~ On Phagwah and Choir ~


HAPPY PHAGWAH EVERYONE! (Don't worry - I won't really write the entry like a philosophical treatise, as the name suggests).

Guyanese holidays struck again on March 15th. We had El Eid in January (a muslim holiday), then Mashrumani/Republic Day in February, and now Phagwah (pronounced PAH-gwa, though someone else also told me FA-gwa). Phagwa means Holi in Hindi, and essentially is the celebration of good over evil. However, it is also a very colorful holiday with links to spring and the rejuvination of the earth, as my neighbor tells it. Many women spend time preparting tasty treats with symbolic ingredients like rice shoots and cherries to remind people of the new life that spring gives us. For a more complete history of the holiday, the story behind it, what it looks like in India and in New York you can check out these sites:

The legend behind Phagwah
Phagwah in New York
Holi in India

Well, the story actually begins at choir rehersal. I am in Our Lady of Fatima parish choir here in Georgetown. It's a great group of folks (ladies, actually) ranging in age from fifty-something to a few months old. We meet occasionally at a choir member's house. It's an interesting group and an interesting approach. There aren't a lot of people formally trained in music here, so the hymnal is actually a collection of just lyrics. At first I was really frustrated by this because I can read music well enough if I've heard the tune once or twice, and can use a reminder when it's a song I haven't seen or sung in a few weeks. So learning by ear was a significant challenge at first. I think it's teaching me to listen better, though. At least I hope it is. The shot below is a picture of most of the choir members at an impromptu rehearsal on Phagwah day.

We had a water balloon fight ... but the balloons were too high quality and they wouldn't burst, no matter how much or little water we put in them ... so we just filled them and squirted them on each other. There was also baby powder ... much baby powder, as you can see in our ghostly shots above.

The "real deal" started on my walk home. It's about a 30 minute walk from Helen's house (where we rehearsed) to my house. Not 5 minutes down the road with two friends, a truckload of orange-colored party-goers pulled up next to us to wish us a happy Phagwah and to invite me to play, since I was wearing the uniform (a white t-shirt). I said yes, and we got gold glitter and orange powder thrown on us. Then the truck pulled away smiling and laughing.

The next Phagwah vehicle that went by was not quite as pleasant, as it came up behind us and without warning and dumped a bucket of water over us going about 30 mph. That was a little like jumping off a 30 foot ledge and hitting the water lying down on your back - OUCH!! But we're tough, so we just went on down the road. Our paths diverged when I wanted to go by another friend's house to say hello. I walked up the street and into Phagwah history. I don't think any of the people in this neighborhood had ever played Phagwah with a foreigner before ... so I was doused at least 46 times within a city block and provided with many packets of pink, orange, red, purple and yellow powder. My favorite was the little boy who came up to me and demanded that I bend down so he could rub orange powder on my face. What a flirt. As you can see, it was colorful and wet. Filled with good food, laughter and running around. I was exhausted by the end of the day. Next year I plan to go to the Kendra (the Hindu Community Religious Centre) where hundreds of youngsters and young-at-heart go to play. It's a little like your neighborhood ball team versus the big leagues. I was glad to have a warm up round this year.

When all was said and done, I arrived home with a smile on my red/orange/pink/yellow/smiling face.