Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Calypso, complexion, canine

February 5 was a black day for PNM leader Keith Rowley. On the other hand, according to PNM mouth-piece Fitzgerald Hinds, every day is for Rowley a black day.

It was at a cottage meeting two Wednesdays ago that Hinds declared that many people felt Dr Rowley was too dark-skinned to be a prime minister of Trinidad and Tobago. The question is, has this remark put Hinds in the PNM’s black books? Will he now be black-listed or blackballed from black-tie events? Hinds claims everybody he talked to had heard that talk; I, on the other hand, have never heard anyone say anything about any politician’s complexion. Which, as a journalist, is a black mark against me.

Still, I am puzzled. What blackguard would cite his complexion as a reason Dr Rowley should not be prime minister, when there are so many other reasons to reject him? For example, just last Monday on a paid 195.5 FM re-broadcast, I heard Dr Rowley say that many of the society’s problems were caused by abandoning old-time ways, such as banning from classes any unmarried female teacher who got pregnant.

So, clearly, Dr Rowley’s ideas on social policy come from the Dark Ages. Which makes him perfectly suited to be the prime minister of this place: because, once we shun women who fornicate and get pregnant, we shall stop spilling black gold, eradicate the black market, and cure blackheads.

However, this is not what I wanted to talk about today. So just black out the preceding paragraphs.

Carnival is nearly upon us and, as usual, I am writing a calypso in the hope that a calypsonian will buy it from me for plenty money. I’ve been doing this for years now, but no one has yet commissioned me. However, as a wise man once said, stupidity beats eternal in the human brain. And I think I’ve figured out what the problem is.

All my calypsoes badtalk politicians, but not just UNC ones. So, this year, on this Valentine’s Day, I have eschewed all politics and, instead, written a romantic calypso about that great love which eclipses all others, between a man and his dog. Hopefully, I’ll get a lucrative offer today self. Just remember: there is absolutely no politics in these lyrics.

Mih dog collar

Copyright © KB, 2014

I have a Rottweiler,

Of which I very proud,

So I carry him to soca,

But the guard say, Yuh dog ent


I say, Doh worry officer

He bark worse than he bite;

He say, Yuh cyar get in, mister,

You dog leash ent fasten tight.

CHORUS: He say, Yuh dog have

de wrong collar

And people fraid Rottweiler;

If yuh dog did have a good


Then he coulda come in and


But that collar ent nice,

Dat collar could buss,

Dat collar is low price

Dat collar is de wuss.

I say, My Rott good with chir


He does defend them tooth and


If a female teacher have ah

oven bun

She must be married to a male.

If not, my Rott will stop she

Teaching class classlessly,

She cyar show she big belly

Out of holy matrimony.

And if a boy stab another boy

And then try to commit sui-


My Rott go bite the stabber

If he hasn’t already died.

CHORUS: But the guard say,

Yuh need a good collar

To get yuh dog in this fete,

Cent, five cent, dollar

Doesn’ pay for pet.

De collar bad,

De collar off,

De collar sad,

De collar sorf.

I say, But look how he coat

So glossy and black,

Yuh cyar buss he throat

For looking like Jack.

Mih enemy enemy

Is he friend,

He out for a penny,

To pound and rend.

He guard a site name Landate,

And nothing ever went wrong;

He went in de night by Ken

Gordon gate

And nobody see him sit, boy, sit


CHORUS: But the guard say,

The collar wrong

For this party tonight,

If the collar was brown

You wouldn be blight,

But that collar ent pretty,

That collar too ugly;

It fit he like a kitty,

Fogging up de poor doggy.

I say, My Rott fit everywhere,

Divali, Eid, and Phagwa;

He look good in any wear,

So who care bout he collar?

I see a poodle with one collar

And four leashes on she;

I see a pompek with a feller

With no testicles on he.

CHORUS: He say, But your Rott

black like night

And Indian doh find that right,

They go think your Rott go bite

Indian prefer dog collar tight.

You coulda fete all night,

If de collar was red;

If de collar was white

Yuh woulda even get fed.

But dat collar too black,

Dat collar is tears,

Dat collar off track,

Dat collar is mih darkest fears.

• kevin.baldeosingh@zoho.com