Satiricus and his friends didn’t need much…well, ANY! – excuse to celebrate. And so it wasn’t surprising they were huddled in the back of the Back Street Bar, planning their moves for Emancipation Day. As usual, after their opening round of beer had been duly consumed, they plunged into justifying their drinking capers.
“Rememba when abee bin a slave, dem white maan only use fuh gi’e abee lil-bit rum fuh drink when de crap done?” Bungi ventured.
“But don’t forget that, as a revolutionary act, our foreparents used to steal small amounts of rum from the still,” pointed out Satiricus.
“Yes, but me hear dem fact’ry slave na bin a gi’e abee fiel’ slave none,” said Bungi morosely. “Dem use fuh exchange wid dem house slave fuh fancy food!”
“The white men also used to give them some old clothes to wear at end-of-crop,” grumbled Hari. “But how come we didn’t make that ‘sport’ into Carnival, like Trinidad did?”
“Well,” Satiricus said with a smirk at the opportunity to display his knowledge, even though this was a yearly ritual, “You really want to know?”
“Budday, na play de ass,” said Bungi. “Leh abee hear.”
“All right,” continued Satiricus. “Some French planters who knew about Carnival came to Trinidad after the revolution in Haiti, and they started Carnival there!”
“Let’s drink to that!” said Hari enthusiastically as beer bottles clinked all around.
“Yes!” said Bungi, “Now abee can drink how much abee want! Real emancipation!”
“Well, I will bring the metemgee this year,” said Satiricus. “I already buy the coconuts and ground provision.”
“Yuh real smart, boy!” grinned Hari. “So I have to pound the foo-foo again this year?”
“Lemme jus’ she yuh wife a mek de bes’ foo-foo!” smiled Bungi. “Suh me gat fuh bring de beer?”
“You buy the best beer,” said Hari and Satiricus in unison. “We’ll have a good Emancipation Day!”