| Reprinted
from The Creole Slave dances in Place Congo -1886: (Used original spelling)
1)"The true Calinda was bad enough. In Louisiana, at least, its song was always a grossly personal satirical ballad, and it
was the favorite dance all the way from there to Trinidad. To dance it publicly is not allowed this side the West Indies. All
this Congo Square business was suppressed at one time; 1843, says tradition. The Calinda was a dance of multitude, a sort of vehement
cotillion. The contortions of the encircling crowd were strange and terrible, the din was hideous. One Calinda is still familiar
to all Creole ears; it has long been a vehicle for the white Creoles satire; for generations the man of municipal politics was fortunate
who escaped entirely a lampooning set to its air. In my childhood I used, at one time, to hear,every morning, a certain black marchailde
descalas peddler-woman selling rice croquettes chanting the song as she moved from street to street at the sunrise hour with her
broad, shallow, laden basket balanced on her head. Be covered by the roll of victims. The masters winked at these gross but
harmless liberties and, as often as any others, added stanzas of their own invention. The Calinda ended these dissipation's
of the Dan - ci ca - un - da, Bon-djoum! Bon-djoum Dan - ci ca- un - da, Bon-djoum! Boo-djoum! In other words, a certain Judge
Preval gave a ball not an outdoor Congo dance and made such Cuffees as could pay three dollars a ticket. It doesn't rhyme, but it
was probably true. Dance, dance the Calinda Boujourn! Boujoum! The number of stanzas has never been counted; here are a few of
them. Dans lequirie la y a-cd grand gala; Mo en chonal la yi t ben itonni.
Michi
Preval, ii ti capitaine bal;
So cocher Louis, ti maite cinimonie.
Y avi des nigresses belle passi maitresses,
Qul voli hel-bel dans lormoire momselle.
~. S * S S S
Ala maite la geile li trouvi si drile,
Li dit, mom aussi, mo fi bal ici.
Guatebman la yi yi tombi la dans;
Yi fi gran diga dans liquirie la. etc.
It
was in a stable that they had this gala night, says the song; the horses there were greatly astonished. Preval was captain; his coachman, Louis, was master of ceremonies. There were Negresses
made prettier than their mistresses by adornments stolen from the ladies wardrobes (armoires). But
the jailer found it all so funny that he proposed to him self to take an unexpected part; the watch men came down No official
exaltation bought immunity from the jeer of the Calinda. Preval was a magistrate. Stephen Mazureau,
in his attorney-generals office, the song likened to a bullfrog in a bucket of water. A page might summer Sabbath afternoons.
They could not run far into the night, for all the fascinations of all the dances
could not excuse the slaves tarrying in public places after a certain other bou-aj/oum / (that was not of the Calinda, but of
the regular nine o'clock evening gun) had rolled down Orleans street from the Place dArmes; and the black man or
woman who wanted to keep a whole skin on the back had to keep out of the Calaboose. Times have changed, and there is nothing
to be regretted in the change that has come over Congo Square. Still a glamour hangs over its dark past. There is the pathos
of slavery, the poetry of the weak oppressed by the strong, and of limbs that danced after
toil, and of barbaric lovemaking. The rags and semi-nakedness, the bamboula drum, the dance, and almost the banjo, are gone;
but the bizarre melodies and dark lovers apostrophes live on; and among them the old Counjaille
song of Aerobe Brad~re." ... End Reprint
2)
Pere Labat writes in 1724:
Dancers are arranged in two lines, facing each other, the men on one side and the women on the other. Those who are tired of
dancing form a circle with the spectators around the dancers and drums. The ablest person sings a song which he composes on the
spot on any subject he considers appropriate. The refrain of this song is sung by everyone and is accompanied by a great hand clapping.
As for the dancers, they hold their arms a little like someone playing castanets. They jump, make swift turns, approach each
other to a distance of two or three feet then draw back with the beat of the drum until the sound of the drums brings them together
again to strike their thighs together, that is, the men's against the women's. To see them it would seem that they are striking
each other's bellies although it is only the thighs which receive the blows. At the proper time they withdraw with a pirouette,
only to begin again the same movement with absolutely lascivious gestures; this, as many times as the drums give the signal, which
is many times in a row. From time to time they lock arms and make several revolutions always slapping their thighs together and
kissing each other. It can readily be seen by this abridged description to what degree this dance is contrary to al modesty... End Reprint
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