CECIL INCE, writes from Barbados about Arima and the Feast of Santa Rosa

Until August 4, 1956, my mother and I lived in a gracious old home in Arima, Santa Rosa Villa, obliquely opposite to the church and, at that time, St Joseph’s Convent. Our house was at the corner of Woodford and Church Streets.

During the 1940s and early 50s, there was not a lot going on in Arima for a young boy, apart from football, which we played in what was then known to us as “The Square”, as opposed to the “The Park”. Strategically, however, we were well-located, for whatever did happen in Arima took place in that immediate area.

With generally poor street lighting and strict parental control, moonlight represented freedom for us to play outside in the quiet, almost traffic-free roads until long after 8.00p.m. the only other exception came once a year – the Feast of Santa Rosa.

The Square would be beautifully illuminated with bamboo poles cut at the tops to create a receptacle, into which lamp oil was poured. Two thin bamboo sticks would be tied into a  cross and a wick of cotton attached; these would then be lit and floated on the oil.

Those flambeaux would burn well into the night. Young boys, including myself, and young girls would run around and play all sorts of innocent games, while adults roamed and chatted. It was a most beautiful sight; to many of us it was one of the highlights of the year.

The next day the statue of St Rose would be carried, not by a truck, but on an elevated platform or wooden stretcher, borne by four Carib men on their shoulders. There was a large possession around the square – no distracting music or cell phones, just a very colourful possession of devotion to St Rose.

Part of my deep ties to that church is my great uncle. Monsignor Charles de Manini. He was parish priest there from 1896 to 1916 – long before my time, but he had contributed a great deal to the parish during his tenure.

Just prior to the 1956 celebrations, our family left Arima owing to my mother’s ill health, therefore, I have no idea what the festivities are like today. Arima has grown in so many directions – vehicles abound. In my day, the noise of oral prayer was the only sound of which one was aware, that is how the Feast of St Rose remains embedded in my memory.

Five or six years ago, I was very tempted to come over to Trinidad to Arima to witness the occasions, but I opted to leave my reflection undisturbed, and to remember it as I saw it last.

God’s blessing on all my old friends and acquaintances in that very special place - Arima