The Carnival Season in my hometown, New Orleans, is underway. The season culminates on Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday. One of the pleasures of the day is to encounter an Indian band. My parents introduced my sisters and me to Indians back in the day when their parading only happened back-a-town. We learned their chants and songs. Any time of year, we and lots of little girls could be heard chanting: "My spy boy and your spy boy were sitting on the bayou/ My spy boy told your spy boy/ I'll set your flag on fire;"
as we jumped rope or played pattycake.

My mother grew up back-a-town. Even though our family moved to the West Bank, Algiers, we returned to the ancestral neighborhood to celebrate Mardi Gras. —Kate Hymes


Mardi Gras Indians
— by Lucy Hymes

Mardi Gras day at the break of dawn
warriors pour onto the street in fabulous form.

Spy boys run with flags high
to lead the band with lots of pride,

Braves line the street dressed so pretty.
Mardi Gras lasts only a day – what a pity!

Chieftains dressed fine and neat,
feather crowns from head to feet.

Satin, silk and beads in bold style,
one glance of them makes you smile.

Primitive beauty strikes a stance,
watch as they prepare for the Indian dance.

Tambourines beat rhythm all the while,
they sing and dance in second-line style.

Bowing, kneeling, leaping in the air,
Chock-a-ma-fi-na sung everywhere,

Chanting loudly Indian ditties
they wind their way through the city.

Children's eyes open wide
when Mardi Gras Indians parade by.