Door Of Return Book 2: Crop Over

01: Nightmares and Daydreams

Written By: Aaron Parry

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Feathers of every color imaginable adorned eager bodies. String lights adorned the buildings and railways above. Old and young stomped their feet to the sound of Soca music blasting through speakers. You could feel the excitement building — like the pressure in a freshly shaken can of soda — ready to explode in a whirlwind of color and pageantry. The spirit of a festival returning for another year was in the air and spoken of on the lips of everyone in the courtyard. I had been waiting months for this. Crop Over was just a few weeks away.

Much like every year, I was helping Uncle Lucius set up for his annual celebrations.Vendors would be selling their wares and dishes all along the courtyard. Every year Uncle Lucius was more than happy to take on the work that many other folks in town didn't have the time for. And yet, Uncle always found a way. Every screw was carefully spun by his own hand to make grandiose structures, like the wide stage that now stood in a corner of the square. He had delicately placed each string light in just the right place, giving the effect that the performers and revelers coexisted within an all-encompassing ball of light. I bet you could see his masterpiece from space.

I felt myself zone out as I watched the action in the streets this morning. Laughter filled the air while people tried on their costumes. A mass of locals had come out to show off their colorful outfits with feathers and sparkly jewels which glimmered in the sunlight. Many of the ladies looked like the most majestic tropical birds you've ever seen, flapping their wings and tails through the air with pride at their creations. My little brother took a break from helping my cousin with the arrangement of her own outfit and stretched out on the table I was supposed to be setting up. His lanky limbs hung over the edge of the table like a spider knocked on its back. He smiled at the clearly frustrated look on my face.

"Do you need to lounge right here?" I asked.

"I guess not," he said, continuing to occupy my table. I started moving onto the next one and heard him grumble at my apathy. The epitome of a preteen.

"I'm bored of this," he declared to the block.

I couldn't help but smile — still the same old Abe.

"Well," I said playfully, "do you want me to tell you a little story?"

This irks him fiercely. "Akeelah, I'm fourteen, why would I wanna-"

He was swiftly interrupted by Uncle. "I know what story he wants to hear! No better time of year than to tell the origin of Crop Over."

Uncle had clearly misread the situation, but Abe let him go on since he knew how happy it would make him. Abe sat up on the table and I plopped down beside him to listen to Uncle.

"The tradition of Crop Over goes back hundreds of years," Uncle begins. "I heard we have one of the oldest festivals around the Caribbean. When it first start, it been a way of celebrating the harvest — a parade to properly end the sugar cane crop season worked by our ancestors. A lady dressed all in white, headwrap filled with many, many flowers, would lead the parade. She was followed by cane workers carrying their last batch of crops. Men and women would dance, play music with banjos and shak-shaks, and dress up as some of the characters we'll be seein' at Crop Over today. Sometimes there'd even been competitions like climb the grease pole. The festival went on for many years, but stopped right around the time when sugar cane started dropping out in Barbados some eighty years ago. After that, was only happenin' here and there for quite a while. But, it was brought back by our island in 1974 to keep our culture alive. Since then, we been celebrating Crop Over every year as a community. That's a good enough answer for ya, child?"