Hosay in a Sleepy St. James

“Hosay in St. James tonight,” read the bbm from a friend who knows I am determined to maximize my cultural experiences during my year at home.  She warned that it started late, so although I was tired from a long day of work, I took a shot of caffeine to stay awake for the festivities.

One of the interesting things about rediscovering my homeland is the realization that there are so many festivals that are simply taken for granted as part of our cultural fabric, but I realize I know very little about their origins or significance.  I learned about local traditions in social studies class in standard five, but alas I now know less than a standard fiver.  I did a little background research, made easier by google, before I took to the streets.

Hosay (derived from Hussain) is a Shi’ah celebration to commemorate the martyrdom of Hussain, the grandson of the Prophet Muhammed at the Battle of Kerbala in 680 AD.  It was a significant event in the ideological split between the minority Shiites and the Sunnis, who represent the majority of Muslims in Trinidad and around the world.  There are many sources for more detailed history, but one that I found concise and informative is here.  The festival includes 10 days of prayers and fasting, followed by 3 nights of public festivities.

The public celebration is the part I have no problem remembering from childhood.  During the festivities, replicas of mosques (tadjahs) made from bamboo, wood, paper and tinsel parade through the streets of St. James, accompanied by the rythmic sounds of tassa drums.  Two standards in the shape of half-moons, one representing Hussain and the other his brother Hassan, are carried separately on the shoulders of participants.   Each tadjah and accompanying drummers proceed from different directions to converge in a central location for a literal sound clash.  As a young teenager I remember being amidst throngs of spectators as the procession took on a carnival-like atmosphere.  On the final day of festivities, the tadjahs are thrown into the sea.

My cousin and I arrived shortly after 10 pm, and easily found a parking space on a side street that was conveniently close to the heart of St. James.  The entire western main road was blocked to vehicular traffic from Courts on the east end to the St. James infirmary in the west.  Surprisingly, the city that never sleeps as it is often called, had relatively few people milling around.  The vendor who makes roti on a tahwah in front of one of the casinos told us the procession should get to us by 11 pm.

We killed time liming in front of the legendary Smokey and Bunty, which has been a St. James staple for 22 years, with its ole time rum shop vibe and characters.  We eventually had to take a walk because several of the characters, whose slur and stumble revealed just how long they had been there, kept coming over to talk.

We ran into my friend’s dad, who commented that Hosay drew more attention and bigger crowds back in the day.  We speculated that the scaled back event may be a result of criticism over the years that Hosay had lost its solemn religious significance, and had become another excuse for drinking and liming, which goes against Islamic principles.  I later learned that the small crowds may simply have been because we went on the night of “small Hosay”, as opposed to the final night of “big Hosay.”

In any event, it was worth experiencing the sights and sounds of Hosay again.

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