During some dances a sort of chant accompanies the music—a long sonorous cry, uttered at intervals of seven or eight seconds, which perfectly times a particular measure in the drum roll. It may be the burden of a song, or a mere improvisation:
"Oh! yoïe-yoïe!"
(Drum roll.)
"Oh! missié-à!"
(Drum roll.)
"Y bel tambouyé!"
(Drum roll.)
"Aie, ya, yaie!"
(Drum roll.)
"Joli tambouyé!"
(Drum roll.)
"Chauffé tambou-à!"
(Drum roll.)
"Géné tambou-à!"
(Drum roll.)
"Crazé tambou-à!" etc., etc.
... The crieur, or chanter, is also the leader of the dance. The caleinda is danced by men only, all stripped to the waist, and twirling heavy sticks in a mock fight. Sometimes, however—especially at the great village gatherings, when the blood becomes overheated by tafia—the mock fight may become a real one; and then even cutlasses are brought into play.
But in the old days, those improvisations which gave one form of dance its name, bélé (from the French bel air), were often remarkable rhymeless poems, uttered with natural simple emotion, and full of picturesque imagery. I cite part of one, taken down from the dictation of a common field-hand near Fort-de-France. I offer a few lines of the creole first, to indicate the form of the improvisation. There is a dancing pause at the end of each line during the performance:
Toutt fois lanmou vini lacase moin
Pou pàlé moin, moin ka reponne:
"Khé moin deja placé,"
Moin ka crié, "Sécou! les voisinages!"
Moin ka crié, "Sécou! la gàde royale!"
Moin ka crié, "Sécou! la gendàmerie!
Lanmou pouend yon poignâ pou poignadé moin!"
The best part of the composition, which is quite long, might be rendered as follows:
Each time that Love comes to my cabin
To speak to me of love I make answer,
"My heart is already placed,"
I cry out, "Help, neighbors! help!"
I cry out, "Help, la Garde Royale!"
I cry out, "Help, help, gendarmes!
Love takes a poniard to stab me;
How can Love have a heart so hard
To thus rob me of my health!"
When the officer of police comes to me
To hear me tell him the truth,
To have him arrest my Love;—
When I see the Garde Royale
Coming to arrest my sweet heart,
I fall down at the feet of the Garde Royale,—
I pray for mercy and forgiveness.
"Arrest me instead, but let my dear Love go!"
How, alas! with this tender heart of mine,
Can I bear to see such an arrest made!
No, no! I would rather die!
Dost not remember, when our pillows lay close together,
How we told each to the other all that our hearts thought?
... etc.
The stars were all out when I bid my host good-bye;—he sent his black servant along with me to carry a lantern and keep a sharp watch for snakes along the mountain road.
[6]Moreau de Saint-Méry writes, describing the drums of the negroes of Saint Domingue: "Le plus court de ces tambours est nommé Bamboula, attendu qu'il est formé quelquefois d'un très-gros bambou."—"Description de la partie française de Saint Domingue," vol. I., p. 44.