TERRENCE HONORÉ

THE NAKED truth about TT Carnival is that people come out to "play themselves" and to show their bodies for all to see. Not all masqueraders, I am told, are so bold, but each year nudity is being revealed as a main theme. It’s all about how much is covered and how much can be shown. Masqueraders’ costumes have thinned the lines, making the festival more a showcase of unashamed nudity than a parade of artistry.

The National Carnival Commission (NCC) would claim the success of its grand plan that was uncovered at the grand stand and across the Queen’s Park Savannah. It was reportedly the worst or best we have ever seen, depending on your point of view. A lot more was being uncovered for spectators to see, and the little children in the stand, too. What was the organisers' plan? I really don’t understand.

But the Carnival has always had its days and wanton ways, so who is there to scold this child gone wild? It has become much more than just children playing sailor with a little powder, or the music of the steelpan, now the cry for more decency is echoing across the land.

I remember the sound of the cracking whips of the midnight robbers, like Brian Honoré and others. They spoke to the wisdom of our ways, amid the freedom of expression of the Carnival days. And the calypso bards in the background sang out lustily in candid commentaries to the stories of the time, in great rhythm and rhyme. But then there was a change of tune, and people began to grind and wine. The gyration shook the nation. Pieces and patterns fell away in the masman’s design and only a little modesty has been left behind.

Now the bystanders, organisers and the tourists all come out to see how we are moving like the aborigines, the indigenous costumes taking centre stage. A piece of cloth to cover the private part, like the leaf in the Garden of Eden. We have come full circle. The fashion of our nation is nudity for all to see. What is next for our tourist plan, a full-fledged nudist band?

They put away all the frilly dresses and petticoats from the Canbolay, giving way to beads, bikinis and thongs, while wining and singing the popular songs. The Carnival has grown, but the decent covering with clothes is now gone. Confessing Christians raise their hands in prayer while the Carnival children wave their arms in praise to King Bacchus for the two festive days.

So now we are playing to the senses, no pretences, nothing else for children to see but the parading of nudity on the streets and stage. It’s nothing but skimpy creativity. No pride in our propriety. It’s "don’t care damn" when we dingolay.

And the Carnival children sing along. Two days of wine and song. Even the prudent among us now understand that the sight of bare breasts and chests has taken over our land. That’s the patented plan from the NCC man. The old-time Carnival is dead, we have a near nude portrayal instead. For a Carnival band to win the gold, people must be dressing nude, or so I’m told.

Beauty in nudity is a contradiction of Carnival creativity.