met hun koop
en, ieder met een groot pak onder den arm, stevig met grof touw dicht
gebonden, wandelden ze terug naar het Centraal-Station en daar
stapten ze op het voorbalcon van een der motorwagens van lijn 2.

Niemand van de passagiers, zoo hij hen al gekend mocht hebben, zou
in het tweetal de elegante heeren hebben herkend, die zulk een opzien
baarden bij de dames en zulk een aangenamen indruk maakten, als ze
een diner- of balzaal binnentraden; die in de schouwburgloge steeds
aller oogen tot zich trokken.

Gansch onopgemerkt kwam het tweetal terug in de villa en toen een

uurtje later zoowel Charly Brand als Edward Lister zich had gestoken in
den werkmanskiel, pijpje in den mond, gereedschappenbak, waarin
stukken pijp, zink, spijkers en hamers, onder den arm, toen zagen ze er
uit als een paar loodgieters van het bovenste plankje.

Den volgenden middag kon men het tweetal, op dezelfde manier

uitgedost, omstreeks vijf uur, over de Hoogesluis zien stappen.

„Maar Edward!”
Charly bleef plotseling staan, zette zijn gereedschappenbak op den
grond en begon, om zich een houding te geven, opnieuw den brand te
steken in zijn kalken neuswarmertje.

„Wat heb je nu weer; neem dien bak op, Charly, je belemmert het
verkeer!”

„Ik denk er niet aan! Ik doe geen stap verder, ik verroer geen vin, als je
me niet eerst op mijn vraag hebt geantwoord.”

„Vraag dan op!”

„Als er nu eens werkelijk loodgieters bezig zijn op het huis van meneer
Harringa, dan snappen ze immers meteen, dat wij komen met héél
andere bedoelingen.”

Raffles haalde de schouders op.

„Raap op je bak, Charly,” sommeerde hij nogmaals, „zóó snugger was ik

ook wel! Daaraan heb ik óók gedacht! Stel je gerust! De mannen zouden
vandaag niet werken, omdat er een laagje gewapend beton is
aangebracht, dat eerst nog moet besterven. We zijn, wat dàt betreft,
veilig, boy!”

Charly nam nu z’n bak weer op, waartegen een straatjongen al eens
had geschopt, onder den uitroep:

„Schiet op baasie, anders kom je te laat!”

Charly keek den jongen nijdig aan.

„Maak dat je weg komt,” snauwde hij.

„Hij zeit wat,” glunderde de jongen terug, maar meteen maakte hij zich
uit de voeten.
„Pf,” zuchtte Charly weer, „ik begin het ongemakkelijk warm te krijgen,
Edward! Die bak is zóó zwaar!”

„Kom boy, nog een paar minuten, dan zijn we er!”

Charly torstte z’n last verder, af en toe stil staande om den bak van den
eenen schouder op den anderen over te brengen.

Totdat ze eindelijk het groote huis hadden bereikt.

Op de koperen naamplaat las Charly: A. Harringa.

Raffles belde.

De huisknecht deed open.

„We hebben nog een karwei op ’t dak te verrichten,” zeide Lord Lister,
„de baas heeft ons gezonden.”

Hij spuwde een geweldigen pruim op straat, voordat hij de gang

binnenstapte en toen op gemoedelijken toon tot den bediende zei:

„Me collega’s, die hier gisteren werkten, hebben nou een karweitje aan
de Stadhouderskade. Wil je ons even den weg naar het dak wijzen,
meester?”

„Wel zeker,” zei Egbert, „loopt maar achter mij aan, vrienden.”

Charly volgde den huisknecht en achter Charly kwam Raffles.

Zoo kwam het, dat de oude man het niet zag, hoe Raffles uit zijn
gereedschapsbak een pijpje wit krijt te voorschijn haalde en daarmede
op enkele deurpaneelen en het hekwerk langs de trappen een klein
kruisje teekend.

Op den zolder gekomen, zei Egbert:

„Nou maar langs deze ladder en dan door het luik, dan bennen jullie,
waar je wezen moet.”

„Dank je, baas,” zei Raffles, tegen z’n pet tikkend.

Egbert ging de zoldertrap weer af.

Even nog stak hij z’n hoofd over de trapleuning. [16]

„Jullie vindt den weg wel terug, nietwaar, als de duisternis valt?”

„In orde, meester,” antwoordde Raffles.

Egbert verdween en Lord Lister, gevolgd door zijn secretaris, begonnen

de ladder te beklimmen naar het groote vierkante dakluik.

Met kracht zette Raffles den rechterschouder onder het zware ijzeren
luik, waarvan hij eerst de ijzeren haken had losgemaakt en knarsend in
de roestige scharnieren opende het zich.

„Oef!” steunde hij, „dat is een zwaar brok!”

Toen stak hij het donkere hoofd door de opening en met een vluggen
zwaai stond hij op het platte, met zink beslagen dak van het groote
heerenhuis.

Charly gaf zijn vriend de beide gereedschapskisten aan, welke Raffles

naast elkaar neerzette, en toen begaf ook de secretaris van Lord Lister
zich naar zijn nieuwste arbeidsveld.

Samen namen zij toen het zware luik op, om het op zijn plaats terug te
brengen.

„Voorzichtig, Edward, niet heelemaal sluiten!” vermaande Charly. „Dan

kunnen we het van buitenaf immers niet meer open krijgen en dan
zouden we hier leelijk opgesloten zitten!”

„Hindert niet, boy! Laat maar gerust schieten, er is toch heel weinig kans
op, dat we langs dezen weg weer naar beneden terug gaan,”
antwoordde de Groote Onbekende.

„Niet langs dezen weg? Wou je je dan langs de regenpijp naar omlaag
laten glijden?”

„Weet ik nog niet. Misschien wel!”

En toen Charly zijn vriend verschrikt aankeek, wel wetende, dat niets
den overmoedigen Edward te gewaagd was, sprak deze met een
glimlach:

„Nou dan, om jou gerust te stellen, verzeker ik je, dat we de regenpijp

niet noodig zullen hebben.”

Het dak was omgeven door ijzer hekwerk. Charly begaf zich onmiddellijk
daarheen, en liet zijn blikken in het rond gaan.

„Je hebt hier een nog veel mooier uitzicht dan we indertijd hadden in
onze kamers van het Amstel-Hotel!” was Charly’s eerste opmerking.
„Zeg, Edward, kijk eens, hoe ver je van hier den Amstel wel over kunt
kijken! O, wat is dat interessant!”

„Ja, heel mooi,” klonk het terug. „Ik moet het interessante echter een
beetje dichterbij zoeken, boy!”

En reeds was Raffles bezig, om met scherpen blik het dak te

onderzoeken.

Doch aanvankelijk vond hij niets bijzonders.

Het geheele platte dak, waarop een zestal schoorsteenen uitkwamen,

was gedeeltelijk met zink beslagen. Nadat Raffles de zinklaag, die over
het dak was aangebracht, nauwkeurig had bekeken, begaf hij zich naar
de plaatsen, waar zich de schoorsteenen bevonden en kwam eenige
oogenblikken later bij zijn vriend terug, die het panorama, dat dit hooge
uitzichtspunt bood, naar alle windrichtingen bewonderde.

„Kom mee, Charly, ik heb je hulp noodig!”

En toen de jongere kameraad aanstalten maakte om zijn

gereedschapsbak op te nemen, beval hij verder:

„Neen, laat maar staan! Ik heb den mijne daar al neergezet en dat is
voldoende.”

Als altijd, gehoorzaamde Charly onmiddellijk en volgde hij zijn vriend

naar de plek tusschen twee der schoorsteenen, waar de ruwhouten bak
met werktuigen inderdaad reeds stond.

„Help mij eens even, deze zinkplaat los te maken, boy! Hier, neem
dezen beitel!” sprak de Groote Onbekende.

Charly ging naast zijn vriend op de knieën liggen en zag nu, nadat
Raffles hem erop had attent gemaakt, hoe een der zinken platen, die
juist tusschen de beide schoorsteenen pasten, eenige centimeters
hooger was aangebracht dan de andere.

De beide mannen zetten hun werktuigen onder de zware plaat, maar

reeds bij de geringste inspanning bewoog het geheele vierkante
zinkdeksel en een oogenblik later hadden zij dit van zijn plaats
genomen.

Een zacht fluitend geluid kwam van de lippen van den Grooten
Onbekende, toen hij onder de opening, die nu was ontstaan, een houten
trap zag, die slechts uit weinig treden bestond.

Ook Charly had zich nieuwsgierig over den rand heengebogen en

fluisterend sprak hij:

„Bah, wat een vuile rommel!”

Raffles beduidde hem om niet te spreken en zwijgend keek het tweetal
in hun geknielde houding in de ruimte, die daar onder hen lag.

Het was een klein, vierkant vertrek, een zolderkamertje, dat geen enkel
venster bezat en waar dus volslagen duisternis meest heerschen, doch
dat nu voldoende verlicht werd door het geopende luik. De ruwe houten
trap die slechts een zestal treden bevatte, verbond het met het dak.

Op de trap, evenals op alles, wat zich in het kamertje bevond, lag een
dikke laag stof en vuil. Het vertrek was gevuld met allerlei rommel,
voornamelijk kisten [17]en manden. Daartusschen lagen in groote
wanorde leege wijnflesschen, een paar stukken verminkt
kinderspeelgoed en eenige, met zwaar touw bijeen gebonden, stapels
oude kranten.

Een deur, die toegang moest geven tot het andere gedeelte van den
zolder, was van binnen gesloten door middel van een kram in den muur;
de ketting en het slot waren zeer roestig.

De muren van de kamer waren van hout, dat niet eens geschilderd was.

„Mijn bak, Charly!” sprak Raffles op fluisterenden toon.

En Charly zette de gereedschapsbak van zijn vriend vlak bij dezen neer.

Van onder de gewone werktuigen, zooals loodgieters en zinkbewerkers

die gebruiken, haalde de Groote Onbekende een vergrootglas te
voorschijn. Toen onderzocht hij met dien sterken loupe de onzindelijke
treden van het houten trapje en, met een vergenoegde uitdrukking op
het gelaat, sprak hij, terwijl hij reeds weer met beide handen een der
zijden van het luik omklemde:

„Pak aan, Charly!”

„Weer sluiten?” vroeg deze.

„Ja!”
Onhoorbaar sloten zij den toegangsweg naar het kleine rommelkamertje
weer af.

Vragend keek Charly zijn vriend en meester aan.

„Al klaar, Edward?” informeerde hij.

„Voorloopig wel, mijn jongen,” klonk het korte antwoord.

„Gaan we alweer naar beneden?”

„Neen, dàt nog niet! We zullen zelfs nog urenlang hier moeten blijven,
want eerst vanavond kunnen we verder met ons werk vorderen.”

„Dat wordt een gezellige boel! Wat zullen we zoolang hier boven
uitvoeren?”

„Wachten en rooken en straks een stukje eten!”

„Rooken en eten.…..” herhaalde Charly meesmuilend, „Ja, jij hebt goed

praten. Hoe wil je hier aan sigaren en proviand komen?”

„Daar is voor gezorgd, boy!

„Maar nòg niet, eerst moet er nog gewerkt worden. Luister eens,
Charly,” vervolgde de Groote Onbekende, terwijl hij op het groote luik,
waardoor zij naar boven waren gekomen, ging zitten.

En toen sprak hij met gedempte stem:

„Eerst vanavond, als de duisternis is ingevallen, kunnen we daar ginds

verder werken. We moeten ons echter den schijn geven, alsof we
intusschen hier bezig zijn. Begin daarom, een paar zinkreepen
gedeeltelijk los te maken. Je hebt dan bezigheid. Hier, steek onderwijl
eens op!” lachte hij en hij haalde uit zijn donkerblauwe werkkiel een
handvol van Charly’s fijne Havanna’s te voorschijn.
„Bewaar ze zelf maar onder je boezeroen, dan kun je rooken zooveel je
verkiest!”

Onder het genot van zijn geliefkoosden sigaar begon Charly nu uiterst
langzaam een deel van het zink-bekleedsel op zoodanige wijze los te
maken, dat het met geringe moeite weer in zijn oorspronkelijken
toestand terug gebracht kon worden.

Raffles, die op het vierkante zolderluik was blijven zitten, liet de eene
sigaret na de andere in rook opgaan en keek peinzend naar de zon, die
al lager en lager aan den hemel daalde.

Zwijgend had Charly zich reeds geruimen tijd beziggehouden met het
bewerken van het zink. Af en toe richtte hij zich halverwege op uit zijn
knielende houding om een blik te werpen op het gelaat van zijn vriend,
maar als hij dan zag, hoe Edward, steeds in gedachten verdiept,
blijkbaar geen notitie van zijn tegenwoordigheid nam, vervolgde hij
zuchtend zijn nutteloos werkje.

Een knagend gevoel in zijn maag herinnerde hem eraan, dat de tijd,
waarop hij gewend was te dineeren, waarschijnlijk lang reeds was
aangebroken.

Zijn horloge had hij bij de verkleedpartij thuis gelaten en

ongelukkigerwijze kon hij van hier uit niet op de klok van het Paleis voor
Volksvlijt zien.

Enfin, dat gaf toch niets, Edward had immers gezegd, dat ze nog
urenlang op het dak moesten blijven?

Maar zijn maag jeukte!

Naar beneden gaan om in een winkel iets te halen?

Doch neen, hij mocht de opmerkzaamheid der bewoners van het huis,
op welks dak zij werkten, niet trekken. Neen, Edward had gelijk! Rustig
hier blijven, tot de arbeid afgeloopen was.
Had hij het maar geweten, dan had hij van te voren wel gezorgd, een
kleine versnapering bij zich te hebben.…..

„Charly, heb je nog geen honger?” klonk hem plotseling de stem van zijn
vriend in de ooren.

Met een zuurzoeten glimlach op het blozende gelaat richtte de jonge

secretaris van Lord Lister zich op.

Hij keek zijn vriend in de donkere, guitig lachende oogen en

antwoordde:

„Als een wolf, Edward! Ik zou op het oogenblik [18]heel wat willen geven
voor een eenvoudigen biefstuk met aardappelen.”

„Dat komt van het harde werken in de buitenlucht!” lachte Raffles weer.
„Kom naast me zitten, Charly, dan zullen we eerlijk samen deelen.”

Bij deze woorden legde Raffles de gereedschappen uit zijn houten bak
op een hoopje naast zich neer en tilde toen een plank op, die als een
dubbele bodem was aangebracht onder in den bak.

Voor Charly’s verbaasde en begeerige blikken vertoonden zich nu een in

vieren gevouwen servet, toen Raffles ook dit had verwijderd, uitte Charly
een kreet van verrassing.

Op kleine bordpapieren schaaltjes lagen daar allerlei eetwaren, die er in

de oogen van den hongerigen Charly, verlokkender uitzagen dan het
fijnste diner, dat oude James voor hem kon opdisschen.

Sneden malsche rostbief, stukken koude kip en een stapeltje dunne

boterhammetjes en daarnaast eenige halve flesschen wijn. En zelfs voor
een paar vorken en messen had Edward gezorgd!

„Maar dat is verrukkelijk!” riep Charly uit. „Een pic-nic in de

avondschemering op het dak!”
En schaterlachend begon hij zich aan de eetwaren te goed te doen.

„Je zult het zonder glas moeten stellen,” sprak Lord Lister, die naast
Charly zat en het zich, evenals deze, goed liet smaken. „Maar we
hebben weleens vaker de flesch aan den mond gezet, nietwaar, boy?
Nu kun je straks nog een lekkere „after-dinner” van me krijgen, want ook
die heb ik meegenomen. Hoe heb ik nu voor je gezorgd, Charly?”

„Als een vaderlijk vriend en weldoener. Neen, als een moeder bijna!”
sprak de jonge secretaris op gemaakt ernstigen toon.

De laatste overblijfselen van den kouden maaltijd waren verdwenen, en

Lord Lister zei, terwijl hij alweer een sigaret had opgestoken:

„Charly, ruim jij nu het eetservies en ons tafelzilver op!”

Charly borg alles weer op den bodem van de gereedschapsbak en

legde de werktuigen en gereedschappen van zijn makker weer op het
plankje, dat juist in de bak paste.

De zon was nu van den hemel verdwenen en de schemering begon te

vallen.

In een grijsachtig licht lagen de huizen der groote stad daar vóór hem;
de westelijke hemel was zachtrood getint, welke kleur naar het oosten
langzaam overging in lila en grijsblauw.

Het water van den Amstel lag stil en onbewogen en als een reusachtige
slang, die roerloos ligt, zoo strekte de rivier zich uit tot ver buiten de
stad, tusschen de groene weiden, totdat zij aan den horizon scheen
samen te smelten met den grijzen avondhemel, waaraan zich reeds de
smalle zilveren maansikkel vertoonde.

Op het dak van het groote, oude huis, waarin de familie Harringa
woonde, waren in den donkeren avond twee mannen aan den arbeid.
Zwijgend lichtten zij het luik, dat tusschen de beide schoorsteenen was
aangebracht, uit de opening.

Toen gleden zij geruischloos langs de smalle, met stof bedekte trap naar
beneden.

Het was in de kleine rommelkamer nu volslagen donker, doch de oudste

der beide loodgieters haalde uit een zijner diepe broekzakken een
electrische lantaarn te voorschijn en op hetzelfde oogenblik viel een
heldere lichtbundel in het sombere vertrek.

Plank voor plank onderzocht John C. Raffles nu de vier muren van het
kamertje en aandachtig luisterde hij naar het geluid, dat zijn kloppen op
het ruwe hout teweeg bracht.

Eindelijk vond hij in een der hoeken, die hij slechts had kunnen bereiken
door zich een weg te banen over kistjes en manden, een plek, waar het
geluid holler klonk.

Weer werd het vergrootglas te voorschijn gehaald en eenige minuten

later had de Groote Onbekende gevonden, wat hij zocht.

Voorzichtig drukte hij op een bijna onzichtbare, smalle veer, die in de

kier tusschen twee planken was aangebracht en plotseling opende zich
een deur in den houten muur.

De deur draaide naar buiten open en bij het heldere licht der electrische
zaklantaarn zag Lord Lister eenige steenen treden, in den muur van het
huis uitgehouwen.

Een glans van genoegen was op het fijne gelaat van den Grooten
Onbekende verschenen.

Even keerde hij zich om naar Charly, die in de opening van het dakluik
was blijven zitten, de beenen langs de vuile houten trap naar beneden
bengelend.