The still before the storm - don't let the lazy peaceful air of tranquility fool you, don't believe that the pots with coloured material in them is icing mix for a gaggle of nice old biddies to bake with......this is a bomb waiting to go off!! Look at the two little nozzles pointing down from the top of the little shed, is this some sort of de-tox station??

It is Carnival Sunday. An unreal and somewhat frightening calm hangs over the city of Port of Spain. It is everywhere, the air is electric and crackles with the static of anticipation, children cling to their mothers unable to decipher the sense of almost frightening expectation that has gray lips compressed in to tight lines as they wait. The tourist sense it, they don't know what it means, something is about to happen to Port of Spain.....that they know!! Is there a sinister clue in these pots of ceremonial mud?? The plot thickens!!

Is this it they shriek.....is IT going to happen at 3.00am.....you got it right baby....three am it is! and you better be ready let me tell ya!

At the appointed hour they came, men and women from all walks of life....ordinary people like you and me. Now! in almost trance like glee they anoint their mortal bodies in the ceremonial mud......in swaying unison they dance to "de riddum"......excitement builds......the attack is about to begin. The muddy hordes surge out of Rosalindo street, urged on by the persistent and booming power of the truck mounted DJ and the thumping riddum of their own percussion. J'ouvert.....the day has opened....the costume of darkness rules......will Port of Spain ever be the same again. Will we, the mortal cultists, ever be the same again??