Ella Andall
Photography by Mark Lyndersay

It’s Spiritual Baptist Liberation Day in Trinidad, but instead of taking a day off, Ella Andall is doing what she always does—singing. It’s a 90-minute drive from her home in Arima to the southern town of Rio Claro, where Andall is slated to sing. She’s not sure what the set-up will be, whether there will even be a microphone. So this time, she is keeping it simple—a couple of back-ups, some of her longtime drummers, herself, and her music.

It’s not always like that. Over the more than 35 years she has been in the music business, she has sung in Europe, Africa, and throughout the Americas—in intimate spiritual ceremonies, theatres, concert halls, sports stadiums and everything in between. She’s performed for the Dalai Lama, Winnie Mandela, inspirational writer Iyanla Vanzant, spiritual leader the Ooni of Ife, Nelson Mandela, and Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo, and shared the stage with Miriam Makeba.

But her music has always been for and about families, community and identity, and today the music takes her to Rio Claro. When she arrives, her manager, Erica Ashton, calls the organisers from her cell phone. As the musicians and singers get out of the bus to stretch for a moment and use the restroom, there is an announcement and a long, glowing introduction from the community centre across the road: Ella is here!

Andall hasn’t even had a chance to wipe the perspiration from the bridge of her nose before she’s ushered across the street to shrieks of elation from the crowd. People are clapping and waving at Andall, who smiles and laughs as she greets them and heads for the stage.

She has come prepared to sing a fairly standard set of crowd favourites and some chants to the Orisha deities. But Andall is not a mere performer. Each time she sings, and particularly at community events like this, she takes the pulse of the place, and listens to what she is called to sing. Today she begins with chants to Ogun, the Orisha of iron, war and industry. Within minutes, Andall has discarded her shoes—however carefully chosen beforehand—so that she can dance and move freely. The audience are on their feet, clapping, dancing, and singing. The rhythm of the drums pounds in your chest, the clarity and purity of Andall’s voice resonate beneath your skin, and the energy of the moment is irresistible and overpowering. It is as if the entire universe vibrates with her.

She winds down her set amid rapturous applause, descends the stairs and gets a drink of water. But the applause does not stop, and they will not let her leave. They call for Shango. She laughs, knowing that she is seldom allowed to leave a performance without singing her chants to Shango—Orisha of thunder, lighting and fire, the sky father. And as she begins to sing, the manifestations—where an Orisha manifests through, or briefly possesses, or “mounts”, a person’s body—begin. Eyes are closed, or remain open but glazed over. Members of the audience hold fast to those who are manifesting, making sure they do not injure themselves. Some begin to speak in Yoruba. Others begin to move and dance, manifesting the physical characteristics associated with a part. . .

  If you already have an account, please LOGIN HERE
  If you do not have an account, CREATE ONE NOW – FREE! It only takes a few minutes, and you can then:

• Gain instant access to the full online archives of Caribbean Beat and the Caribbean Review of Books
• Manage your subscriptions to Caribbean Beat, ENERGY Caribbean and the Caribbean Review of Books (coming soon — print subscribers only)
• Register for and manage your subscriptions to our newsletters, with the latest news about MEP’s books and magazines, job openings, sales, contests, opportunities to submit your work, and more (coming soon)