Come to my Kwe Kwe - keeping Guyanese cultures alive

“Most African born people do not recall a precise ceremony of that kind and function, not in the original traditions. My sense is that Africans have created it in conditions of exile to replace the duty of initiation, which in the original communities is spread over much, much longer periods starting at puberty.” (Eusi Kwayana)

Kwe Kwe or (que queh and sometimes qeh qeh) is a well-known pre-nuptial traditional dance in Guyana. It’s mostly performed in the country (Berbice particularly), but appears to be losing its popularity. This may be due to socio-economic challenges generally in Guyana or more likely devalued appreciation for cultural traditions. The note above is to highlight that though it has African roots, kwe Kwe was created from an original rite in the Guyanese creole context and ought to be respected/represented as such.
I’ve noticed that there’s an expectation to include Kwe Kwe (the word possibly means ‘rum’ – I’m not sure it’s etymology but this was given by Mama Vanessa of Ithaca which you can see in this clip) at weddings these days. However, the fullness of this being done days before the wedding doesn’t seem to be recognised. Instead the latter day ‘performance’ of the ritual for the benefit of the wedding guests/bride and groom is preferred. That is – from the perspective of the diaspora. The last time I visited Guyana (2013) I had the chance to go to a Kwe Kwe. I was a bit disappointed by the meagre performance of it. I had never observed one so was keen that this would be my first experience.

Here’s what’s supposed to happen. (bearing in mind variations according to preferences and affordability)

Buying the groom and bride
Back in the day apparently weddings used to be announced in either church or the village. The Kwe Kwe group would be invited to gather the village members to go to both the bride and groom’s family respectively. The head of this group – who will introduce songs is called ‘the Tutor,’ whose function is to call for the members' to respond; the tutor will also give a sign (verbally - 'bato bato') to indicate when the singing should stop (or drumming cease in the case where there is drumming). The night before the wedding, the bride’s family goes to the home of the groom to ‘buy’ him first. Then the group goes to the bride’s family to buy her. Buying is done with either money or rum – in any case rum is used to sprinkle around the place/ganda to invite seen and unseen positive forces to the occasion.

The dance – a hop and feel it in da one drop

The feet create vibration and rhythm of the Kwe Kwe dance. The dance seems simple, a gentle hop and drop of the feet whilst moving in a collective circle. However, it can be challenging if you don’t appreciate that the feet are creating a pounding affect as well as movement. Previously we didn’t need any drum but nowadays this seems standard or at least is there for backup. As Mama Vanessa points it in the YouTube clip I’d advise you to check out – this is because we used to have more wooden floors but now there’s concrete.

The songs
The respective family greet each other with songs – first being ‘Good night ay’ (including the family’s/groom’s name – Goodnight Martin or Marsie say); after this with the song ‘come to my kwe kwe’ which is an invitation to the wider community to participate and enter the ‘Ganda’ (sacred ritual spaces



On the approach to each family’s home – the group would sing ‘Coming dung wid a bunch of roses…’ during which the groom/bride’s family and other villagers will dance and sing carrying palm fronds and flowers etc.
The families receive each other (groom side and bride side) by singing ) the ‘Nation song’ to find out the identity of the family but then to confirm that ‘all a we a one generation’ – part of the same ancestral heritage in any case.
Once invited in (respectively) the family’s search for the groom/bride who will be hidden by ther family. ‘Ah wonder whey me Martin/Marsie deh?’ is the song to indicate a search is on to find the groom/bride.



Mama Vanessa of Ithaca village (now deceased) was recorded giving us her knowledge of Kwe Kwe - worth a watch on the link above.

Bride and groom uplifted

Once either has been found, they’re hoisted onto a chair. Members from the respective family will implore the mother/s not to sell their daughter/son (to indicate how precious to the family they are, a play perhaps to get more money/payment). The other family will insist that they are prepared to buy the bride/groom (suggesting commitment). When the mother finally decides to sell the groom/bride she’d stretch out her hand and await the payment (rum or money, which she’ll accept). They will put the groom/bride onto a chair, lifting them high in the hair.
Eventually both groom/bride are lifted high in the air, sometimes competing to see who is higher which would indicate who’d rule who!

Etiquette of marriage

According to Eusi Kwayana ‘it is clearly an instructive ceremony, teaching through play and drama and song.’ Although there’s a tendency to overplay the sexual references in the practice – what Al Creighton calls ‘lewdness’ or Mama Vanessa sees as ‘raw wrenk’ these sexual overtones are there as part of the general instructions or etiquette involved in married life. So such songs as ‘da gyal lay dung…and da man cyan function’ is there to indicate that there’s no point in being married (in union) and neither can get their groove on! So as Al Creighton points out: “the kwe kwe, like the folk songs, is didactic and is a tradition which upholds moral behaviour, chastizes promiscuity, celebrates chastity and brings African 'nations' together through a strong marriage tradition. It instructs bride and groom and serves as a means of social control.”
This is the counselling part that instructs both what they can and can do as part of the union (the expectations of a wife/husband).

Keeping the tradition alive

We were invited by the Mayor of Merton, Councillor David Chung (a Guyanese) to do a KWE KWE performance at the annual Mayor’s ball held at Wimbledon Tennis lawn. We donned our cultural garmes, did da dance and sang some of the songs as above – adding to these ‘open da door leh de man come in…all a we a one family,’ ‘run dung de mission dam,’ ‘small days medley’ and ‘brown girl in da ring.’ We were grateful for Mama Vanessa’s excellent YouTube video which we used to guide us. We were: John and Margaret David, Coreen Carberry, Cheryl Griffith, Osunyemi Elliott, Yeutan Crandon and Haydock Giddings (who played the drums). Guyanese High Wine (intense liquor) stirred the ancestors and our feet, so we were ready to flounce. We didn't do the entire thing - mimicking the roles of the bride and groom but hope we can do so in the future - with more time, space and preparation. Councillor Marsie Skeete helped to organise the event and our performance. In truth we had anticipated being part of the general seating and guests after we had completed the performance; however communication issues meant we were treated somewhat shabbily, failing to get the appreciation we felt we deserved. Still we were grateful for the experience and realise that we need to be serious about cultural retentions like the Kwe Kwe, which some seem to want but on their terms.



It is an ancestral ritual – positive one too - once this is recognised it cannot be practiced shoddily. Guyana has rich cultural diversity which needs to be honoured and valued. It’s true as Al Creigton argues that ‘ever since slavery and colonial times these displays were condemned as lewd, vulgar and gratuitous’ but that perspective was deliberately to discredit genuine folk and cultural traditions that were socially uplifting and engaging.

In the past couple of weeks I've had requests to do something for a wedding or birthday party that either featured kwe Kwe and folk songs. This tells me the need is there for revitalising our traditions, whether we're home or abroad. So we’re very much looking forward to continuing these folk traditions and to learn more about them and how we can bring them into new Guyanese diasporic experiences which might likewise influence/draw from what’s happening at home.



Haydock and Yeuton can't get enough of the High Wine!
Shout Out
All photos in this post are credited to the members of the Kwe Kwe group above.

See Eusi Kwayana and Al Creigton's articles on Guyana heritage

No MORE Colour Bar: is it really over?

The photos in this post are credited to Eddie Osei. They beautifully capture the energy at the last major event of the No Colour Bar Exhibition, the RAP Party and Late View - Friday 22nd January.

It begins with a seedling that takes root then spreads. Spreads, not like a marauding vine but the spark that inspires. Creativity cannot be contained. It thrives and seeks to reproduce. Its aim is expansion and transformation.

The seedling is formed in a sub region – if it was literal that would be deep in the earth. But the sub-region I speak of here is imagination. Someone birthed the idea, shared it and so it became uncontainable. Humility or maybe the secret making of things – the way magic occurs, means we might never know where the genius of the idea first took root. It doesn’t matter. The nod is to acknowledge the power of a single idea that knows it must spread for its magic to manifest.

The No Colour Bar Exhibition has come and apparently gone. It doesn’t seem fair, if real, that it is over. If you didn’t get to see the exhibition you missed something special. Reason enough to find some way to insist on another chance. Yet, a repetition won’t do. If what you missed was special and possible, then why not demand more. This more would be no mere encore, but expansive, transcending the limitations of the bar that kept the ‘secret’ hidden. Margaret Andrews’ parting dedication at the RAP party on Friday 22nd January reminded us that representation and showcasing of Black British Art has been just that – a secret. If one doesn’t know this secret, one assumes there’s nothing to know, let alone show.

Dr Andrews, Chair of Friends of the Huntley at London Metropolitan Archives (FHALMA) was serious when she admonished white establishment for failing to be more inclusive when it comes to cultural representation that reflect diversity in the UK. In other words, the ‘secret’ is deliberate. Many of the brilliant artists appear obscure, as though they’re new discoveries. The truth is that they have lacked exposure. ‘Shame on you,’ she told those in the industry who have the means to direct the way our society is reflected, but who make of art a privilege enjoyed by the few.

We know that what we saw during the six month Exhibition was a moderation of the immense works of art being produced by Black Artists in the UK.
From the seedling, one can tell much went into organising the exhibition, bringing about the fruit of success. Pride and tears combined at the RAP party, when the organisers praised one another’s hard work: the artists, volunteers, the collaborative efforts of FHALMA, London Metropolitan Archives (LMA), The Guildhall Art Gallery (GAG) and associates of each organisation. The exhibition benefitted from funds from the Lottery Heritage, but it was really the collective effort of all involved that created the magic.

Michael McMillan, one of the Curators, who designed the installed book shop, expressed that he was tired, and it was no gesture. Like others, the work was hard, even those who were paid for ‘working’ on the exhibition did much more than that – so that all were in fact volunteers. It would not have worked otherwise. Yet it could have. For unlike mainstream exhibitions, the artists loaned their work to the No Colour Bar for free. If we insist on their being more, for the bar to be removed then this draining of resources, this liberty which we know is often taken of artists, particularly of black artists has to stop. The organisers were grateful for the artists’ generosity, that was clear. But they knew it wasn’t fair, nor was it the general order of things. For the sake of unveiling the secret, so that we could embrace the magic, for now this had to be the way it was done. In the spirit of the activism that inspired the works in this exhibition we must collectively demand the change.

The seedling had its own seedling. Eric and Jessica Huntley were dedicated to social justice and recognised in this the value and significance of culture. Their activism was all inclusive – political struggle could not be separate from cultural development. The bronze bust of Jessica Huntley at the entrance to the exhibition looked on with pride at what their activism, spanning over 50 years, have led to. Of course, they were not alone. Bogle L’Ouverture publishers was co-founded by them and others in 1968. McMillan’s installation of the book shop charmingly conveyed the spirit of those times when undiscovered writers, young African/black people seeking knowledge about themselves and wanting education without discrimination gathered there to express themselves and learn. Thanks to the Huntley’s archiving, knowing that those details some of us might otherwise take for granted would one day really matter, we could experience a little of their world and times. The large map of London area spread across the centre table in the book shop spoke of a forgotten, even lost era, when one could find other book shops and cultural hubs that met the needs of Black people in London. Few remain.

Eric Huntley expressed joy at the numbers who turned out to the party. Tiredness coupled with humility showed on his face. He seemed enchanted by the portrait of him by Ebun Culwin, unveiled at event. The artist said it was not possible to portray him without his wife Jessica somewhere in the frame. It showed a man, quiet with wisdom and poised for more, if lighter work. He was humbled, as he knew Jessica would be too, and overwhelmed.

He had invited tributes from artists – poets like John Agard, storytellers, Like Mark Mathews – with warming tales beautifully expressed in his Guyanese accent; grandson Asante who did a rap piece seemed nervous, maybe not from having to perform in front of the crowd, but (subconsciously) knowing that his grandparents made the gathering possible. I enjoyed Alan Cooper’s, ‘to dream the impossible dream’ which captured the spirit of the exhibition beautifully.

There will be a digital tour of the exhibition across the UK and beyond. It won’t be quite the same but will still need our support. I came away thinking how marvellous it would be as, Margaret Andrews urged, to invest in a work of art by Black artists. This she directed at those who might have the means to do so instead of investing in the latest model of car! I have the feeling that Jessica Huntley will not be resting in ‘mourning silence’ but is right now, somewhere in the midst working her magic, such wonders we’ve yet to see.

Above photos Eddie Osei