Indian Red! Part one: Suiting Up.

While the rest of the U. S. was getting drunk on green beer last Sunday, we here in New Orleans...well, lots of us got drunk on green beer. But we also had my favorite parade day of the year: Mardi Gras Indians Super Sunday.

Above: Chief David of the Washetaw tribe.

No...it was not convenient for me to have St. Patrick's Day and Super Sunday on the same day. That green flash was me, leaving the parade and peddling like mad to get to the next gig. But I did it, and survived.

For any of my readers who don't know, Mardi Gras Indians are the oldest parade tradition in New Orleans, and dates back to a time after Emancipation when African Americans paid tribute to the local American Indians who aided escaped slaves and hid them from white slave hunters (there was a big bounty for "returning" escaped slaves...even those actually born as free people). Under Jim Crow laws, African Americans could not parade openly on Mardi Gras day, so Saint Joseph's Day became the traditional day for Indians. On the Sunday nearest to Saint Joseph's Day, the Indians gather in LaSalle Park (just four blocks from my house) and parade through Central City. (On Saint Joseph's Night, which, as I write this, is tonight, each tribe parades through their own neighborhood: Lauren and I will be joining the Washitaw tribe in the Treme).

I came up Washington Avenue just as the Wild Tchoupitoulas tribe were "masking" or "suiting up," the process of donning the one hundred pound suits that take all year, and thousands of hours, to create. It was an awesome spectacle to witness.

Above: Big Chief and his daughters prepare to suit up.

Dressing an Indian Princess... Indian culture is passed from generation to generation, often from parent to child.

Above, Chief staff in hand, and ready to go...

Next the Spy Boy appeared. The Spy Boy is the member of the tribe who watches for other tribes approaching: other tribes may be friendly or hostile. If an approaching tribe is hostile, the Spy Boy will signal the Flag Boy, who will alert the Big Chief. Here on Washington Avenue, while the other members of the tribe are suiting up, the Spy Boy grabs some love and admiration...

Now the Spy Boy is joined by the Wild Man: his job will be to part the crowds so that the Big Chief and his retinue can come through. He also shouts the credo of the tribe, which always includes the phrase "Um Bow! (Won't bow), Don't Know How!"

Below: A detail of the Wild Man's suit. Yes it's creepy...that's the idea.

Wild Man and Little Queen.

Above: Second Chief Floyd and Queen Kim.  Queen Kim was dancing when I arrived, waiting to suit up. The only time Queen Kim stopped dancing all day was to have photos taken with members of the crowd.

Lauren had wandered off to find Washitaw, the tribe she would march with, and after Wild Tchoupitoulas was ready to go, I left the scene there and started up the street to see other tribes. I found several other tribes, including the Golden Eagles, suiting up:

Even for an Indian, a cell phone is a necessity. 

I found Lauren with  the Washitaw, a newer tribe who had broken away from Yellow Pocahontas a few years ago. Their suits are simply amazing! Perhaps the most beautifully detailed I have ever seen, and that's comparing them to some stunning work by other tribes.

Big Chief David above, with details of his suit below.

Below: Queen Rukia, whose totem is the Monarch Butterfly, and who dances like...well you guessed it The butterflies on her suit are spectacular. 

I also saw the tribe below suit up: I believe they are the Morning Star Hunters... sometimes one has to collect that information by word of mouth, and there is room for error (I apologize if I am naming this tribe incorrectly).

Suited up, each tribe was ready to march. I'll write more in a day or two, with Part 2, The Parade: I have a LOT more photos to edit...

[Afterward, late on Tuesday night: After writing this, I marched with the Washitaw for four hours, covering about eight or ten miles through the Treme, the Ninth Ward and the Bywater. It was amazing. Chief David took us to a seniors home, where his sister lives, and invoked the spirit of the White Buffalo to bring the seniors health and spiritual peace. We sang and marched, sang and marched for hours, gaining more and more marchers behind us. I just came home to rest a moment: the tribe is still singing and marching.]

From Mardi Gras Indian Super Sunday, this is Kenny Klein explaining it all...well, explaining part one at least.  

Mardi Gras 2013 (Part 1...)

Like Hurricane Isaac, a tsunami or the Pope, it was here and now it's gone. Mardi Gras 2013.

It was a soggy day (again), with predictions of heavy rain. But the weather held for most of the day, thank Bacchus! I tried to wake myself up at seven AM to get to Krewe of Zulu, which rolls at eight; but as many of you are well aware, seven AM comes really, really early, and what with Orpheus the night before, I was not awake til nine. I know, I'm a lazy slug-o-bed. But nine was fine. As Lauren began painting herself blue, I donned my finest Steam Punk gear, and we headed downtown.

Lauren, blue.

I imagine that when most people who are not from around here think of Mardi Gras, the image that pops into their heads is that of drunk women showing their bosoms for plastic beads on Bourbon Street. And yes, that does happen: the women and the bead throwers, and everyone else on Bourbon Street, are tourists. Locals avoid Bourbon street religiously, and head to Frenchmen Street and to the Marigny end of Royal Street. That's where Locals Mardi Gras takes place (at least, one version of locals Mardi Gras---there are many different Mardi Gras, happening all over the city: next year I'll try to get to a totally different one in a totally different neighborhood!).

The way to get to Frenchmen Street on Mardi Gras is to park in the Marigny (because of the threat of rain, it was a lighter turnout this year than it has been in other years: this was good, as we got a parking spot in the Marigny with absolutely no problem!). Then one puts themselves in the path of the Saint Anne's parade, which goes along Royal Street, through the Marigny, ending at Frenchmen Street, and one walks along in the parade, which, with stragglers, can stretch several miles.

Above and below; Saint Anne's arrives at Royal and Elysian Fields, a block from Frenchmen Street.

Above, this rider's bicycle is a huge shoe, referring to the Krewe of Muses.

Once the parade arrives at Frenchmen Street, the entire street becomes a gathering place. At every corner a live brass band plays (often made up of impromptu musicians coming in from various parades), or a boom box with mega powered-speakers is set up, and each corner along Frenchmen becomes a dance party.

We met up with Lauren's friend E. and her husband, and grabbed a spot under a balcony to watch the goings-on, and from which I could rove the area and take photos, as I do.

E., J., and Lauren  at our observation point in front of Yuki. Note the drink in J.'s hand: this is a theme you will see repeated often throughout this blog post.

E. creates her entire costume each year: she is a gifted seamstress. 

Lauren looking so adorable.

Here are some shots from Frenchmen. I took so many photos this year that I cannot fit them all into a single post. There will be a part 2, and maybe even a part 3, with more photos from this year's Mardi Gras. So here are just a few to whet your appetite...

Above and below: the lovely Ginger Schweikert, a member of Slow Burn Burlesque troupe, and a local business woman, dances to the brass band at Frenchmen and Chartres.

 

As we stood at our little spot, another parade, the Krewe of Cosmic Debris, began to meet up and dance as they formed their marching ranks. Cosmic Debris began in the '60s as a hippie Mardi Gras parade, and has continued to this very day, attracting the beautiful and weird to its ranks.

We followed Cosmic Debris, and ended up at our favorite breakfast joint in the Quarter, En Vie. Their open sidewalk cafe is a great place to watch Mardi Gras while having morning coffee. It was there that we met this Anarchist Marching Band from Montreal:

From En Vie, we followed Decatur to Jackson Square, where we found more dance parties going on...

We walked from Jackson Square down Royal Street, where I received two things. First, when I photographed this girl she gave me a little green souvenir of Saint Anne's parade...

Then I photographed these people who were, as if you could not tell, dressed as bananas...

...Who then gave me a banana with their phone number on it....

Hand written on the  banana is: txt or send pic to 504 xxx xxxx  please pass on  do not eat  happy Mardi Gras

 Gin Walker's dance pole from the Krewe Of Chewbacchus Parade mysteriously appeared on Royal Street, where revelers used it at random. This is a good reminder of our local saying: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas: What happens at Mardi Gras can come back to haunt you forever!

I love these guys!!!

Above: this witty costume refers to the electrical black out that occurred during the Super Bowl.

Baron Samedi, Voodoo Lwa of cemeteries (and star of a James Bond movie!).

Above: two lovely antlered creatures.

Above: this couple told me that today was their wedding day. It was adorable, until you saw the back of his costume, below:

Hey, at least his shoes match the barrel.

Above: when I took this girl's photo, she told me today was her 21st birthday. She seemed very excited when I told her I would include her in my blog post. I could not imagine a better way to celebrate one's 21st birthday than Mardi Gras.

Returning to the Frenchmen Street area, we beheld a pale horse, a demon from Biblical prophecy:

This woman's news-of-the-moment costume refers to the defacement of Eugene Delacroix's painting Liberty Leading The People last Friday. A woman wrote the phrase AE911 on the painting, which hangs in the Louvre. Note the phrase written on the woman's hip, which refers to a 911 conspiracy theory. 

Back on Frenchmen. Above, local musician Meschiya Lake at the party. 

 Members of the Krewe of Renegade Indians, above and below. In this city, where we have three kinds of Indians. white people can't be Indians, unless they create their own kind of Indian.

It was pretty cool to run into the Golden Gate Bridge, above, as Lauren and I are flying to San Francisco tomorrow. 

As we left the Frenchmen area, we ran into musician. Treme actor, and my buddy David Roe, confusing gay men everywhere...

So that's the overall view of my wonderful Mardi Gras. I still have many photos, and I will post them in a Part 2 in the next few days. Until then, from New Orleans, slowly recovering from Mardi Gras, this is Kenny Klein explaining it all.