It's been a hot today. And I mean mega hot. I've never sweat so much. In my life. It's bad. Really bad. Again, I am enjoying writing short sentences. It's one of my favourite past-times when I have nothing to do. Which is what is happening at the moment. Today, I have eaten an omelette. Played some steel pan. Been to the corner shop. And tried to put a lock on my door. Why a lock? Because the lodger is crazy. Yesterday he wrote a note saying he would come and see me in ten minutes. Psychotic or what? I told him if he came anywhere near my room I would scream. He doesn't seem like a dodgy type. However, you never do know. I have finally found the key, so touch wood, I am safe. For the time being. I can't tell my aunt about his strange behaviour as they once had relations. Hmmm, this is not good.
On another note entirely, I have discovered that Guyanese men aren't so different to English men. I went to Halloween party the other week - Caribbean style. Please note that it's the first time I've drunk, heavily, in a long time. I went with some peeps from work, when I soon discovered that the dress code isn't that dis-similar from P-Town on Saturday. It appears, that over here, less is indeed more.
So, one hour and a vodka and triple rum later (which cost no less than a pound), I was hammered. And i mean hammered. I was swaying, spinning, shaking and bumping into people galore. I somehow managed to shimmy my way over to a young man, knock his drink over and announce to him and probably the rest of the party that I was educated. Oh the shame. I then dragged him outside and whittered on at him for several hours before it got to much for him and he had to take me home.
Anyway, we went for a coffee last Monday, which seemed to go okay. How much we have in common, I don't know. However, he was fairly entertaining aside from when he asked: If we were to start dating what would you bring to the table? Er what? Who asks that. I was baffled and didn't really know what to say, much like when he asked if I'd like to do this (coffee) again.
Now, it's one week later and we've spoken once and he's now announced that he'll call me in a week or so! Which he did (I am updating this sometime later), and he can't meet until he has cash. Screw him man. These folk just get weirder and weirder.
Oh and did I mention my cousin tried to throw me out last week! Get me outta here now!!!
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
The original steel pan man
An article that was published in The Sunday Magazine of Guyana Times...
If the steel pan were a man, it would no doubt be Roy Geddes. Rosetta Pineapple discovers the story behind Guyana’s premier player and asks him how he’s developing the art form these days
Roy Geddes is a chap who lives, breathes and adores the steel pan more than any other. His talent is second to none, his passion is beautifully raw and his dedication is, in a word, remarkable. Oh and did I mention this man’s got style?
Decked out in burgundy plaid trousers, a red striped T-shirt and beige flat cap perched atop a bed of white hair, this is a man who remains true to his roots and is hell bent on continuing his love affair with the pan - he even has a gold pan pendant slung around his neck, glittering in the sunlight.
His evolvement into one Guyana’s leading pan players has been an eventful one and began in 1953 at the tender age of 13. “Coming from a single parent family and being the eldest of five, I had to leave school at 13,” says 70-year-old Roy. He soon took up a job as a tradesman; however the glorious sound of the steel pan soon started floating his way. “I was living on Lambert Street at the time where I was bombarded with steel pan music and that’s what inspired me to get involved. I would head to the pan yard everyday and imitate how the fellas there were playing.”
Three years down the line and a plethora of pan sessions later, self-taught Roy started to take the art form seriously.
“After that, I started playing with the Casablancas and started to think this could really be a career. The first time I performed I was so nervous and couldn’t stop trembling,” he says, his mischievous eyes crinkling into a smile. But the path wasn’t always easy. Back in the 1950s people had to work during the day to generate an income, and then head to their jam sessions in the evening.”You couldn’t just play for the love of it alone,” explains Roy.
However people soon caught onto the fact that this wasn’t just any ordinary pan man. Roy continued to make a name for himself, playing in bands in Wismar and Bartica where his father lived. “I was well known in those regions,” says Roy, “and I was one of the best as I was always willing to learn. I didn’t know how to read music, so I had to be a very good listener.”
After returning from his stint in Bartica, Roy’s star really took off. He would tramp the streets of Georgetown, pan around his neck, whipping up a melodic frenzy where ever he went.
In 1962, the original pan man was selected to hit the shores of Trinidad with the National Steel Orchestra of Guyana. “It was such an honour,” explains Roy, “as Trinidad is the headquarter of the pan and it’s where it was first invented.”
Then in 1963, Roy was once again selected to be part of the National Steel Orchestra but this time he headed to Cuba. “It was in Cuba that I learnt about respect and how to respect myself,” he says smiling, fondly remembering the seven months spent on the rhythmic island. “The trip was a blessing in disguise as we would attend lectures and they would tell you to express yourself freely.” It was almost like a second schooling for Roy and on his return to Guyana, the pan player realised there was a great deal he wanted to share with the youth of his country.
“I wanted to help people and teach them about patriotism, as well as respect for others and for themselves.”
Midway into our interview which is taking place in his steel pan museum – full of memorabilia from the good old days, hammers for building and tuning pans along with quotations and plants by the dozen - Roy suddenly jumps up from his chair. The cricket is on upstairs and while his full focus is on the interview at hand, he, like any other sports-loving man, has a radar for when something’s happened. Today, Trinidad is playing and he’s eager to find out from wife Pam, what’s been going on. Ganga’s out he informs me, as he settles back down, a look of excitement flashing across his face as he shouts thanks to his wife of 43 years.
Leaning forward conspiratorially, he confides that Pam, who not only provides him with the cricket scores, is the academic one and secretary for the band as well as a loyal companion to Roy. “Without her support, this wouldn’t be possible,” says Roy, his face glowing proudly.
Back to the task at hand, it becomes clear that Roy’s career went from strength to strength after discovering his love for teaching along with playing.
He formed his own band called the Silvertones in 1964. During his time in the band, he played for Elizabeth II, won the Guyana Music Festival twice; he also chalked up awards for Best Original Costume Band and took home first prize from the National History and Arts Council competition.
He’s also received two National Awards for his contribution to the art form from former presidents Forbes Burnham and Dr Cheddi Jagan.
Roy remains humble however, and hasn’t let the awards faze him. “I was honoured by them but that’s not what I was after.”
Today, Roy isn’t just one of the most prolific steel pan players of all time. He’s also a pan builder and tuner (he sinks drums and creates pans in his museum - every corner is chock full of drums, pans and tools), arranger, leader and most importantly, a social worker.
“My main objective is to commercialise the steel pan art form and pan production as an industry,” he says. “I want pan men to be able to take care of their family and I
want the steel pan to give the youth of today a firm direction in their life.”
Teaching is something that Roy takes very seriously. “When kids come to learn to play, I try to instil family values as it’s something that’s lacking and hampering young people these days,” Roy explains. Being a firm leader himself and adhering to a strict set of values, Roy believes discipline is essential and stresses that “you can’t lead young people effectively unless you lead them by example, which is what I am trying to do”.
As well as his social work, Roy’s other mission in life is to preserve the history of the steel pan, as he says, “a man who has no sense of history is like a man who has no eyes or ears”.
“Pan won’t die, there will always be pans around, but the development is lacking. That’s why I have a museum which I am developing so future generations can learn more about it.”
Looking around his museum (which tourists flock to regularly), you can immediately gage a sense of just how rich the steel pan culture is. This museum tells the story of Roy’s 56-year stint in the business and as he himself can vouch for, his “contribution is not just seasonal, but full-time”.
Photographs line the walls, awards are piled high on a table, a football lies on a bench in homage to Roy’s alter-ego Pele – he is a pretty mean football player - and inspiring quotations fill every nook and cranny encouraging the practice of discipline, responsibility and patriotism.
Roy Geddes is certainly a man with a mission and one who continues to break barriers when it comes to the steel pan. As the pan player himself says, “greatness is determined by service” and given his service to the art form thus far, that must mean, and rightfully so, that Roy Geddes is a truly great player, creator and most of all, teacher.
The Roy Geddes Steel Pan Museum is located at 190 Roxanne Burnham Gardens, Georgetown. For more information call 226 9844.
If the steel pan were a man, it would no doubt be Roy Geddes. Rosetta Pineapple discovers the story behind Guyana’s premier player and asks him how he’s developing the art form these days
Roy Geddes is a chap who lives, breathes and adores the steel pan more than any other. His talent is second to none, his passion is beautifully raw and his dedication is, in a word, remarkable. Oh and did I mention this man’s got style?
Decked out in burgundy plaid trousers, a red striped T-shirt and beige flat cap perched atop a bed of white hair, this is a man who remains true to his roots and is hell bent on continuing his love affair with the pan - he even has a gold pan pendant slung around his neck, glittering in the sunlight.
His evolvement into one Guyana’s leading pan players has been an eventful one and began in 1953 at the tender age of 13. “Coming from a single parent family and being the eldest of five, I had to leave school at 13,” says 70-year-old Roy. He soon took up a job as a tradesman; however the glorious sound of the steel pan soon started floating his way. “I was living on Lambert Street at the time where I was bombarded with steel pan music and that’s what inspired me to get involved. I would head to the pan yard everyday and imitate how the fellas there were playing.”
Three years down the line and a plethora of pan sessions later, self-taught Roy started to take the art form seriously.
“After that, I started playing with the Casablancas and started to think this could really be a career. The first time I performed I was so nervous and couldn’t stop trembling,” he says, his mischievous eyes crinkling into a smile. But the path wasn’t always easy. Back in the 1950s people had to work during the day to generate an income, and then head to their jam sessions in the evening.”You couldn’t just play for the love of it alone,” explains Roy.
However people soon caught onto the fact that this wasn’t just any ordinary pan man. Roy continued to make a name for himself, playing in bands in Wismar and Bartica where his father lived. “I was well known in those regions,” says Roy, “and I was one of the best as I was always willing to learn. I didn’t know how to read music, so I had to be a very good listener.”
After returning from his stint in Bartica, Roy’s star really took off. He would tramp the streets of Georgetown, pan around his neck, whipping up a melodic frenzy where ever he went.
In 1962, the original pan man was selected to hit the shores of Trinidad with the National Steel Orchestra of Guyana. “It was such an honour,” explains Roy, “as Trinidad is the headquarter of the pan and it’s where it was first invented.”
Then in 1963, Roy was once again selected to be part of the National Steel Orchestra but this time he headed to Cuba. “It was in Cuba that I learnt about respect and how to respect myself,” he says smiling, fondly remembering the seven months spent on the rhythmic island. “The trip was a blessing in disguise as we would attend lectures and they would tell you to express yourself freely.” It was almost like a second schooling for Roy and on his return to Guyana, the pan player realised there was a great deal he wanted to share with the youth of his country.
“I wanted to help people and teach them about patriotism, as well as respect for others and for themselves.”
Midway into our interview which is taking place in his steel pan museum – full of memorabilia from the good old days, hammers for building and tuning pans along with quotations and plants by the dozen - Roy suddenly jumps up from his chair. The cricket is on upstairs and while his full focus is on the interview at hand, he, like any other sports-loving man, has a radar for when something’s happened. Today, Trinidad is playing and he’s eager to find out from wife Pam, what’s been going on. Ganga’s out he informs me, as he settles back down, a look of excitement flashing across his face as he shouts thanks to his wife of 43 years.
Leaning forward conspiratorially, he confides that Pam, who not only provides him with the cricket scores, is the academic one and secretary for the band as well as a loyal companion to Roy. “Without her support, this wouldn’t be possible,” says Roy, his face glowing proudly.
Back to the task at hand, it becomes clear that Roy’s career went from strength to strength after discovering his love for teaching along with playing.
He formed his own band called the Silvertones in 1964. During his time in the band, he played for Elizabeth II, won the Guyana Music Festival twice; he also chalked up awards for Best Original Costume Band and took home first prize from the National History and Arts Council competition.
He’s also received two National Awards for his contribution to the art form from former presidents Forbes Burnham and Dr Cheddi Jagan.
Roy remains humble however, and hasn’t let the awards faze him. “I was honoured by them but that’s not what I was after.”
Today, Roy isn’t just one of the most prolific steel pan players of all time. He’s also a pan builder and tuner (he sinks drums and creates pans in his museum - every corner is chock full of drums, pans and tools), arranger, leader and most importantly, a social worker.
“My main objective is to commercialise the steel pan art form and pan production as an industry,” he says. “I want pan men to be able to take care of their family and I
want the steel pan to give the youth of today a firm direction in their life.”
Teaching is something that Roy takes very seriously. “When kids come to learn to play, I try to instil family values as it’s something that’s lacking and hampering young people these days,” Roy explains. Being a firm leader himself and adhering to a strict set of values, Roy believes discipline is essential and stresses that “you can’t lead young people effectively unless you lead them by example, which is what I am trying to do”.
As well as his social work, Roy’s other mission in life is to preserve the history of the steel pan, as he says, “a man who has no sense of history is like a man who has no eyes or ears”.
“Pan won’t die, there will always be pans around, but the development is lacking. That’s why I have a museum which I am developing so future generations can learn more about it.”
Looking around his museum (which tourists flock to regularly), you can immediately gage a sense of just how rich the steel pan culture is. This museum tells the story of Roy’s 56-year stint in the business and as he himself can vouch for, his “contribution is not just seasonal, but full-time”.
Photographs line the walls, awards are piled high on a table, a football lies on a bench in homage to Roy’s alter-ego Pele – he is a pretty mean football player - and inspiring quotations fill every nook and cranny encouraging the practice of discipline, responsibility and patriotism.
Roy Geddes is certainly a man with a mission and one who continues to break barriers when it comes to the steel pan. As the pan player himself says, “greatness is determined by service” and given his service to the art form thus far, that must mean, and rightfully so, that Roy Geddes is a truly great player, creator and most of all, teacher.
The Roy Geddes Steel Pan Museum is located at 190 Roxanne Burnham Gardens, Georgetown. For more information call 226 9844.
Thursday, 5 November 2009
My column...
Admittedly, this is probably a repeat of much of what is already on my blog, however here is my fully published, fancy column...
Back in February, I visited Guyana, the land of many waters, many bottles of rum and where my many (well two) parents are from. From the moment I stepped off the plane I was taken by the intense heat, soft breeze and, of course, the shot of El Dorado rum I received upon arrival. So eight months later I thought it was time to pack my bags, head to the motherland, get in touch with my roots, drink copious amounts of rum, perhaps find a goat-herding husband and of course, work.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the culture shock that comes with actually living here along with working not five, but six days a week! Apparently this is normal over here (I like to conduct a survey everywhere I go to see how many days people work, six or seven is average), however for my lazy British behind it’s not. I’m slowly getting used to it though and I am finding that there’s still plenty of time to experience the wonders of Guyanese culture.
At the moment I’m staying with my Aunt, which is a mini culture fest in itself. She loves to cook every West Indian dish in the book (and tell me about every sordid crime that occurs in Georgetown). So far, I’ve sampled baigan choka, baigan curry, squash curry, black eye cook up, fish and chips, fried fish, methem, vermicelli and of course, chicken curry. (The list goes on by the way.) However all these decadent dishes means that I’ve been accompanying my lovely aunt to Stabroek Market on a tri-weekly basis.
I’ve restricted myself to heading down town once a week now though, as all those screaming bus touts, dead carcasses and losing lottery tickets have started to give me a headache. What I do love, however, are the music vendors. Tell me, where have they sprung from? I swear I didn’t see any in February. The tunes that blare out from those brightly painted, larger-than-life ghetto blasters always bring a smile to my face. It’s like going to a nightclub in the middle of the day. However, if I hear “One More Night” one more time, I might stab myself in the foot with a cutlass which, I’ve come to notice, is quite a common thing. Cutlass crime that is, not stabbing my foot. I’ve been assured though, that these are merely crimes of passion and as long as I steer clear of love, romance and water coconuts, I’ll be safe.
But Stabroek Market isn’t the only place I’ve visited. Last week, the Essequibo River beckoned, so I took a trip to Bartica. As soon as I reached Parika and jumped onto the ageing wooden speedboat, life jacket in hand, I knew I was in for the ride of my life. Zipping across the vast expanse of the stunning river brought a certain sense of freedom and reckless abandonment as I drank in the sights of the lush islands piled high with greenery, the teeny-tiny beaches beckoning to the speedboats and, of course, Eddy Grant’s awesome house plonked on top of his own private mecca. Bartica itself was quiet. Compared to Georgetown most places are, however the golden rum sipped at the Kool Breeze Wharf made the trip worthwhile as I gazed out onto the stunning river, silly (semi-drunk) smile plastered across my face.
Aside from chicken curry, speedboats and rum, I’ve also taken it upon myself to learn the steel pan drums from the truly inspiring Mr Roy Geddes. He is, in a word, awesome as is his pan yard which is packed with plants, fascinating quotations and, of course, many a steel pan drum. So far I’ve learnt the F scale, the C scale as well as Do-Re-Mi! It's simply a matter of time before The Pegasus comes knocking at my door.
So while I’ve enjoyed pretty much everything about my trip so far (six-day week aside), my stand-out moment has to be arriving at my desk to find two rolls of toilet paper sat, quite happily, next to my computer. I like loo roll as much as the next person. However, it was a quite a surprise. Apparently staff are given a toilet paper allocation each month. Yes, that's right. A toilet paper allocation. Men get one roll, women get two. Bonkers I know. But cool. In England we have to make do with what’s in the bathroom and if there’s nothing there, then too bad. But this idea is genius. I just need to make sure I go easy on the pone and don't get a bout of diarrhoea before October 23 (the next time the paper is dished out).
Back in February, I visited Guyana, the land of many waters, many bottles of rum and where my many (well two) parents are from. From the moment I stepped off the plane I was taken by the intense heat, soft breeze and, of course, the shot of El Dorado rum I received upon arrival. So eight months later I thought it was time to pack my bags, head to the motherland, get in touch with my roots, drink copious amounts of rum, perhaps find a goat-herding husband and of course, work.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the culture shock that comes with actually living here along with working not five, but six days a week! Apparently this is normal over here (I like to conduct a survey everywhere I go to see how many days people work, six or seven is average), however for my lazy British behind it’s not. I’m slowly getting used to it though and I am finding that there’s still plenty of time to experience the wonders of Guyanese culture.
At the moment I’m staying with my Aunt, which is a mini culture fest in itself. She loves to cook every West Indian dish in the book (and tell me about every sordid crime that occurs in Georgetown). So far, I’ve sampled baigan choka, baigan curry, squash curry, black eye cook up, fish and chips, fried fish, methem, vermicelli and of course, chicken curry. (The list goes on by the way.) However all these decadent dishes means that I’ve been accompanying my lovely aunt to Stabroek Market on a tri-weekly basis.
I’ve restricted myself to heading down town once a week now though, as all those screaming bus touts, dead carcasses and losing lottery tickets have started to give me a headache. What I do love, however, are the music vendors. Tell me, where have they sprung from? I swear I didn’t see any in February. The tunes that blare out from those brightly painted, larger-than-life ghetto blasters always bring a smile to my face. It’s like going to a nightclub in the middle of the day. However, if I hear “One More Night” one more time, I might stab myself in the foot with a cutlass which, I’ve come to notice, is quite a common thing. Cutlass crime that is, not stabbing my foot. I’ve been assured though, that these are merely crimes of passion and as long as I steer clear of love, romance and water coconuts, I’ll be safe.
But Stabroek Market isn’t the only place I’ve visited. Last week, the Essequibo River beckoned, so I took a trip to Bartica. As soon as I reached Parika and jumped onto the ageing wooden speedboat, life jacket in hand, I knew I was in for the ride of my life. Zipping across the vast expanse of the stunning river brought a certain sense of freedom and reckless abandonment as I drank in the sights of the lush islands piled high with greenery, the teeny-tiny beaches beckoning to the speedboats and, of course, Eddy Grant’s awesome house plonked on top of his own private mecca. Bartica itself was quiet. Compared to Georgetown most places are, however the golden rum sipped at the Kool Breeze Wharf made the trip worthwhile as I gazed out onto the stunning river, silly (semi-drunk) smile plastered across my face.
Aside from chicken curry, speedboats and rum, I’ve also taken it upon myself to learn the steel pan drums from the truly inspiring Mr Roy Geddes. He is, in a word, awesome as is his pan yard which is packed with plants, fascinating quotations and, of course, many a steel pan drum. So far I’ve learnt the F scale, the C scale as well as Do-Re-Mi! It's simply a matter of time before The Pegasus comes knocking at my door.
So while I’ve enjoyed pretty much everything about my trip so far (six-day week aside), my stand-out moment has to be arriving at my desk to find two rolls of toilet paper sat, quite happily, next to my computer. I like loo roll as much as the next person. However, it was a quite a surprise. Apparently staff are given a toilet paper allocation each month. Yes, that's right. A toilet paper allocation. Men get one roll, women get two. Bonkers I know. But cool. In England we have to make do with what’s in the bathroom and if there’s nothing there, then too bad. But this idea is genius. I just need to make sure I go easy on the pone and don't get a bout of diarrhoea before October 23 (the next time the paper is dished out).
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