Collection of Adrian Camps-Campins
The story of Trinidad Carnival is really many stories, and there’s no end of ways to tell them.
There is the story of the 18th-century French planters who introduced masked pre-Lenten balls to the island, and of the African slaves who parodied their masters’ revels in song and dance. There is the story of the celebrations that broke out at the end of slavery in 1838, spontaneous assertions of freedom that worried the upper classes in their grand houses. Every year, these celebrations were recreated with noisy disorder, more than a hint of the subversive, and, occasionally, violence; later in the 19th century, confrontations with the police (culminating in the infamous Canboulay Riots of 1881) and furious press campaigns almost led to a complete cancellation of the annual Carnival festivities.
But most revellers channelled their energy into creativity: characters like the bat, the pierrot grenade, the midnight robber, and the devil — many of them deliberately mocking or threatening — evolved from the early parodies, informed by ancestral memories of rituals and rhythms that survived forced removal from Africa. Alongside these characters, “pretty mas” — the masquerade of attractive, colourful costumes — also thrived. Around the turn of the century, the first prizes for costumed bands were sponsored by the merchants of Port of Spain, and the festival slowly grew more respectable.
Traditional “Fancy Indians”
Collection of Adrian Camps-Campins
The Victory Carnival of 1919, celebrating the end of the First World War, was the first to include a competition at the Queen’s Park Savannah, which was to become Carnival’s centre stage. In the 1920s and 30s the first bands designed on historical and biblical themes appeared, with names like Good Samaritans, Philistine Warriors, and Sultans of Jerusalem. With their lavish costumes and attempts to present a truly theatrical event, they were precursors of the work of legends like George Bailey and Harold Saldenah.
Yet during these years Carnival remained a divided phenomenon. While thousands of masqueraders took over the streets of Port of Spain, the upper classes continued to enjoy elaborate costume balls at private homes and at the Trinidad Country Club. When they ventured out on Carnival Monday and Tuesday it was in decorated lorries, from which Trinidad’s elite, dressed as Arthurian or Elizabethan courtiers, waved down at the crowds.
Between 1941 and 1945, at the height of the Second World War, Carnival was suspended. When the festival finally returned, things had changed. Masks, banned during the war, had mostly disappeared; the numbers of spectators and revellers had increased; and costumes inspired by tales from history and literature were mor. . .
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