Gazing at the body in the coffin it was difficult to fit it in with the man I had known. Indeed it was the remains of 'Sugar' Adams- the man of drums, who had died a long time before, perhaps since with the passing of his darling May Fortune.
Listening to Sugar on the drum beating for May the queen of the Big Drum, who can forget such an experience.
No Carriacouan musician has provided so much to the musical culture of this island then 'Sugar' Adams. He created his own drums in his own fashion, with his own hands. He was a specialist in the art. To him his drum was sacred. It was his constant reminder of his Africanism his roots- his links with the old souls. Sugar's drums were always occupying a place of honor on the walls of his room and as he reminisced of his drumming days his eyes would light up and travel to that hallowed symbol on the wall- the man was with his drum.
Around the grave the handful of mourners was an insult to the memory of such a man. One would have expected to see a huge crowd led by some of the leading folklorists on the island. Instead, the few villagers were merely doing their Christian duty of burying the dead. It was most ironic that Sugar was eulogized not by his people but by the native of Ireland who mentioned the happy moments that that ordinary man had provided for thousands at home and abroad. If Sugar could have heard those words he would have smiled that captivating smile of his where his whole face would suddenly seem to crack open. He would have lifted his hat and in his husky gravelly voice cry, "Thank you, my dear Father".
The passing of Sugar has created a vacuum in the cultural repertoire of our island. For he was the last strong link with our past both in music and in folk tales. Here was a man who knew the meaning of the Big Brum and all its rituals. He knew the dances, their names and their significance and drummed out their message. He had the power in his hands to summon those long forgotten spirits of Mother Africa. He had the ability to re-unite a man with his long lost tribe and to set him on fire longing to express his pride of which he has been dispossessed. With Sugar drumming no choreographer was needed to initiate the neophyte into the dance of his lost tribe. Sugar and the drum led, guided and took him 'home'. They showed the beauty of the African heritage and restored the pride of his ancestry.
Many beautiful and humourous tales had been told by Sugar and it is sadly regretted that such rich stories of knowledge are never taped and their stories codified. It could be that much is lost when stories are written for then there is little that each teller can add to make it his story. Sugar always had a tale to tell, how he dramatized and sang! He had a sense of humour.
Sugar shone in the presence of women. His flowery speeches and gallant manners made him the centre of attraction. He loved to flirt but it was all harmless and young women especially favored his company. He was always wishing to be young again. But such a wish is never granted.
The heavens seemed to be the only one shedding tears for Sugar's departure for out of an almost cloudless sky a deluge descended, curtailing the graveside ceremony and forcing a hasty burial. Sugar appeared to have felt that he had been away long enough and now was the time to be once more united with the old souls but especially with May who had long been waiting for the beat of his drum.
24-11-83 Justin Benjamin
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