Drummers in action during the Hussay celebrations. - Andrew Smith/Photography Editor

Every time Maas Riley tried to get the fire started, a gust of wind blew it out. The pot with the boiled corns was getting cold, the parade was going by faster than he expected and he finally had a customer. This was not the time for the fire to go out.

"A wah dis pan mi now? Di devil is a brute!" he said to himself as he blew on the coal in the rusting iron stove. The ashes went right into his eyes and covered his face, but the fire still would not start. The elderly man shouted to a barefooted boy standing next to him. "Kibba di pot pretty bwoy!" The boy sprang to action in response to the command.

Now just a few feet in front of Maas Riley, two large, colourful floats were being pushed along the road, as dancing women, enthusiastic drummers and one excited bunch of party-goers participated in the annual Hussay Festival.

Huffing and puffing

Maas Riley was noticeably peeved, because he had strategically positioned himself to sell as many corns as possible and now that the floats were right in front of him, the fire went out. "But dis is a real crosses!" After a few minutes of frantic huffing and puffing over the coal stove, Maas Riley got the fire started, but by then the parade was further down the road with all the potential shoppers with it. Luckily, the quick-thinking cook was mobile.

He had placed his coal stove and pot of boiled corns in a wheelbarrow, so as soon as he got the fire started, the elderly man was off in pursuit of the parade, the wheels on his wheelbarrow squeaking all the way.

Now the Hussay Festival takes place in Clarendon every year around the middle of August and draws hundreds of persons from all over the country. It's been going on for as long as anyone I spoke with can remember and is perhaps the most eagerly anticipated event of the year in some parts of the parish.

It really started out as a Muslim festival that re-enacts a war between Mohammed's sons, their death and burial. The floats, which are replicas of tombs, are paraded through the streets and then dumped into a river. Back in the day, there would also be mass stickfighting in the streets as part of the festivities. Unfortunately, though, that often got out of control and the police have since put a stop to it.

These days, not many people seem to remember what the celebrations are all about, but that doesn't stop them from having a grand old time.

In the heat of the midday sun at Kemps Hill where the parade was to start, three women wearing white blouses were dancing wildly to the sounds of drums being beaten by shirtless men. I asked the tallest of the three what the celebrations were all about.

"Is Hussay, man! Afta it nuh got no meaning," she said, still gyrating. "Is just a party. Is what di people round here look forward to," she added as she wiggled and dipped her way down the road. One of the other women pulled me aside and pointed toward a man with a handkerchief tied around his head. "If you want to know about Hussay, is him you must ask!" she shouted over the sound of the music and was off as quickly as her friend.

Beaming with pride

No matter how old they are, Clarendonians really know how to get down at Hussay time. - photo by Robert Lalah.

I went over to the short man with the friendly face and he gave his name as Byjoo.

"Yes, man. Is me build this one here," he said, pointing up at one of the floats. "I do it every year and is something that everybody love," Byjoo was beaming with pride. He said that the floats, or 'tadjahs' as they are called, are rather hard to build. They were very colourful and had some strange-looking symbols all over them. "You can't get the material out here to buy. I have to send abroad and then set it up at my yard in Kemps Hill."

"Wahoo!" As Byjoo spoke, a loud roar erupted behind me. Three men beating drums were standing beside another float, but they weren't the ones causing the hullabaloo. "Gwaan likkle pickney!" someone shouted. It was then that I realised that a young girl in a green blouse had commandeered a pair of cymbals and was playing a mean tune in time with the beat of the drums. The crowed went wild as the little girl dipped and stomped her feet as she played. Her facial expressions showed that she was really feeling the music. "That show you how the people round here love it. All di likkle pickney dem inna it. Hussay is a thing weh bring everybody together. Black, white, Indian and Chiney," Byjoo shouted, taking a sip from a green bottle.

A joy

You're never too young to participate in the Hussay Festival. - photo by Robert Lalah.

A woman behind me poked her head over my shoulder. "Hello, please. Is Hussay you want to know about? Hee, Hee. Hussay a di biggest thing happen inna Clarendon. All Kemps Hill! If a never Hussay, nothing wouldn't happen round here. Is a joy!" she said as a man took her hand and spun her around.

A dreadlocked man took off his shirt and started to dance to the beat of the drum. He looked up at me with a smirk. "Bwoy, Rasta, a just di livity. We is all one people. When mi hear drum mi haffi dance too," he smiled as a woman came up to dance with him.

Show of unity

By the time the parade got to Water Lane a few miles down the road, the crowd had swelled significantly. An elderly man wearing a weather-beaten cap leaned up on a bicycle parked by the side of the road as the crowd went by. He must have been more than 70 years old.

"Hussay is di only thing me see bring people together so. It did bigger one time aback, but it still got di feeling. If a never mi sick foot mi woulda a jump wid di crowd too. But is all right, next year," he said with a chuckle that turned into a cough.

And so the crowd went on through different towns and communities before the floats were dumped into the Rio Minho, as they are every year. One more year to wait before the return of the grand festivities of Clarendon.

Please email comments to robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.