Carnival on Aruba

[charlescroes]

Carnival parades mean so much more than just the parade – they are events or better yet, a happening. How is that for a term we haven’t heard in a while? These parades are a concoction of so many little things that go on to comprise the totality seen by the onlooker. This parade (to me) had four basic elements: (1) the sensuality of the parade. (2) –those in the parade and who consider themselves to be the parade while every thing else is an audience (3) those that stand on the sidelines (feeling that they are the true carnival spirit and that those marching are the dressing to their event and lastly (4) the talent. That is to say – those singing and playing the instruments. And within this last group there is always a super star. Each, by the way, is a valid part of this happy day.

The sensuality of the parade always gets me. It’s in the costumes and in the rhythmic dancing, yet – and this is a big yet; it is an acceptable and different sensuality. It is a releasing of energy into the day and it is something that families can be a part of. Yet, it is sensual – no doubt about it. There are way too many rhythms and sounds reaching out and up to connect to a mid-day sun for this to not be sensuous. It is a feeling that loosens the soul and in the process (if only for the briefest moment) loosens some inhibitions. It makes it possible for grandma and grandpa to dance once again as the parade passes by. Even if it is restricted to movement of the foot and a tapping of the hand while carrying a remembering smile. Dancers both in and out of the parade meet in a unison created by voices, instruments and amplification. Yes – carnival parade is a day of the senses and therefore – sensual.

I like to think of the ones marching as the chameleons of our island. There are the bank tellers that silently take your deposits and the girl at the fast food chain. The medical assistant with cold hands and the lady at the check out counter at the grocery store are also included. The guy that cleans the pool and the carpenter, the mailman and the hairdresser. All are there as performers in this spectacle and each one transformed from their daily life (whatever it may be) to this one day of sensual dancing in the streets. What the heck - tomorrow is another day and it is only once a year – right? Right! Sun parched and sweating dancers come by in their rhythm walk with feathers glued to the arms and legs and wearing costumes that make you wonder how they manage to walk under the weight. These chameleons come out of their daily existence and transform themselves into a vision – or at least a part of a vision. Group after group of swaying and moving humanity pass by as the colors of their costumes make up this grand parade and eventually to bend into each other and create a theme.

The themes per group are amazing: One group will be dressed as tigers with their bodies sprayed or painted orange and with dark brown stripes and fangs or teeth hung around their necks. Some will have a dragging tail, but most don’t. They are followed by African tribes with spears in hand. The next group might have an Egyptian theme while the one following may be something else completely. Color after color and feather after feather, they march by. The carnival music sets the pace for their feet while the sun and its heat sets the pace for the day and the marching and swaying bodies follow that pace blindly.

On the sidelines are the spectators. We sit or stand on the crowded sidelines as best we can. A beer can in most hands while the kids drink soda from plastic cups. Food gets passed around while the rhythm goes on in the streets. While drinking or eating, the swaying rhythm of carnival has infected us all and there is no know cure for this disease, but then again, who wants one. Black ladies walk by selling everything from boiled and roasted peanuts to spray cans with temporary carnival hair color. Hats are the biggy of the day and many have the same themes as the parade. Fathers carry kids on their shoulders to let them see what they can’t while many moms become a part of the swaying that surrounds them.

No one frowns and everyone laughs – why not? It is carnival on Aruba!!

MAKE WAY FOR THE KING says a large sign on one of the trailers. In it or somewhere around it is the famous Claudius Phillips with his portable microphone in hand. My admiration for him is as sincere as it is profound. This very mighty talent somehow comes up with an award winning road marching song year after year that not only makes us all move but somehow touches our realities, even if those realities are temporary carnival ones. His dominance at doing this – year after year is unsurpassed. This year is the same and his song reverberates throughout the streets in a quasi unison that has everyone singing it. (I don’t remember the words myself since a few beers were busy messing with my memory). That said, I still sang – or moved my mouth to sort of sing. He graciously walked the sides of the streets where his fans flocked to have their pictures taken with him. When he came close to where we were, I realized that the kingly robe Claudius Phillips was magnificent and probably very heavy! The colors and design were unbelievable. His voice was haggard and Claudius was a tired man, after all he has been singing for two weeks straight. Any one else’s vocal chords would have been destroyed but his were just tired. And you know what? That is fine in my book.

The rhythm subsided a bit and after about 4 hours of mass hysteria, to let the world know that the parade was coming to an end.

Every parade has what we call a RABU or tail. That tail is mostly comprised of a group of carnival fanatics that tag on to and follow the last float. Theirs is the last official song and the last official jumping. Just as sensual and happy as the first group, this last group says many things. It says: its over, go home, be safe, wasn’t it great? It says those things and so much more.

Following the hilarity and fun of the RABU, a group of yellow trucks tag on. It is their job to – with efficiency and exacting precision, grab the long white with red stripe wooden barriers and place them neatly on a flat bed truck. Four guys to each side grabbing wood and tossing it to the flatbed. Next are the men that grab the metal structures that held up the wooden barriers. They are as efficient as the wood guys. And lastly - the street clean up crew. They grab the many plastic waste bags and toss them into a massive garbage truck while others sweep the streets and pick up the smaller items.

This last clean up gang is needed – after all, tomorrow is another day and Aruba opens back up for business much like it did on Saturday, well…. maybe not. A better part of the island is shut down to make sure that the many beers they had are properly digested and that the mind and body recuperates as it should. Is one day enough for this? Hardly, but the world keeps spinning and planes keep landing and we, after all is said and done, are here to host you.

As a last comment, police were as much everywhere as they were friendly to everyone. It is their job to be there and remind us all that there is a certain point up to which we can revel. Granted, we try to stretch it but they are there to make sure that the stretch is not a long or abusive one.

And the following day? Well …… the marching chameleons of our island put on their regular colors and the girls at the bank or those working at the fast food chain become themselves again and put on a different costume. The medical assistant, the lady at the check out counter and pool cleaning guy along with the carpenter, mailman and the hairdresser – all transform back to the reality that makes carnival possible. The performers and the audience will rest and recall the swaying and dancing of the prior day. Arms and legs will be sore as will some other body parts.

But this is Aruba and the time is Carnival and it is only Once a year


charles
arubafastphones.com