The Gaurdian
http://www.guardian.co.tt/Tonyfraser.htmlCelebrating Belmont greats
Fr Clyde Harvey was saying at the funeral service of George Cumberbatch, part in jest and deadly serious too, that having suffered yet another blow to its body politic, Belmont, one of the salt-of-the-earth communities of Trinidad, was in trouble of going through.
In the last decade there has been Hector Bart, church lay leader, schoolmaster and sage to hundreds of people, who was high regard by the denizens of Belmont. I know of the story of a journalist who attempted to disrupt the perorations at a public forum of a man called Augustine, a student of headmaster Bart.
Accustomed to having his say as an ordinary shareholder of Royal Bank, Unit Trust and anywhere else that he would have invested his money, Augustus was rudely interrupted by the journalist. Surprisingly, this Belmont citizen, fully aware of his rights to speak as shareholder, gave way without too much protest.
The journalist thought he had had the better of Augustine on the day. He was however put right afterward. “It’s only because you is Mr Bart son-in-law why I didn’t deal with you,” Augustine told the upstart of a journalist.
The community also lost Kelvin Joseph, land surveyor and a Belmont stalwart cut from the same cloth as Mr Bart. Then there were Mr Lopez, taxi-driver, man of the Catholic church on the Circular Road; schoolmaster Sogren, and Mr Gamaldo who sired Victor and his brothers.
Who can forget the famous “Diamond Jim” Harding, Colts centre forward! My colleague, the late David Brewster, immortalised Diamond Jim with a story of the early 1950s when Jim was in decline and was being replaced by the young Shay Seymour.
Shay was injured-out for a big final, may have been the FA or BDV final and the “Belmont Battalion” brought back Diamond Jim for a last hurrah in Front the Grand Stand in the Savannah.
Fate or luck or simply wanting to “play a final one” for the people from that community on the north-eastern extreme of Port-of- Spain, Diamond Jim regrouped himself and hit home two of his thunderbolts one final time for Colts.
Brewster would tell the story at the slightest encouragement anytime we met wherever.
“The people of Belmont did not allow their hero to go back into the Grand Stand; they lifted Diamond Jim on their shoulders and took him back into Belmont from whence he had come,” David would relate with that gleam in those strangely-coloured brownish green eyes.
Later Jim Harding was to become one of the major mas makers in Jason Griffith’s band of fancy sailors.
To Mr Griffith—my mother always told us to have manners and respect for our betters and elders—one of the last standard-bearers of Belmont, keep going, Sir.
Of course, Ken Morris, master copper artist, has left his place inside the yard off the Circular.
In the instance of George “Ref” Cumberbatch, he was footballer, referee, post-master general, adviser and councillor to so many sporting organisations.
I remember well that even though the denizens in Front the Grand Stand in the early 60s swore that Cumberbatch was a Maple man, as a ten-year old and lover of Malvern (I admit and repent for the sin of not being a Colts man) and the Cha Cha Cha skills of the likes of Franco, Berassa, Niles and “Jap” Brown, I felt comfortable when referee Cumberbatch had the whistle in a Malvern-Maple game. He was a man of integrity and could be trusted. You know I never told him that when I got to know him. The things we don’t tell people.
I have heard that no other sight in the 1940s drove more fear and respect in the hearts of those who would do Belmont wrong than that of “Big Sacks” going down Norfolk street J’Ouvert morning waving the flag of Rising Sun. The band was then the symbol of Belmont as a community of people with their art and pride and not afraid and not bowing to anyone.
Historian Rudy “Fountainhead” Piggott taught me the significance of men like Sacks and Carlie Byer, who I spoke to during the last Carnival season. Byer, now but a shadow of his old self, told me he went to San Fernando to fight a man who was making as if he was the baddest thing in the place.
No gun, no cutlass, just bare hands and strength. Rudy taught me to look on these men as the warrior class of a nation who had to protect the steelband against colonial ignorance and arrogance.
Not only has Belmont as a community lost the likes of those above and many, many more, but it has also lost the generation who grew up there in the 1950s and 1960s, those who have moved away with rising prosperity: the Smarts, the Grandersons, the Clarkes and dozens more families who lived and had their being in Belmont in its golden age.
We lost too the Portuguese and Chinese shopkeepers, “John and Mary,” every last one of them, who gave credit and were respected for what they brought to Belmont. No other shopkeeper was so loved and respected in Belmont like Mr Norville; he too and the Norville shops have all but gone from Belmont.
No community could suffer such loss without adequate replacement from the generation after and continue to be what it used to be. And perhaps that is what is plaguing communities across the country: the absence of people of substance and the departure of their children in the normal course of social mobility; there is left little by way of guidance and example for those who have come after.
The question is how are we to reconstruct the heart and soul of our society made up in parts of hundreds of communities such as Belmont.
This column is meant as a celebration of the lives of the many noble citizens who have lived and contributed to Belmont and to country and there is no intention to launch into long-winded projection on “what we going to do.”
Just to say the obvious: community life has to be reinvigorated; neighbourliness, love and caring for each other must be counted amongst the values that are important.
Schools, churches, sporting clubs, Colts, Luton Town, have to be revived and made to play a part in the upbringing of the young. Alas! I wish I knew how it could be done, but maybe there are others with the insight into how to make it happen.
