At some point, almost every time I perform, I make reference to the value and beauty of our various Caribbean dialects. It wasn’t always so. Growing up in Guyana, I suffered from the prevalent Caribbean confusion of seeing our dialects in a negative light, and only gradually over the years did I come to see my own ignorance on the matter: that in fact, our dialects are powerful and lyrical language communication, operating with very strict rules, and providing, in certain circumstances, the absolutely best way for us to communicate with each other. In fact, that is precisely the point I will often make, between playing the songs, and I use examples, from the various dialects, to build my case.
I have pointed to the various words or constructions, wholly our own, that we have created, and to the very clear logic underneath what at first seems like a contortion, and, to be fair, to how confusing we can be to someone hearing us for the first time. For example, I’m living in Vreed-en-Hoop and someone in town asks: “Where do you live?” I reply, “Oh I live over the river.” Hello? When time permits in these shows, I sometimes go into the different constructions in the various Caribbean dialects, and how lexicon varies from one territory to another, and even within a territory. While this is basically “serious business, Jack” as the Bajan comedian Mac Fingall, would term it, I present it as a playful exercise that provokes laughter and, most interesting to me, it often results in persons coming up to me afterwards with one humorous dialect incident or another.
Interesting for me, as well, is that in the course of presenting these dialect examples I have gradually come to notice the amount of