Ganga Dhaaraa Teerath

Last Sunday, I was very lucky to experience a sacred river festival celebrated by the Hindu organisation Hindu Prachar Kendra called the Ganga Dhaaraa Teerath.
According to Creedopeida The Ganga is personified in Hinduism as a goddess: Maa Ganga (Mother Ganga).When Bhagiratha, one of the descendants of Sagara, son of Dilip, learnt of this fate, he vowed to bring Ganga down to Earth so that her waters could cleanse their souls and release them to heaven. Devout Hindus make pilgrimages to bathe in the Ganga and to meditate on its banks.But we were not in the Ganga, we were deep in the moist forest of the northern range. At the 18.5 mile mark to be exact. This festival has been taking place here for several years now and despite the pouring rain, there was a large crowd that had obviously been there from early in the morning.
In 2004, the Trinidad Guardian published an interesting story on this annual festival. Click here to read whole article.
Ganga Dhaaraa provides an interesting study in religious, social and cultural anthropology. The event is driven by an ancient memory of an event of spiritual value as well as social and ecological relevance.
This memory has been transmitted down several millennia through mantras, kathaas, songs, traditions, the deity Ganga and the event of Ganga Dashara which celebrates the coming of Ganga to earth.
Every morning the recreation of Ganga Avataran—”bringing down Ganga”—is recreated by a Hindu ritual at sunrise, charhaawaying jal. Ganga is invoked at every worship and ceremony of life. After the marriage ceremony, newlyweds pay tribute to Ganga at a river. Why, even at death, a drop of Ganga is placed on the lips of the aspirant for transport to a higher existence.Offerings are made to the Murti in the form of food, money, or flowers. All along the river, altars have been set up to perform prayers and facilitate sacred offerings. There was a strong sense of peace and goodwill and great concentrated prayer. The Murti is carried up the river to be returned to the water. All the while, little coconut "boats" are being prepared to float down the river carrying fire and offerings of flowers and incense. At all times, powerful chants and invocations are being sung all along the river banks. The skies opened almost on cue.
Once the murti has been returned to the water, flowers and lit "boats" are released to float down the river. The message of environmental consciousness is a very strong theme. There are signs all along the river's edge that have been erected for this festival reminding devotees that the river is not to be polluted and constantly reminding of the importance of water and rebirth. There was an equal mix of men and women with lots of children brought along as well.

But women gathered in little pockets to perform pujas. While watching these women I could feel the strong matriarchal bonds that run thorugh these groups. After some of the pujuas, there was dancing among the women which was especially lovely to see.
The predominant colour was yellow. Saffron coloured clothing, saffron painted coconut shells, and, of course, masses of yellow allamanda.
I have been asked about the significance of the white dot but don't really know what it means so would be happy if anyone would like to comment on this.
This girl was particularly lovely as she made her offering.
There was a tangible sense of euphoria to this day. The power of prayer, chanting, collective gathering for goodwill is always something to celebrate, whatever our religion.

The Butterfly Doula

My sister Jennifer is an interior designer, but she has many talents not least of which is the ability to lure monarch butterflies into her garden with delicious milkweed, nurture them to maturity, and even hold an umbrella over them so they are not crushed by their first rainfall. My sister, the butterfly midwife.

This is the email that she sent me about the butterflies -

I intentionally planted Florida Milkweed (Asclepias feayi) to attract Monarch butterflies. They happily arrived, laid their eggs and then the caterpillars feasted. One Saturday morning I was horrified to find they had munched through all of the Milkweed plants and were dropping off the bald stalks. They were supplied with more flowering plants.

About two weeks ago I noticed the caterpillars had disappeared. A friend told me that they spin their pods discreetly on the undersides of leaves...areca palm leaves, green bell pepper leaves, spinach leaves, sage leaves. The pods are light green with delicate markings in gold so they were difficult to find. While searching for the pods, I discovered the hideout for my resident flying frog. Yay.

Saturday morning, I noticed two pods were transparent (the orange and black butterfly folded wings were visible) and I waited. The pod split and the butterfly sort of climbed out with damp, crumpled wings. Then he slowly unfolded his wings out and stayed in the area flexing wings for about two hours before flitting off to a nearby shrub checked Wikipedia...the males have two distinct black markings (called sex scales) over veins on their hindwings and I've noticed they are bigger.

One of these pods split down the side but the transformation wasn't complete. Poor thing, she was half-baked and didn't make it. I wanted so badly to help but thats just nature saying something wasn't right.

This morning, the transparent pod in the picture I sent you this morning had fallen off a leaf so I placed it in the crook of two orchid leaves. The pod split, she wobbled out upside down and wrestled with the shell of her chrysalis before it dropped. I watched her fan her wings out this morning, took some pictures. When I went back an hour later to check, there was a small puddle of orange fluid on the table below her. Apparently while pumping this fluid into their wings to make them stiff, some drips out. And it is most definitely orange.

My yellow butterfly ginger "Hedychium flavum" is also flowering at the moment. It has a spicy gingery scent.
Alright, I will keep you informed and entertained with the Monarchs - I spotted four pods today. Have only just figured out how to take clear pictures with my camera. Don't zoom. Just stick the camera as close as I can.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monarch_butterfly

Birth of a Butterfly

My sister in Coral Gables Miami just sent these (the pictures, not the butterflies) to me. The total email reads "I had to look up the plural of chrysalis...its chrysalides."
She has been rearing (?) monarch butterflies and they are just beginning to emerge from their cocoons.We have lovely monarchs here in Trinidad as well but I have been advised by my friend Courtenay that it would be very unwise to bring in my own butterfly rearing kit. The reason is that our local monarchs have evolved as a non-migratory branch of the family. Monarchs are well known for their spectacular migration shows and if we were to mix the two types, it would probably be an ecological disaster.
So thank you to my sister Jennifer, the butterfly doula.

Sunflowers

My new garden is a very different space. It's all about the sunshine. This garden is very sunny and this has proven to be very challenging for propagating. My cuttings and gentle plants like my impatiens burn and quail; but for the first time, I am growing sunflowers. And not by design.These flowers have popped up where we throw out the dregs of the birdseed. All the sunflower seeds that the lovebirds have discarded have magically reincarnated in my garden.
And they are growing their own seeds. Many different varieties have sprung up. Some are daisy-like with many flowers while others are the classic one-headed sunflower. I am curious to see how quickly they will re-seed themselves. It will also be interesting to see if they perform as well in the rainy season which arrived today right on schedule.
One of the most interesting things about sunflowers is the spiralling patterns that flow both clockwise and anti-clockwise from the centre of the flower. Below this lizzy-dizzy pattern lie the immature seeds - a veritable sunflower-seed factory with snazzy packaging.The flowers have not lasted very long - maybe a week before they begin to droop.

I love the fact that this flower was once a seed in a bird cage.

Accompong. The Maroons of Jamaica

I was introduced to Jamaica via Kingston and the south-east coast of the island. These areas are very different from the beautiful north-coast country which is where most of the tourists in Jamaica visit. There is a different beauty to this part of Jamaica. Treasure Beach is a sleepy village far away from the large all-inclusive resorts. It is like many small villages throughtout the Caribbean where people eke a living out of fishing and small-plot agriculture. The people are warm and friendly and the accent slightly thicker than that you would find in Kingston.

We were also relatively close to "Cockpit Country" where the Maroon village of Accompong is located. The Jamaican Maroons can trace their community back to the early 1700's. The legends of these largely West African men and women who fought the region's first guerilla warfare in defence of their freedom are told and retold throughout the region. The community is largely self-sufficient and lives Accompong high up in the mountains. We are not sure what to expect when we arrive in the village. The Cockpit Region is known for its giant limestone sinkholes and is most dramatic when viewed from the air. The founding Maroons used this landscape to their advantage and their ability to navigate and move over this terrain is now legendary. When we pull in after a near two-hour drive from the coast, we are fortunate to land in the hands of guide Tyrone Huggins.

The interesting thing about Accompong is that, superficially, it appears like any other village that you pass while travelling through the Jamaican countryside.

But it is very different. Large signs are found all throughout the village chronicling the history of the Maroons. No doubt these signs are for people like us, tourist passing through, but what an affirming role they must play in village life as each child walks past these tangible signs of his history and belonging.

The traditions are deeply entrenched. The Maroons are still autonomous and self-governing. Their leader, known as The Colonel. When we arrive, it is mere weeks before an election and we are told that the village is in the midst of an active campaign. The Jamaica Election Board will come to the village to assist bit it is a largely domestic operation. Interestingly there is no courthouse. Infractions are brought before The Colonel and if they are severe, the individual is to be handed over to the government.

Most babies are delivered without medical intervention (there is a community nurse) and people routinely live past 100 years old. Crime is a non-issue. We are told by Tyrone that there has been just one murder in the community.

"In the last year?" I ask.

"Ever." comes the prompt reply.

There is a strong sense of "Revival" or "Poco" as it is sometimes called. This spiritualist religion was brought from Africa and incorporated into life in the West Indies. It is still a major part of life not just among the Maroons but everywhere in Jamaica.

The use of medicinal herbs is widespread and traditions, largely preserved from their West African origin, have been carefully preserved. There is no doctor in this village of some 800 people. No village clinic. And a glance at the graveyard proves that people live into their nineties and beyond.

Like most communities, there is a strong sense of the spiritual. The Accompong United Church of Jamaica and the Cayman Islands is located just behind the cemetery and next to a mammoth mango tree. The co-existence of Revival and Christianity here in this small community is a reflection of the spiritual practice of most of Jamaica.

The Peace Treaty was signed between Captain Cudjoe and the British on March 1st, 1738 more than half-century before the abolition of slavery. The original treaty was signed in blood.

Nanny, the fierce female Maroon who has stayed alive through a strong oral tradition as one of Jamaica's first heroines gives an idea of the importance of women in the structure of Maroon society.

She is a Jamaican National Hero.

Happy Easter

I love Easter. It means kiteflying season in Trinidad, gorgeous weather (usually) and a chance to think about rebirth and renewal.

Hello House

This is my new space. It's very close to my old home but has a very different feel. The Cascade valley is like many other valleys in the northern range. Big basins of green that catch the trade winds and swoop them down towards the hot city. I am surrounded by large mahogany trees, a sapodilla populated by swooping bats, and a large breadfruit tree. Cascade has its own spirit. My red sealing wax palm has made the transition with little ado. A bit of sulking and drooping but generally he has rallied and seems to be thriving in his new home. Sealing wax palms are quite difficult to come by and grow extremely slowly and that's why this poor palm had to pack up his whole root ball and trudge across the valley with me.

My baskets are also happyWhich makes me happy. This house does not seem to be larger than my old home but it actually has more flat land. The soil is better as well and I hope to be able to do quite a bit of propogating while I am here so that I can return everything to the garden in At Ann's when I move back.

Isobel had never lived in the shadow of a mahogany tree. It stood tall, reaching towards the sky with a sense of purpose that gave off resinous clicks as it stretched its branches over the house. In the evening, the tree turned its leaves to catch the dry season breeze that rode down the valley on the cool trade winds. If she listened from the kitchen, Isobel could hear the tiny pops as the tree released its cocoa-shaped pods, setting free the little helicopter-spirals that took root in the crevices below the mango tree. Each morning she collected the spent husks where they lay curled like tiny sculptures on the sloping lawn that ran to the edge of the driveway.

That's what I wrote when I moved here.

I think the house has good creative energy.

Death Masks

The concept of a death mask intrigues me.
We take photography's sheer immediacy for granted.

Without photography, art, or various other forms of self expression, images would live only in memory. Preserved images are a form of immortality. I don't know if death masks were viewed as a form of artistic expression as they served the purpose of documenting and preserving.
Many tribal people are still deeply suspicious of cameras and will react violently if they realise that someone is photographing them. Many believe that you steal a bit of someone's soul with each image.

I photographed these images at the Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum in Manhattan over Christmas.

Believe it, or not.