Revisiting Swamp Songs

Unruly women with whips? Sounds like my mother, her mother, and as far back as I can go the women in my family would whip anyone with the nearest object at hand. Spatulas, frying pans, sugar canes, machetes, a wet towel, anything. Growing up in the Caribbean instills in one a deep sense of respect for one's elders; especially one's mother. Even when and if a mother participates in carnival, which is similar to Mardi and celebrated all throughout the Caribbean. In Belize, it's just for a day, but Trinidadians go for three days: shiny costumes, dancing, and lots and lots of rum.

Reading about women with whips and masks reminds me of home. Even though the practice of carnival may seem chaotic and ridiculous, it has a very basic logic. Back home, everyone drinks, everyone dances, everyone wants to be a star and carnival presents the opportunity for people (who are very sociable) to share their similarities and sorrows. It gives everyone the opportunity to forget the canals filled with feces and trash. To forget about the women who bawl every night because men lash them, to forget the pickaninnies that constantly beg for shillings--Miss please fi shillin', just shillin' shillin'--at every street corner. Carnival masks the reality, even if it's just one day. Mardi Gras is masking the merciless reality as well; in Swamp Songs Sheryl captures the sweet bitterness that people reveal through their altered selves.