Doubles on Dengue April 1
My sweaty panting climb on top of Lady Chancellor sounds salacious, although, in life, she was no tart. On the contrary, Mary Elizabeth Chancellor, First Lady to the Colonial Governor of Trinidad during WWI, did virtually nothing, salacious or otherwise, to earn the honorary name of such a wonderful street. This time of year in particular—Shouter Spiritual Baptist Day is this weekend—the calls come again for ridding Port of Spain of Her Ladyship once and for all.
In 1917, Governor John Chancellor passed the Shouter Baptist Prohibition Ordinance, which effectively banned the practice of the ‘Mericans, one of the country’s major faiths. The principal nature of the complaint was aesthetic, chiefly, the noise, as the chanting and bell-ringing disturbed the peace of gentile Englishmen. Of course, there was more to it than that—this religion’s liberation theology posed a threat to the social order of the colonial outpost. Chancellor’s insidious handiwork was not undone until March 30, 1951, when the Spiritual Baptists were emancipated, and the nation created a new holiday.
The roar of lions fills the bamboo forest on the edge of the Savannah, where the Lady Chancellor Road begins its ascent, next to the Emperor Valley Zoo. Two giraffes stare blankly from their pen, as wild parrots cackle from the foliage overhead. This place is a magnet for city hikers and nature lovers. The two-mile hike up Lady Chancellor Hill is paved for most of the way to the top. The final slog, at about 500 feet, is a wide trail. Since the Road goes nowhere except to a string of beautiful old homes and guest residences, there is almost no car traffic. Halfway up the switchbacks, the trees open up to a framed panoramic scape of land and sea.
This is a rare oasis in the city, where people smile and say, “Mon’n Mon’n,“ as they pass, with hearts beating, beaming with perspiration and wellbeing. Gone is the nagging need to glance over your shoulder, to address the vagrant who hollers insistently, “Sir! Respect!“ I suppose his shouts amount to a holiday greeting. If not, I cannot help but believe his gripe is with the Chancellors.
The sounds of parrots and African lions abruptly give way to familiar urban bustle upon my dismount from the Fair Lady. Doubles on Dengue Street cost only $4 TT, and the line for orders clogs Tragarete, but Dengue does not exactly inspire an appetite. My friend got bit by a damned dengue mosquito five years ago, and he still feels the debilitating joint effects. The Western Main Road is stalled with cars and wandering foot travelers, allowing the food aromas to waft through the sticky air. A breeze would be welcome, but Doubles sound better, if only there were a place to park among the potholes and curbside garbage piles.