EVERY so often the first glimpse of what we inherit from the past is an idealisation handed down from one generation to the next. In my village environs on the Corentyne, we are heir to a number of enlightened cultural traditions brought from the eastern part of the world more than a century ago. These traditions are not eschatological but are held up, in my mind, as a paragon of cultural freedom of expression. Yet, these traditions have not been well-chronicled, which ironically, dovetail nicely for exploration.

I am referring to two Indian artists, Bunta and Boney, who drummed and danced according to Luanda Naach-Nagara (male Bhojpuri performers) at Indian weddings along Corentyne, especially from 52 to 74 villages, in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, during a politically turbulent period in Guyana’s history. However, the legacy of Bunta and Boney is forgotten, buried as minor history without much significance. This cultural wound forces one to ask, where were the chroniclers and historians during a time when Bunta and Boney were at their pinnacle entertaining a fractured and fragmented environment along the Corentyne coast? The pressing question of legacy pierces.

To contextualise, and as so revealed in the records at Guyana National Archives as well as from secondary sources, the Indian community in the Corentyne region was formed in the 1870s through a series of stages. Indians were given an option to re-indenture, settle or return to their Janma Bhumi (land of birth). In this process, a majority chose to settle in Karma Bhumi (land of work). When the indenture system was abolished in 1920, Indians in the Corentyne region, and elsewhere in British Guiana, had already merged the culture of their departed and adopted homeland forming a unique Guyanese Indian community. Although their culture and some customs such as marriage were not recognised by the colonial state, the Indians continued to transfer, merge and produce them in Guyana at a time when the national cultural space embraced westernisation and creolisation as an emblem of identity.  Indeed, in the period before and after independence, the music genre of Guyana, for instance, was over ninety percent pro-European and pro-Creole in the national space as so evidenced in the national anthem, in police and military bands, and in radio programmes, reinforcing ideologies of superiority based on culture, ethnicity, and region. This was, and perhaps still is, indicative of how we lived.

Within this context, one has to appreciate how the natural drumming and dancing qualities of Bunta and Boney bloomed and blossomed. The delivery and distribution of their expertise were possible because of their own natural abilities as well as the informality (no cultural schools) of the Indian community that simply needed them. There were, of course, other options for wedding entertainment such as from many makeshift artists and Dil Bihar Orchestra, but an Indian wedding which is a five-day affair, to be glorious and memorable required the repertoire, aesthetics, and versatility of the highest order. Weddings, when well-planned and executed, provide a fertile ground for good entertainment, building relations, and finding spouses. It is not uncommon to hear remarks such as “it was that wedding I first see she” or “that wedding me hear he like me”. The bragging narratives as to which wedding was the best in this or that year in Indian communities is still much alive.

Bunta and Boney grew up in No. 58 Village. Bunta was the dancer while Boney was the drummer. The duo would receive invitation months ahead to perform from April to September at Indian weddings for a modest fee. They would stay the entire five days of the wedding, often sleeping on the ground floor of the weeding house on empty rice bags. Bunta would colour his face with bindi (round dot paste), wear a dress to his knees, and rings of sweet drink corks around his neck and ankles. Soon as Boney started the drumming, Bunta would hop gracefully into action bringing up his flute majestically from his hands to his mouth, leaning and turning elegantly from left to right, moving closer to drum, jingling his feet, tossing his head, producing a marvelous performance of Nagara, filling the ears and eyes of the audience.

Despite its grace, Nagara is often confused, unfortunately. The men who dressed up in women’s attire are not necessarily gay. The dress and dance of Nagara are to pay homage to the Goddess of knowledge, music, and arts, Saraswathi. In my conversation with an Indian student practitioner of Nagara, I understand this tradition was born in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, India, and was known as Launda Naach. The performers were all men because women were not allowed to participate. Launda performers were the ones leading the Dulha’s (groom) entourage to the Dulhan’s (bride) home. This tradition was transferred from India to most of the former indentured colonies of the world, including British Guiana.

My analysis of Bunta and Boney, of course, is a sketch, but I have provided a window into a cultural world that has been fading. While we may ponder why these artists never made it in the written records, and a few, if any, have emulated them in the modern period, we must recognise that they have provided a valuable lens into how we once lived, a human condition, muscled by the desire to keep their traditions alive in tumultuous Guyana reeling from ethnic upheaval. Bunta and Boney are gone but their memory remains (lomarsh.roopnarine@jsums.edu).