Finding My Way Back home...

Tonight I stumbled upon a talk show with Peter Minshall, Pat Bishop, Mungal Patasar and Dennis Sprangalang Hall being interviewed by Renee Cummings, and out of the mouths of these stalwarts and giants I found hope and shame all at the same time.

 Hope that such knowledge still existed and could be discussed and conjured and released into the ether, shame that it was being thrown like pearls before a people who, if not yet swine, properly well on our way.

 For a brief moment I fantasized about being back at school and having these four for professors, thinking how enraptured at class I would be, the fountain of learning gushing forth history and promise.

Imagine Minshall having the bold faced temerity to suggest to the nation that children should be taught to read music at the same time they were learning ABC's, so that Wagner could be interpreted on the Harmonium and the sitar and the pan could be integrated into orchestras.

How interpretive dance should be primary school learning so that when we produce 'Soca Warriors' it would mean so much more than just a catchy marketing slogan and would embody the spirit of a people.

 Ahhh, Minsh, if you only know what you did there to this dreamer, this idealist, this romantic.

The vision you conjured for the people were so ethereal, so holy, that it caused Pat to buff you, to tell you that since the last time you bring a mas the mas stop dead.

Imagine Professor Hall chimed in on that, saying that we are a nation of copycats, so development gets stunted in re-invention and mimicry.

Lord Father I was dizzy.

Truth to power?

Please, this was truth to truth.

I know of what they speak; I was alive when Sting Ray pranced onto that savannah stage and stop Trinidad dead in its tracks, only to be eclipsed by the Midnight Robber, then the experiments with grand sails that had everyone else making sails for the next five years, and then Tan Tan and Saga Boy, which caused the rest of them say "ahh fuck it, bring the glue gun and some beads yes."

I wanted to stop people passing by and say "shhh, listen to what is being said here, magic is being woven, listen, you will almost be able to understand what God himself meant."

Mungal Patasar talking about collaborating with Tanker to deconstruct calypso and birth it again with an East indian flavor, and contrast that with the rape of the senses that was the Chutney Soca Monarch tomfoolery and you would need to restrain yourself.

Sprangalang said that the people who in charge like all of them on vacation, that thing looking like what it supposed to be but nothing there and I say yes, I am not alone.

The Professor went on to say how Manning made a fool of everybody with skyscrapers that kill the essence of the country, causing Minshall to chime in how foreign shoes cant be as good as locally made shoes, and if you understood the analogy of giving a woman the right pair of shoes and she could conquer the world you would understand that it is the very identity of a people they were talking about.

Look thing. Patasar said let the young people experiment with the music and Hall ask him how far you prepared to let them go? If music have the ability to soothe the savage beast, we making music that could wake up 'alstation.'

Way sah.

Gih Dem.

How the music in a frenzy, and if that is the rhythm of our nation then our nation in trouble.

They all agreed in the most part that the culture was not being saved or preserved and only what could get money for was developing while the other half dying and I sitting there shaking my head in disgust talking back to the TV like if they could hear me telling them I telling people that long time now.

Pat Bishop said a country that does not know it's own culture deserve a coca cola wake, which was saying in twelve words what I meant when I wrote 'Culture in Yuh Pweffim.'

Minshall said that we cannot find our identity in any 2020 foolishness, how third world don't become first world just so, how the people have to grow into their own expression and the only place to look for us is in us, to which Professor Hall added that from the moment the Trinidad Flag was flown for the first time we were already in trouble and I felt like if I could have paused it I was going to get a drink, this was too much truth to take in and process all at once.

How Christ and Buddha were symbols, not to divide the people, but to inspire them to greatness.

Pat spoke of an understanding of dance from the position of musical interpretation, and all agreed as do i, that our culture is being destroyed by competition, sponsorship and moneytizing.

I switched off when the callers started calling because I selfishly did not want to dilute the seed knowledge I just received with drivel, regardless how good the intention, no disrespect intended.

In my not so humble opinion, when the giants are speaking hush, you might learn something.

I want to thank Renee for assembling this pantheon of experience and I want to ask that this be moved from the confines of a studio and into a classroom and a lecture series of greats.

I would pay all inclusive prices for that.

I came away from this experience bigger, not only did I know more, I dared to take what I now knew and dream it further.

This more than anything is the end result of this sort of experience; That if you drink what is offered, you yourself become transformed, and you not only appreciate your own artisitic self, you believe once more in your own authentic expression.

In every material way I know in my heart that I am an artist, my canvas being words.

I also know (didn't I always though?) that I have been using my canvas with the best of intentions for the wrong purposes for far too long.

This experience, this conversation has inspired me to find my soul again, and I am going to pursue my masterpiece.

I send this into the heavens tonight and hopes it finds each of you - thank you.