Carnaval, West Indian-American Style

Two weekends ago I attended what I'm told is the largest parade in the U.S., and yes, we're too early for Thanksgiving. This parade was in Brooklyn and featured no inflated cartoon characters, though I did see a devil, a snake man, butterflies, and many other fantastic creatures. I also saw a lot of bodies, barely dressed in the most ornately decorated bikinis, and a lot of sensual dancing. This was the West Indian-American Day Parade (also known as West Indian Carnaval), held every year on Labor Day Monday in the neighborhood of Crown Heights, Brooklyn. It draws somewhere between 1 and 3 million spectators. On this balmy early September day, my boyfriend and I took the subway down to Brooklyn and met up with a high school friend, Will (also the creator of sublime sculptures), who was in town for a visit.

We wandered around for a while along the parade route as the opening acts filed past--political candidates, unions, and professional associations (our favorite were the New York City corrections officers which rolled by in two nearly empty school buses). Eventually we swam upstream and found a spot that offered good views as the different Masses (as the parade troops are called, like in New Orleans Mardi Gras I'm told) prepared to pass the judges booth. Each Mas had a semi truck filled with speakers and a crew of organizers, DJs, and dancers perched atop a wooden frame dancing, sunning, and yelling to the crowd and their throngs of dancers below.

Though I was a shade disappointed that none of the Masses we saw had any live musicians, the costumes made up for it. Bright plumage, bejeweled bodices, glittering leggings, headresses--we were all mesmerized (especially my male companions). Personally, I most enjoyed the dancers' footware, from sneakers to slouchy boots, that each dancer had decorated with spray paint, glitter, jewels, or dye. I also enjoyed the inventive larger than life puppets, mounted on rolling frames pulled by key paraders and representing that Mas's theme.

Snake/scorpion man in frame costume

Unfortunately we didn't get to see any of the Masses in formation, catching them right before they were to head past the judges. We did get to see hundreds of young people, who, though restless and overheated, were clearly excited and proud of their elaborate costumes and having a lot of fun. Still, after nearly two hours of watching all that flesh shake and gyrate down Eastern Parkway to the pulse of highly amplified soca music on a sea of fuschia and gold features, I had had enough. For this year.

Last minute bead attachment en route to judges booth

[Since you've probably noticed that food is a big part of how I experience the world, I won't leave you hanging: I ate well at the West Indies Day Parade. Surprisingly, though, it wasn't the pricey styrofoam dish of spicy jerk chicken, dirty rice, and fried plantains that most tantalized my palette but instead the $2 plastic sack of small fruits that looked like key limes but behaved like lychees. Parade spectators in the know (those sporting flags of West Indian nations) were snacking on them, so I followed suit, buying mine from an older man who had dozens of bags hanging off his fingers. I thank my friend E. for later revealing the identity of my mystery fruit. She told me: "It sounds like you had what is the genipa, quenepa, quenette, genip, mamoncillo, or Spanish lime, depending upon which tropical land you're in. It is in the same family as lychee, that is the Sapindaceae. And yes, it is a pain to eat." Try one. You'll see why.]