Sion the boats man

Inside his little workshop, bearded shoemaker Amde Sion contemplates the jobs at hand. Scattered about the room is an interesting jumble of scraps of leatherette, compressed cardboard and sheets of PVC soling materials. Leaning in one corner are rolls of the same; immediately above that are shelves of “boot lasts”, specially shaped wooden forms of the human foot in as many sizes and styles that you can imagine. And yes, there are Carnival boots galore, in all colours and sizes. Like a dreadlocked and bearded Carnival Santa (minus local elves) Sion is hard at work making Carnival boots (or as he says, “mas boots”) for the masqueraders. The finished products are kept in another room (some of these even sport tags bearing their owner’s names), keeping company with weaved baskets, bags and (surprise, surprise!) bottles of pepper sauce.

My first thought was that Sion was behind schedule. With Carnival just days away and revellers needing footwear, how come there were so few pairs out? “These boots here are for the masqueraders,” Sion explained with a large and cheeky grin. “Masqueraders eh? Not bandleaders. You see, if the bandleader would come to me and say, ‘I am Mr Poison, we have 12,000 people in the band and I would like 9,000 pairs of boots’, we craftsmen would be all right, but ‘Mr Poison’ doesn’t do that. So, these are for the people who are masqueraders, not players. It have ‘players’ and ‘masqueraders’ (he winked)... masqueraders dress from head to toe, players put on sneakers.”

That clarified, he happily began soling a pair of golden boots, pressing the tacked boot to a length of the rubber soling material, which was spread with a special glue (of his own creation) that was dry to the touch. This he tap-tap-tapped with a small flat mallet, then cut off the excess. (Sion didn’t even need to measure how much soling he had to discard.) In reply to my question of how long he’s been in the trade, he simply said, “All mih life.” “More from a teenager to my adult life, you could say. I started off making sandals, taking an idea from someone who worked with George Bailey, so is since back then. At the moment, I am a proper shoemaker who does not have a business, because everybody goes to the shop to buy shoes. (I’m talking on behalf of all craftsmen.) Basically in TT and the Caribbean what happens is the craftspeople are at the bottom of the ladder, because we don’t have our own factories or situations where we can employ at lot of people to really do the best we can... to supply TT and the Caribbean with shoes. We at the bottom of the ladder and we have sacrificed about 30 years of our lives making a contribution to the culture of TT, and unfortunately we are not well off, so to speak, yuh know?”

But his sacrifice was borne with reverence, tinged with a touch of resignation. Twenty years ago, shoemakers like him would have made slightly more money; a pair of boots cost $40 then. But it meant working for a bandleader (for over 16 hours a day) who paid the shoemaker a small salary; they weren’t making money as a business person. “It wasn’t easy for us, nuh,” Sion said, putting the boot down. “I’m not talking for myself as a shoemaker, but for everybody who works in the mas industry. So pelau, rum, roti... that was your salary along with a meagre stipend to go home with. In order for craftspeople to survive, if some of us didn’t go overseas, we would not be alive in TT. We would have to work with CEPEP, who doesn’t offer training to do the craft we do. They don’t offer training and opportunities to learn the whole business procedure, like how to price your product, how to evaluate, how to speak to people... Whoever has training are those who train themselves and have some ‘broughtupsy’ in dealing with people, because you could have education and no ‘broughtupsy,’ eh?” (He laughed at his own joke).

He went on to talk about the faithful customers who still patronise his Woodbrook shop, children who grew up in mas and wore his boots, continuing to do so as adults. They are the lucky ones. Making a boot is a customised job, beginning with drawing the foot and taking measurements. Then it’s a matter of finding out how high they want the boot, the heel and whether it’s a platform, wedge or a regular boot. The weight of the costume they carry is also taken into consideration. And yes, the boots are very comfortable; if needed, an insole or Dr Sholl’s foot insert can be used. According to Sion, an artist would understand that a character uses a particular type of boot and would construct to suit that. Many masqueraders have fallen victim to hustlers with shoddy construction methods. “The same way it have ‘players’ and ‘masqueraders’, it has ‘hustlers’ and ‘artists’,” said Sion with another wink. “These hustlers, they just hurry and build a shoe quick, quick, brrp! brrp! and they done with that. So whilst the masquerader going up the road, the boot separates. What happened over the years too, bandleaders lost faith in craftsmen because of those shoddy jobs, so they made it difficult for the real artists. Now we can’t blame them wholly and solely, because even the glue isn’t as strong as long time.

I have to make up my own concoction with one or two different types in order to come with a potency strong enough to take pressure. When the Englishman was running Dunlop and Evo-Stik it was good, but as soon as we locals took it over...” he said, shaking his head. But Sion isn’t worried too much about his survival. He still gets some work for the season, mostly from curious tourists and the faithful. But deep down, he’s afraid that no one wants to continue the trade (his daughter wants to become a lawyer and engineer).

He can’t even get the younger guys to work as apprentices. “I mean it’s hard, very hard,” he said sadly. “All them young people want to make a quick dollar. When I tell a young fella that I could pay him a little $350 or possibly a $500 for the week or so, he find that too small. That same young fella will go and look for a Timberland boots to buy costing him $1000. It’s just wrong to me, idealising another’s lifestyle to the extent it’s making yours disappear. I live in a country that produces mas, but yet has cheerleaders in schools. Why must we follow the USA? When millions of people on the Eastern Parkway look on at the Trinidadian product which is Carnival, it’s unbelievable, they are in awe. Every mas camp in this country should be a business, exporting mas, but no, they following the USA with something that is ridiculous... we adopting attitudes that sicken, man. The culture suffering. Think about the amount of people that could be employed in Carnival year-round, from cooking food to sticking feathers. We have a billion-dollar industry right under our noses, but like we eh seeing it, man.” But he is not giving up. You can find him at 13 Mc Donald Street, Woodbrook, or give him a call at 624-5328... and mention the pepper sauce!