Bois

BOIS!

By NLJ

The light of the flambeaux seems at home in his eyes.
He swings his bois like a flash of Lightning, and the flame blazes.
In an arena filled with the scent of burning kerosene, and the shouts of anxious men,
his blood boiled, as he sparred with an invisible enemy.
Carray, Carray, to the drumming, who knew him better than the chantwell,
their lavway, telling tales of his prowess, and his conquest; warning his opponents while daring them to enter the ring.
In the hole in the corner they would drip, but not he;
As their red droplets mix with the dirt, the bois would cry out,
hungry, hungry like a belly empty, a belly always empty.
Vengeance would be his, in the cracking of a skull, or the breaking of a rib.

What happened in Moruga, on Friday 24th January, 2020, can’t stay there. Whack, whack, wood. No this is not the place to begin. Have you ever heard of Bois? a piece of wood, severed from a poui tree. A piece of wood, bonded to a master, who pays the tree, and cuts a branch. Who shaves, burn, and feeds that branch. A master, who sits, prays, and meditate; speaking with the branch and listing to its hunger. A promise is made, to give the branch both blood and glory. This is a bois, and in the hands of its owner, it is more deadly than a sharpened blade, or a piercing bullet.

To see the bond of the bois, and the man, a visit to a Gayelle is a must, and thus began our road trip to the Gayelle in Moruga, loosing and finding our way on a somewhat smooth, but hilly terrain, sparsely populated with houses, the city was far behind us. I expected a few people to be there, but the threat of blood draws a crowd, and the Gayelle was crammed when we arrived.

The evening was cool, the light breeze, carried the scent of cigarette smoke, and incense; we had arrived late, missing the ritual of prayers to the ancestors. We had missed the lighting of candle, the burning of incense, and the sprinkling of puncheon rum in the four corners of the Gayelle. How many spirits were out that night, would have been hard to say, but the drums were rolling, and the chantwells were singing praises to the bois and the man.

The Gayelle started slowly, with a few disqualifications, and a restless crowd who came or see a man bleed. But there was plenty Carray.
“Bois! “ they shouted, this was followed by a few expletives, and loud laughter.
“What taking so long? come out and fight nah man. Bois!”. The tension in the crowd was so rigid, it was like a force on its own. When a bois man dressed in red, entered the ring, and he began his carray to the rolling of the drums, and the lavway of the chantwell, the crowd went wild. But he danced for two minutes and won by default.

The crowd was disappointed yet again, he was the third unchallenged competitor. Then a tall limber gentleman, with the swagger of a dude who knew what he was about, entered the ring, he to was dressed in a red track suit, red being the colour of St Mary's Village. But he was different, he looked intense, his swagger was light like Ali as he carray the four corners of the ring. The drums were rolling and the song praising his prowess was being sung. His bois, seem to be an extension of his arm, and tricked the eyes, appearing to Bend like a limb. My friend was busy taking pictures, and the crowd was chanting,
     “Bois”. I was captivated by this lanky dude who looked as though he belonged to a world of fey.

When a challenger entered the ring; the crowd roared. Both bois men were excellent, they sparred, pushed, and pulled, and bend. They danced, and dodged, the drums rolled and, the crowd roared, and shouted,
     "Bois". A lot of entertaining was done. At the end of it all, the winner was lifted up by his opponent. It showed bois as a sport of pride, and each bois man, had a dignity of his own.