Madamas Mas

And of course, liming in the streets of Port-of-Spain.

The rhythms of the two valleys are different though. From the coast up-- with the surf, the gentle river flows, the rapids and waterfalls, to the wind in the upper valleys — everywhere along the river courses —the rhythm is different.

However, the melody is very much the same, valley to valley. The melody comes in all day long, but it changes slowly during the course of the day as different players awaken to call for their mates—just like Carnival in town? The Bearded Bellbirds wake at dawn, and their clanging call could well be the inspiration for the first “ring of the ‘iron’” on J’Ouvert morning! But it is the flocks of green parrots that follow who cause the neighbourhood, the forest to awaken. As discordant in the sky as green jab-jabs on the streets, the parrots wake up everything which was still asleep — even the flowers start to spread their petals, showing off their costumes to the flighty little jewels darting in and out the band to kiss each spreading bloom! While flowers spread their charms for the myriad humming birds to come in and “wine” on their nectar, higher up— in the canopies—bigger, louder birds arrive to play. A band of Crested Oropendolas—Corn Birds to us— arrive to play their mas’ on one of the kings, a massive immortelle tree, emblazoned in a vermillion coat and moving its costume in the growing wind. From its extended branches hang dozens of the long, swinging nests of the corn birds.

These noisy birds have come to fete, to mate. They display their costumes by turning up their yellow tail feathers and waving their bumsees at their suitors— winin’ back-back just like we humans do on the big stage! And finally, in the birds’ categories—the Toucans! A whole band of them — come flying by, dancing in the sky.

Their huge multi-coloured beaks keeping them off-balance as they look like they might somersault while in flight! Mas players with headpieces a little too heavy to truly dance on stage! But what fancy costumes they wear! They rest on the naked branches of a Balata tree nearby. Band of the day for sure on Monday! Las lap comes early in the forest, and the mournful call of the Tinamou signals the rapid arrival of the night and the silence of the bands.

On Tuesday, to paraphrase Lord Kitchener “Rain came, and mash up mas all day”.

Welcome showers, sweeping up the valley, close behind each other, bring blissful cooling to our land.

But the showers do dampen the colours in the hills, and the greens turn dull instead of sparkling with dew in the sunshine.

And the players, the birds, only come out to display in brief spells while the sun tries to break through. A rainbow appears on stage, and a moko jumbie, playing Banana Tree, arrives to limbo under it! Two Marbleu butterflies come dancing in a sunbeam, the sunlight flashing like strobes off their brilliant blue wings, and they disappear, just ahead of another shower! My mind runs to butterfly mas and of course Minshall’s Papillon, of oh-so-many-years ago. I remember standing in the road at the entrance to the savannah, when they reach (sic), in brilliant sunshine, thousands of human-sized butterflies, with huge gossamer wings through which the sun danced with each butterfly’s flight. Back then they did not chase one off the road like today, so I stood there in wonder watching this mass of mas approach me, envelope me as they pass, I like an old flower to be checked by several, beautiful sparkling butterfly-women who take a wine on me, leave with a smile and move on to mount the stage and perform. It was so moving that I never even turned around when they had all flitted by, to watch them mount the stage and then fly off to another year, another mas, another fantasy. Back to the present and Ash Wednesday dawns with brilliant sunshine, and the forest returns to its own never-ending mas, its colours, its songs, its raucous “jab-jab” parrots, its strangely waving trees, but all with serenity.

Our forests have inspired much of our mas — Minshall and MacWilliams come to mind of course.

And I certainly understand why.

Is there a Ma d a m a s mas in our future?