No escape from the Warlord

January 26, 2005
By Bukka Rennie

First I must apologise for a critical faux-pas that appeared in the last column of January 21. I wish to apologise profusely to the extended family, relatives and friends of Aubrey Christopher for the pain, trauma and embarrassment caused by the reference to his passing. I am indeed gladdened to let the general public know that Aubrey Christopher of the once famous Kay Recording Company is today very much alive. He is 96 years old, his daughter Kay informed me.

I also take this opportunity to retract the entire statement attributed to Christopher that also appeared in the said column. The third-party provider of that bit of information in relation to the calypso Jean and Dinah could not provide evidence to substantiate it.

What this suggests to me is the utmost importance in doing reportage of pan and calypso history that folklore and mythology, though enriching in terms of rooting the stories, must be clearly distinguished from fact that can be verified by probably at least three distinct sources. Such a process is painstaking but worthwhile.

At the same time the lore and myths cannot be ignored as they infuse the stories with life at another level. At this point it is essential to get back to Blakie.

Living up to the title "Warlord" seemed as natural to Blakie's demeanour as would a breath of fresh air. People like himself and Sparrow were to reflect both in song and in lifestyle a new militant consciousness, an independent, fearless stance that told you that they would countenance no nonsense, especially anything that could even be remotely interpreted as compromising to their sense of manhood.

There was a session at Dr Oswin Rose's home in Macqueripe, at which Blakie, Nap Hepburn, Relator, Teddy Pinheiro, myself and others were present, and during that evening I can remember Nap saying to Blakie, "Yuh did really like badjohn calypso!" And Blakie laughed his usual wicked laugh in response.

That was his way of saying that he was no respecter of established status-quo, no respecter of man or god in authority, no respecter of even the bad men who lay claim to rule the streets.

Dr Eric Williams, the then Prime Minister, was a special target of Blakie in songs such as The Doctor ent Dey, in which he dealt humorously with the absenteeism of political leadership, and at the end sought even more facetiously to expose Williams's penchant for Chinese women while proclaiming in turn his own similar affinity.

But even more poignant is the calypso in which he paints Williams as a smart, unscrupulous card-playing shark outsmarting both opposition members and colleagues alike:

Capildeo put a five, Sukeran put a five/but that wasn't all/Solomon put a five but the Premier ent put at all/So the two opposition arguing with Solo-mon/Put up a five look to make it right/The Premier say I go take back my five before it end up in fight...

It is only because of the poetic licensees the art form of calypso had eked out for itself over time and which by then had become accepted tradition that a Blakie could be saved from the wrath of the politically powerful for such open ridicule.

Probably his most blistering attack on the establishment came when Carnival was postponed on the grounds of a polio outbreak. Blakie, in one of his better structured calypsoes, would tell the population the real reason as intimated to him by his grandfather:

Blakie dat is trick/Nobody din sick/It din have no damn epidemic/Since dem soldiers' affair/Some gun disappear/And up to now dey ent find it/Dey was expecting a upheaval inside de Carnival/So dey postpone de show/And tell stupid allyuh/Dat it have polio...

And Blakie would add at the end these now famous punch lines:

But the Police Commissioner/Allow Hosay and Pagwa/Me old, me ent know/ But it look as if though/Only Negro getting polio...

Even opposition leaders were to feel the weight of the fearlessness of the Warlord. Who else but him would dare to tell Granger, then the most popular and beloved leader of the people's mass movement that rose up against the Williams Government, the following:

Leaders doh bawl Granger/ Stand yuh grind partner/Like we Butler/For he was a leader too/And he get more pressure than you/And he didn't bawl/So Granger doh bawl at all...

Dagga, previously Granger, certainly did not "bawl" so it was unfair criticism that made most of us livid at the time. While interviewing Jim Bharrat, the famous working-class hero of the 1930s and '40s, he informed me that Butler at one time had a relationship with Blakie's mother, so that may very well explain the "we Butler" endearment and Blakie's obvious bias in his comparison of the two leaders.

Similarly, it was Blakie who took on ANR Robinson when he resigned as deputy to Williams and walked away during the 1970 revolt to seek his own political destiny:

Oh, no, no, ANR Robinson yuh too late/I accuse you a traitor against de State/You were there from de start/And you played your part/So whether win or loss/Yuh shouldn't dam de bridge yuh cross...

The power-holders as well as the aspirants to power, none could escape the sharp tongue of the Warlord.

Next week: Blakie and the badjohns

PT I | PT II | PT III