‘The king is passing’: <PERSON>, Trinidad & Tobago’s oldest Black Indian masquerader, dies at 94 · Global Voices
Okenaga—Black Indian culture bearer <PERSON> at Victoria Square, Port of Spain, Trinidad, in 2009, taken by <PERSON> as part of her outdoor backdrop project, through which she documented masmakers like <PERSON> and the costumes they made. Used with permission.
To put on face paint and a costume in the context of Trinidad and Tobago Carnival—especially within the realm held by the characters of traditional mas—is to be transformed, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It was a routine metamorphosis for <PERSON>, the country's oldest “Black Indian” masquerader, who passed away at the age of 94 on the evening of January 6, leaving behind a legacy of creation and performance that is hard to match:
<PERSON>… The oldest Black Indian mas player at 91.#traditionalmas #narrieapproo #trinidadandtobago #carnival2018 #intricate #localtalent #passdownthetraditions #keepthetraditionalive #youthpower #respect #photojournal #capturinglife #whatisee #… https://t.co/RXTEzSmJn5 pic.twitter.com/CnXiAvZmlb
— howsiett (@howsiett) February 8, 2018
Portrait of Narrie Approo by <PERSON>, used with permission.
Black Indian mas, which celebrates the many ways in which Indigenous people and Africans banded together throughout the horrors of colonisation, dates back to the 19th century. Through his annual portrayal of this tradition, <PERSON> and his troupe, “Warriors of the Black Tribe”, did yeoman's service in preserving this unique aspect of Trinidad and Tobago's cultural heritage. As a consummate “masman,” he was also skilled at the craft of Carnival creation, making intricately beautiful costumes and papier-mâché masks, some of which are displayed at the Toco Folk Museum on Trinidad's east coast.
Writing for Caribbean Beat magazine, academic <PERSON> noted that Black Indian mas, “the fiercest of the traditional Indian masquerades,” may well have had roots outside Trinidad and Tobago, with <PERSON> himself suggesting links with runaway slaves in the United States who were taken in by Native American communities in the early 1800s—a “cultural intermingling” that came to fruition in New Orleans’ famous Mardi Gras.
<PERSON>—<PERSON> portraying Black Indian in the band ‘The Warriors of Huracán,’ led by <PERSON>. 550
This was <PERSON>'s last performance at Port of Spain's Queen's Park Savannah, in 2018. Photo by <PERSON>, used with permission.
To be an authentic Black Indian, though, was not a matter of external trappings. An integral part of Black Indian masquerade is its own language, sounds and songs, evolving from Indigenous and African languages, the languages of the Spanish, French and English colonisers, and even Hindi, post-emancipation, when plantation owners introduced East Indian indentureship to fill the labour gap. <PERSON> once said this aspect of the mas required commitment and practice: “We always went to the yard to rehearse our performance before we hit the road, and we chanted a prayer in black Indian language asking for strength.”
In photographer <PERSON>’ book “A World of Their Own,” which is an ode to traditional mas, fellow Black Indian masquerader <PERSON> said, “<PERSON> was the Flying Agitan…he's a high grandmaster of language!”
Another key aspect of the mas is its hierarchical structure, with the <PERSON> (king of the band) and <PERSON> (queen) in the leadership positions. Then, almost in military fashion—as documented by <PERSON>—are the Flying Agitan, Wagadaraja, Jeppetok and Jeepnaf­agna, with the Jeeps being the lowest ranking warriors.
<PERSON>—<PERSON> (front) trailed by another member of the Black Indian band ‘Warriors of Huracán,’ on stage at the Queen's Park Savannah, Port of Spain, Trinidad, 2018. Photo by <PERSON>, used with permission. 678