My mother was an unusual woman who had, among other attributes, an inclination to laugh at anything and everything. In fact, as a youngster, I would often be puzzled at some of the things this woman would laugh at – me bucking my toe, for instance, or my sister’s Sunbeam Oil-Bath bicycle leaking oil – but later in life, as I started writing songs for Tradewinds, it gradually dawned on me that I had developed the same addiction to humour. I remember being almost hysterical at the keen humour in many of the Trinidad calypsonians (Spoiler, Blakie, Lord Funny) I had listened to as a young man, and the inclination to humour continued. Also, from my attraction to sardonic British humour, I was an early believer in the value of using comedy to deal with sensitive subjects; the humourous approach would not cause the ripples that the head-on approach would. Humour is part of who I am, so that while it often colours the way I see things in songs (‘Copycats’; ‘Wong Ping’; ‘You Can’t Get’; ‘Women in Love’) it follows me around in my everyday life; I find myself frequently thinking that way.
For instance: on the back window of my casa, facing the desk where I do a lot of writing, there is the usual diamond-shaped metal grille covering, and two birds come there every afternoon around 5 and hang out. They come separately, unusual for birds. One comes, sits on the grille and gives this single-note chirp every four seconds or so, on and on, until the other one shows up, then they stay for quite a while, sometimes doing a kind of bird-snuggling thing, but mostly just hanging out side by side. They’re always backing me,
facing the scenery. Then after 10 minutes or so, they fly off separately. Some days, the first bird arrives and goes into the chirping, but the other bird doesn’t show so the chirper gives up and flies off. As birds go, it is definitely weird behaviour. They come together; they go off separately; some days only one shows up, waits for the other one to arrive; some days the second bird doesn’t show. What’s going on? These are very un-bird-like birds. Today, the comedic light in my brain went on: the answer is that they’re both mated to other birds and they’re having an affair; you know, “a outside ting.” So they sneak away for a short time, but some days one of them gets tied up in bird traffic or something and can’t make the date. To a comedic brain, it’s obvious – mankind can’t be the only creature that is fooling around. You don’t think that married birds have an eye out for cute single birds? Come on. Get real. Those two birds are fooling around.
A couple weeks ago, I had spotted a sign “Bun Bad Min” on the back of a taxi in Georgetown, and it immediately hit me how wonderful if it would be if our warring politicians were to take that approach to their jousting. So I wrote a column about it; again, laughable idea being made to propel a sober point. Now mind you, the grapevine tells me that some of our leaders felt the suggestion to be disrespectful, but that’s the problem with these comedic approaches – some folks are lacking a sense of humour. A good example is contained in the recent development in the international airline industry where your airline ticket now provides only the basics. On many flights, free food service in flight means water and undrinkable coffee – everything else you pay for. They weigh your carry-on – over 21 pounds, you unpack. You can get more legroom, providing you have more money, and headphones for music and the movie are no longer free – plus the movie now comes with irritating commercials. Many planes have no blankets or pillows – that used to be free. So I’m boarding an American Airlines Miami flight in New York, and I say to the nice lady at the door, “Pretty soon, unless we pay extra for a seat, we’ll have to stand all the way to Miami.” I laughed, but I laughed alone. The nice lady gave me one of those over-the-glasses cold stares; no comedic brain there.
One of the regulars in the Tradewinds We Place nightclub in Toronto was a loud bald-headed Trini who would walk in the club, come to the stage, and immediately launch into some fatigue (the Guyanese equivalent is “tantalise”). He would do it every time, and this went for weeks – he would walk in, come straight to me, and regale me with some Trini jab at the band, our clothes, the stage, the dance-floor – one joke after the other. I know that’s how Trinis are, it’s meant in fun, but after several weeks of this it had become tiresome, so this one night Trini walks in and strolls up to the stage with his usual swagger, but I was ready for him. Before he could open his mouth, I pointed to his bald head and said, “Why don’t you put your two fingers in your nose and go bowling?” Of course, unlike the Trini’s remarks which were usually heard only by me and a few folks nearby, my riposte was into the microphone and the club just exploded into laughter. Trini opened his mouth to speak, realized he was done, simply walked away, and never harangued me anymore.
One night this week, I’m at a Ministry of Tourism function highlighting the start-up of Copa air service to Guyana. In the course of his speech, Tourism Minister Irfaan Ali, outlining some of the tourism incentives being considered, referred to efforts to speed-up the process of wedding permits in Guyana to benefit bridal tourism. This is a good approach to a serious topic, but my comedic brain jumps. I ask the emcee for the microphone and I say, “I’m not on the programme, but I just had a thought I have to share with you. I heard the Minister refer to getting wedding permits in two days; good idea. But here’s a better idea. You want plenty tourists? Offer them two-day divorce.” The whole place roared, including Minister Ali. In fact, I saw him huddling with the President later – perhaps they’re considering my suggestion. The Catholics will kill me; many of them are just like the lady on American Airlines – no comedic brain.
