Lyrics from calypsonians like words from politicians

What must have obviously irked Ronald John was the way the calypsonians were virtually eulogising the leader of the attempted coup, Abu Bakr, and making light of the suffering inflicted on the hostages in the parliamentary chamber. More than that, they were seeking to "rationalise" the conduct and motivation of the insurgents who had not only thumbed their noses at our democracy and kicked it in the teeth but were quite willing to go the distance and trample it under foot.

Speaking for myself, I had already heard the calypsos on the air but I went to the tent to see and hear for myself the audience reactions — and was sorely disappointed to see how cavalierly people could respond to the trivalising of traumatic events that once had the nation on its knees in prayer and earnestly hoping for a speedy and favourable outcome.

This affront to and despoliation of our parliament drew widespread condemnation here and abroad. As an aside, I’m tempted to think that if the playwright was so upset over the calypsonians’ "show of sympathy for Bakr and his fellow insurgents," he might also have ‘burst a blood vessel" if he, indeed, knew of unchallenged reports that Patrick Manning one of the Opposition leaders, at the time, claimed that "the issue was between PM ANR Robinson and Abu Bakr."

Basdeo Panday the other Opposition leader, with characteristic flippancy, continues to maintain that he was awakened by his wife but went back to sleep, having told her to "wake him up when it’s all over." Of course, he thought she was only joking. If Panday has ever unequivocally condemned the attempted coup and commiserated with ANR Robinson for pain and torment that he (Robinson) must have suffered then I’ll thank anyone who can draw this to my attention. With champions like the above, democracy needs no enemies.

But politics being what it is and politicians being what they are, I never cease to be mystified by their shenanigans. Now, I don’t expect you to believe that Mr Basdeo Panday subsequently became Prime Minister with the willing assistance of Mr Raymond Robinson and they "lived happily thereafter." Incidentally, the coup leader was among the first to be favoured with an audience by the Panday administration that included Robinson as Minister Extraordinaire.

Fool that I am, I shouldn’t be expected to understand the obviously intricate machinations of the "political mind." So I feel on safer ground returning to Ronald John’s concerns about "calypsonian ignorance being promoted as wisdom."

An evidently indignant Mr John claimed that "calypsonians had managed to sell themselves as philosophers and educators." Only calypsonians, Mr John? You’d be surprised! Addressing "Mr and Mrs John Public," the playwright emphatically stated that, in his opinion, this is definitely not so. Certainly not to the extent that they’d have us believe. Said John, "Calypsonians, at their best, are good at satire, humour, picong, social commentary. At their worst, they are composers of child-like nonsensical lyrics."

Mr John suggested that due to the limitations of their art and the limits of their learning even our best calypsonians cannot be expected to present us with profound insights on the human condition. Mr John’s notion re the artiste and his artform need not be cast in stone, as an insightful Albert Gomes — an early champion of calypso and calypsonians — suggested that calypso awaits its own Shakespeare to give it that form and shape which would take it to greater heights.

If I might add my own little bit to this, I should think that such an individual should be blessed with musical, poetic and clairvoyant gifts. I may be getting out of my depth here, but, unless I’m mistaken, David Rudder’s "1990" may approximate such expectation.

Now, as far as anticipating a major event, Gabby’s "Boots, boots, and more boots ... marching, frightening army boots" with its martial-like tempo came as close as possible to anticipating the murderous turn of events in Grenada when the ‘revo" self-destructed in an orgy of blood. Yes, yes, I know that Gabby got his cue from an earlier minor eruption in St Vincent.

Incidentally, Mr Gomes — battling his way "through a maze of colour" — was subsequenlty to receive harsh and unfair treatment at the hands of calypsonians whose myopic visison prevented them from seeing him as "one of the boys." And that’s putting it mildly.

They couldn’t recognise one of their benefactors. Says something about the much-heralded social and political perspicacity, doesn’t it?

John’s tacit assumption that there are inevitable limitations on the artform and the artiste is worth noting, but one ought to recognise that the calypso has its own idiom, diction and cadence which could be blended and fine-tuned by towering talents in the field. In any case, as even eminent rationalists like Descartes and Pascal concede, there is a logic of the heart that sometimes transcends the logic of the mind.

It follows then that the finest outpourings of the human spirit are not necessarily the exclusive preserves of the best learned and finest minds.

Even so, it’s not enough to say that something has come from the heart. There’s no reason that calypsos which emanate from the heart cannot pass within "nodding distance" of the brain.