Belize Jankunu Dancer prepares to enter the competition arena.

The  Habinahan Wanaragua Jankunu Festival (also known as the John Canoe) is one of those undiscovered secrets of Belize that is at once spectacular,  colorful and so embodying of local culture that it makes one feel it should be reserved only for locals – sort of like that special dish that is only shared with family or close friends at Christmas.  The date, usually a day or two after Christmas Day makes this almost a practical reality. Most folks, including visitors, are hung over or busy returning home from their holiday travels so it is mostly all Belizean, and residents of southern Belize at that, that attend this crowning Jankunu, encounter. The event has its roots in in Africa and Belize’s experience with slavery from its days as a British colony. So on the day after Boxing Day, I set out to see this event first hand.

My research  shows that the Jankunu  has its roots in male secret societies of West Africa, Poro and Egungun, source of the bulk of slaves uprooted by the British and forcibly transported to British Honduras to fuel their exploitation of the country’s vast natural resources. The name itself is believed to derive from ‘Njoku Ji’, the name of a yam Alusi (deity) of the Igbo people, of which Okonko, an Igbo secret society parade wearing masks bearing striking resemblance to the Jankunu masquerades. Also known in English as the John Canoe dance, the art form links music, dance, mime and powerful sociocultural symbols in an exotic display of male supremacy on the dance floor. The Jankunu dance is exclusively for males who are the dancers and musicians on the  African drums. Females are allowed as singers but that is the limit of their participation. The dance has been traditionally held on the slave off days of Christmas Night and New Year’s day.

Primero Garifuna Drummer watches the feet of Jankunu dancer intently to follow the rhytmn.

The Jankunu is part of the Creole and Garifuna cultures. The Creoles are direct descendants of British slaves. The Garifuna who were never enslaved and resisted British domination to the bitter end are a distinct ethnic group with their own language and culture. They have been the most successful at preserving and taking this cultural expression to where it is today. The Garifuna nation of Belize originates from an amalgamation of indigenous warriors from the Orinoco Basin and Central America, and ancestors from West Africa.

The Jankunu Festival is held at the scenic Y Not Island in North Dangriga Town, capital of the Stann Creek District. I had never been to Y Not but my  friend Mr. Peter Ciego from the Gulisi Museum in Dangriga provided precise directions. The island is on the north bank of the Stann Creek River surrounded on two sides by beautiful white sandy beach and on the other by a canal that runs out to the sea. I estimate over a thousand Belizeans and a few expats and a couple foreign photographers loading up their private stock collection were in attendance.

The festival is actually a competition between the senior Jankunu groups in southern Belize – but the  traditional rivalry is between two powerhouses – Dangriga and the village of Seine Bight. Although a village, Seine Bighters take their Jankunu seriously and it is a matter of pride that they are the perennial champions.My host had arranged front row seats and I was privileged to have a close up view of the action.

The smallest Jankunu Dancer in Belize steps into the limelight and wows the ladies.

I observed  that the costumes are colorful and gorgeous to an extreme. Pants are dark colored and the shirts white or light colored adorned with cross ribbons reminiscent of the cross gun belts of British military uniforms. All dancers wear pink masks, and this is believed to have been a way for the dancers to mock the British slave masters. The entire head of each dancer is concealed in an African Arab Bedouin style wrap.

The head dress consists of a royal crown festooned with multi-colored rosettes offset by small round mirrors and gaily colored feathers. The dancers wear leggings consisting of hundreds of small sea shells. The shells  shake and rattle to accent the call and thunder and call of the Primero and Segudo drums that blend so harmoniously with the almost hypnotic singing of the Garifuna women.

Each group is allowed 10 minutes to do their thing. The drummers enter first, followed by the dancers with the women bringing up the rear. Practice and discipline is evident as the drummers quickly take up position, the women behind them, and the dancers line up facing the music. The Head Jankunu does a preliminary short dance and approaches the drummers, twirls around and returns to his group and with body language indicates to a dancer to take the center stage and show his stuff.

Each dancer in turn does a dance that to me is an exhibition of male prowess on the dance floor. This dance is one of the most demanding I have seen and must be excruciating on the knees and ankles. There is not much hip movement – that is the provenance of the women in their own dance form but that is another story. The Jankunu is a satirical dance where individuals dress like colonial slave masters and dance off beat to a fast tempo drum 4/4 beat.

The Wanaragua is one of the few dances where thePrimero  (lead) drummer follows the dancer’s movements, and not the dancer dancing to the beat of the drum. If you look keenly you can observe the Primero drummer watching intently the dancer’s feet, while he drums in order to keep his rhythm. This inversion is against all normal dance practice where the dancer follows the tempo of the music and  not the other way around. It is believed to be another subtle mocking  of the slave master by doing the opposite of what should be done. The Segundo drummer keeps a basic rhythm going on bass and does not need to observe the dancers feet.

The Primero provides the intricate and fast pace that are necessary to follow the dancer who with hands outstretched and palms out travels as if on rapidly recoiling spring legs, almost levitating in a circular pattern to the drummers and around the arena before returning to his group. You may also enjoy this short video clip of the Jankunu Festival.

From the memoirs of Adriano “Danny” Vasquez about his life in San Pedro Ambergris Caye in the early 20th Century. It deals with the one art that cuts across language, religion, race and social barriers — music.

During the Esquipulas fiesta in January, 1924, Luis Aguilar who traded up and down the Hondo River arrived in San Pedro with a passenger, Ismael G. Amaton, a Mexican Army Major on the run from political problems. ”

It was night,” Danny remembers, “when they arrived and the band from San Roman was playing. Luis and this stranger came in just as the music finished. The stranger asked if he could borrow a cornet and play with the band for one set.

“The director agreed and that night we heard the most beautiful cornet music ever performed in San Pedro.”

They learned that Amaton had been a director of the Mexican Army band in Guadalajara before he had run for his life.

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The Tougher Side Of Christmas

By Venti Clavos

A lonely tear did slowly creep down
his tender cheek this day, With the
tattered sleeve of his flour bag shirt he
wiped that tear away.
O Lord so kind, he prayed as he
doggedly paddled on,
On this blessed day, O God, my Lord,
help me to catch one,
Just one fair one, dear Lord,
to carry home and bake
For my dear sweet Mom, and my
brother Jim and little baby Jake.

His mother in a small shack on
a grass mat feebly lay
With aching heart and painfilled eyes
watching the baby play
With a string of horse-eye seeds the
boy had found at sea.
Jim kneeling by the fire warming the
last of the seaweed tea
In his little voice saying, “Mom, we
should thank the Lord, I feel
That on this day, baby, at least, will
have a meal.”

He paddled on from early morn
till late the afternoon,
Without losing faith and hope, praying
softly soon, how soon.
And as he paddled he fancied
the sea beneath him say,
No way, no way, my lad,
no fish for you today.
Closing his eyes, he whispered,
Lord, not for my sake,
But for dear Mom, and Jim and little
baby Jake.

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