The origins of Trinidad Carnival lie in a unique interaction between Africa and Europe. It dates back to the 1780s and the arrival of French Catholic planters who carried on the ritual of European carnival on Trinidad shores. They staged elaborate masquerade balls at Christmas and as a “farewell to the flesh” before the Catholic Lenten season. Their enslaved Africans had their own masking traditions, and held festivities around the burning and harvesting of the sugar cane (this was known as cannes bruleés, anglicised as Canboulay). For each group, masks and mimicry were an essential part of the ritual.
 

After the emancipation of slaves in 1838, Canboulay became a symbol of freedom and defiance. In response, the British colonial government outlawed drumming, stickfighting, masquerading, African-derived religions, and even tries to suppress the steelpan – but was never able to stamp out what has become a hallmark of Trinidadian identity.

 

They call it the soca switch. It used to be from Boxing Day (the day after Christmas) that radio stations across the islands would switch from Christmas music (or whatever they were playing) to Carnival music. But these days, with Carnival band launchings starting as early as July, and soca artists unveiling their big Carnival tunes months before at carnivals in the diaspora, it seems that Carnival is ever-present.
 

Nevertheless, it’s after Christmas that Carnival fêtes featuring the biggest soca stars begin in earnest. The radio and television airwaves are dominated by the latest soca and pan tunes, while would-be masqueraders embark on gruelling fitness regimens to build up their stamina and physiques for the wining season.
 

This is also when the competitions begin for steelbands, calypsonians, soca singers, limbo dancers, stickfighters, costume designers, traditional Carnival characters, and Carnival Kings and Queens. These showcase the best practitioners of our Carnival arts.

 

The excitement builds the week before Carnival, with wall-to-wall fêtes, events and competitions.
 

Early on “Fantastic Friday” morning, stickfighters, moko jumbies and a cast of actors and dancers descend on east Port of Spain to re-enact the Canboulay Riots. In the early afternoon, traditional Carnival characters take the spotlight in Port of Spain. And as 9pm hits, some of the biggest soca stars begin to vie for the Soca Monarch crowns.
 

The streets belong to the children on Carnival Saturday for Kiddies Carnival at the Savannah; some of the finest costume designs are seen right there. Once night falls, steelbands clash at Panorama, the greatest showcase for the instrument anywhere in the world.
 

Sunday – Dimanche Gras – is reserved for two of the hallmarks of Carnival: the breathtaking costumes of would-be Kings and Queens of Carnival, and the race for the Calypso Monarch crown.

 

Monday morning means J’Ouvert, the element of Carnival that has most retained its subversive roots. Before dawn, thousands of people chip and slither through the streets of the country’s cities, covered in paint, grease and mud, alongside traditional Carnival characters like jab jabs, blue devils, bats, and those in outrageous “ole mas” costumes.
 

Once the sun comes up on Carnival Monday, most stagger into bed to sleep off the high (natural or induced). Around noon the action picks up again as thousands flock into Port of Spain and other cities to meet their bands or just to soak up the atmosphere. Others venture up into the Northern Range to experience some of the most authentic blue devil mas in the hills of Paramin (just remember to “pay de devil”).
 

By 8am on Tuesday morning, most masqueraders are already up in search of their bands. Spectators arrive early at judging points to watch the bands pass, and make their own assessments as to who should win the coveted Band of the Year and Road March titles.
 

Some don’t make it through the day, flaking out by early afternoon. Others go right through till Last Lap, arriving home in the wee hours of Wednesday morning.

 

Neither Carnival Monday or Tuesday are official holidays, nor is Ash Wednesday. But that doesn’t stop Trinis from flocking to the island’s beaches or across to Tobago for a customary “cool-down”, to rest aching bodies and cool stinging sun-burn…eager to do it all again!