Old Years Night January 1
Trinidad refuses normality, and New Years Eve is another prime example. Here it is celebrated as Old Years Night, which is not incorrect so much as plain strange. Iceland and South Africa share this rarefied tradition with the West Indies, although its origin is traced back to Scotland—from the Outer Hebrides to the Lesser Antilles, sure, why not? Just like Parang Christmas songs and a Halloween populated by Jumbies, it is this unwavering insistence on uniqueness and incomparability that keeps this island in a bubble. Carnival confirms it. Without these exotic institutions, this country is just another nth-world mess on a long list, between Tanzania and Uzbekistan.
John Mendez highlights the distinctions with Cote ce Cote la, his dictionary for newcomers to Trinidad and Tobago. Hundreds of pages of colloquial terminology lead confounded readers through a jungle of French patios, Spanish, English, East Indian, Arabic, Chinese, and, who can predict, maybe Tanzanian and Uzbeki. Almost every phrase has multiple meanings, with regional and contextual variation. Cote ce Cote la, for instance, can mean “a little bit of this or that,“ or “half-and-half,“ or it could refer to “spreading rumours,“ which is something much different and rather more sinister. Even if one can maneuver the range of sketchy meanings, this knowledge is useless in conversation, because the pronunciation will be unrecognizable.
Through Cot ce Cote la spelling, however, I have something to work with, so let me just make very clear what I am trying to say:
“I Eh Payin’ Tax Fuh Mih Mout’.
If Snake Come Out-A Bush An’ Say Snake Dey, He Dey.
If Yuh Cyar Get Gra’ma Yuh Have to Take Gran’pa.
If Yuh Spit in De Air It Mus’ Fall on Yuh Face.
I Hear Better Cock Dan You Crow An’ Still End Up In De Pelau.
I Dance At Yuh Weddin’ An’ Bongo At Yuh Wake.“
That last one would make a good Rolling Stone lyric. So would all of them, in fact. Listen up yuh, Mick en Keit’, and if you doubt my words, then say, “Fuh yuh news come a coconut shell.“ If this does not help, then read on, because “Time Long-a Dan Twine.“
A disingenuous smile is “All Skin-Teet’ Eh Laugh.“ Social climbers out of their league are “Corbeaux’s Cyar Eat Sponge Cake.“ A short person is “Drink Soup On Yuh Head.“ “Big ‘Gouti, Lil ‘Gouti, Same Shot,“ exemplifies a merciless attitude. Bad conditions got you down? Not to worry, “De Longes’ Rope Huv An End.“ And for those slaves to the latest trend, just remember that “Follow-Fashion Kill Monkey-Dog.“ Ah yes—don’t forget about the monkeys:
“Monkey Doh See He Own Tail.
Monkey Eye Deep All About.
Monkey Say Cool Breeze.
Trouble Make Monkey Eat Peppa’.
Monkey Doh Climb Gru-Gru Bouef Tree.
What Monkey See Monkey Do.“
That last one is an example of a creole phrase that leaped into public lexicon, like “When Push Come To Shove.“ And like everything in the patois idiom, the monkey does not fare well. This language reflects a hard life; hence, best wishes for marital harmony include the observation that “it takes two fingers to kill louse.“ Instead of the existential “you can’t take it with you,“ there is the graphic “Shroud Eh Huv Pocket.“ As for “sink or swim,“ know that the “Sea Doh Huv Branch.“ And in the Yuck Department category, I submit: “Never Mess In De Road, ‘Cause Yuh Go Pass Back And Mash It.“
Thanks to Cote ce Cote la, I feel more than ready to socialize with the Trini people on this Old Years Night, and I feel they will accept me as a native speaker and, dare I say, a very creole man. I have made the language my own, and I Doh Hang Meh Hat Higher Dan Me Could Reach. I Measure Meh Wais’ Befo’ Ah Go A-Tailor Shop, ‘Cause Bush Huv Ears En Empty Bag Cyar Stan’ Up. And Guinea Hen Cyar Bring Ram Goat, En Dog Doh Make Cat. Now Doh Dat Beat All Cockfight! And more monkey stuff.