Under a barely-lit night sky, a star was born on stage, while a calypsonian’s legacy was re-ignited. Trinidadian-born, UK-based writer Anthony Joseph delivered a stellar performance as part of the book launch of his novel Kitch on April 27. The Big Black Box was the venue for a roster of imminent and emergent writers. But it was Anthony Joseph who stole the show.
Endorsed by the NGC Bocas Lit Fest, Joseph’s novel did more than focus the spotlight on his artistic voice, it also redirected attention to the larger-than-life figure who embodied the lived experience of a generation, and whose personality invigorated a nation.
I’m referring to the late Grandmaster, the calypsonian known as Lord Kitchener, Aldwyn Roberts. Joseph’s text is a masterclass. I do not think a Trinidadian novel has ever made a single artist the sole focus of its literary illustration. It is appropriate that Lord Kitchener is the first.
Born in 1922, Kitchener’s musical consciousness had been unavoidably informed by the colonial experience. He lived through colonialism, post-colonialism, post-war independence, and was on the cusp of early Trinidadian modernism. Kitchener personified the rise and development of the Trinidad and Tobago nation-state. Arima, Belmont, Port of Spain and Diego Martin are a few of the places captured in the novel that, together with uniquely Trinidadian expressions such as “it have a zwill in the madbull tail,” “jagabat,” and “vaps,” reinforce the voice and setting that Kitch portrays.
This artist, who defined a generation with his musical magnificence, was given fresh life on a night that celebrated music as much as the written word. Kitch was a fitting headliner that did not disappoint. And given the recent controversial statements made about the Windrush generation, it was timely.
Joseph was prophetic in describing the uncertainties and insecurities faced by the Windrush batch of migrants: “And when you land in the mother country, who you is to the English? You don’t know if you coming or going, you papers say England but you born in Trinidad, and you not of the place you reaching yet – and when you reach you is a immigrant.”
Lord Kitchener left Trinidad in 1948 aboard the MV Empire Windrush to go to the UK. Joseph paid special tribute to Kitchener’s role as part of that generation. Describing the moment the ship docks in England, an extract reads: “But he stands here now, on the wooden jetty, upright in England, the land he had imagined for so long.”
A few lines later, ‘Kitch’ delivers one of his most famous pieces, upon request by the reporter, which Joseph captures down to even the calypsonian’s mannerisms:
“Now, may I ask you your name?”
“Lord Kitchener.”
“Lord Kitchener. Now I’m told that you are really the king of calypso singers, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Well, now can you sing for us?”
“Yes.”
“London is the place for me”
(mimics the upright, wood bass)
“London, this lovely city”
(the right shoulder rises, the beat turns down)
“You can go to France or America
India, Asia or Australia
But you must come back to London city.”
Accompanied by live music and vocals of Kitchener’s classic, “London is the place for me,” Joseph was met with thunderous applause.
The author’s extensive craft as a poet brings a unique rhythm and style that makes the reverence of Lord Kitchener’s characterisation in the novel leap off the page. This is not your typical work of fiction, or biography. In fact, the subtitle of the novel – a fictional biography – sets readers up for a promising journey into the life of Lord Kitchener that is enhanced with Joseph’s poetic prose. Interwoven in the text are lyrical interludes which evoke the nostalgia and musical genius associated with the almost mythological persona of Kitchener.
Part of Joseph’s creative brilliance is that most of what readers learn of Kitch is filtered from the community of people around him. In this way the myth-making of Kitch is sustained. In fact, the calypsonian does very little speaking in the novel, which paradoxically increases his presence and impact further because different people all have their say on what Kitch meant to them..
The novel’s chapters are divided into three broad sections that trace the development of the legendary calypsonian: “Bean,” “Lord Kitchener” and “The Grandmaster.” Each sub chapter is a personal account of the impact Kitch has had on the people describing him. The calypsonian’s influence through music is summed up in the section titled “Centipede, June 1948:” “Fellas does feel sweet when Kitchener open he throat to sing. Long as he singing, we feel safe; we eh go dead.”
“The Road” describes him further: “But Kitch, like he put something else in that song. What it is? I don’t know much about Africa, but if you listen you could hear like people beating big African drum with bone in there.”
As a child of the nineties I did not understand how significant the life and career of Lord Kitchener was to Trinidad in particular, and the Caribbean in general, but Anthony Joseph’s performance that night was something special. The entire audience, young and old, was captivated by the gravity of Joseph’s literary project. I myself was so overwhelmed with pore-raising, lump-in-throat, emotions following the performance that I was compelled to give Joseph a standing ovation (as did other members of the audience). For a brief moment, Lord Kitchener was reincarnated on stage and I was able to share in the legendary individual who will forever be immortalised by Kitch.
Anthony Joseph has hit a gold mine as it concerns in-depth biographical explorations of Caribbean icons through fiction. It is my hope that similar writings will be undertaken to shine light on other artists who shared the generation with our very own Kitch.
Jarrel De Matas is a postgraduate student, M.A. Literatures in English, at The UWI St. Augustine campus. |
