Selwyn MacDonald “Lalaps” Liddie (1912–1974): The Drum That Awakened a Nation
SKN TIMES | BLACK HISTORY MONTH HERO OF THE DAY
In the heartbeat of St. Kitts’ Christmas morning — before the sun crested over Basseterre, before the church bells rang — there was a sound.
Dung. Tung. Dung. Tung.
It was Selwyn MacDonald “Lalaps” Liddie.
Born on January 28, 1912, in Irish Town to George Whattey and Emily Liddie, Lalaps rose from humble beginnings in a society rigidly shaped by sugar estates and colonial hierarchy. For working-class townsmen, opportunity was scarce. The cane fields ruled the rhythm of life. But Lalaps carved out his own rhythm — one driven not by plantation bells but by drumbeats.
By trade, he was a longshoreman. By calling, he was culture.
From an early age he mastered the kettle drum, soon evolving into a lead clown dancer and troupe organizer. At a time when Clown troupes were among many Christmas sports filling the streets, Lalaps distinguished himself not merely as a performer — but as a commander of spectacle.
During the 1940s war restrictions and 1950s emigration wave, when many traditions faltered, Lalaps refused to let the Clowns die. Once fifty-strong ensembles with tambourines, bamboo fifes, shack pans and triangles, the troupes were shrinking. But Lalaps’ leadership sustained them.
At 5:00am on Boxing Day, he would take to the streets with the Big Drum, awakening Basseterre with the infectious “dung tung” beat. By mid-morning, he led his troupe through “heave-ho” and “goo-dung” dances — thrilling crowds, sending spectators scrambling from the playful lash of the hunter.
Behind the scenes stood his partner in art and life — Sybil “Bill” Martin. She crafted the hats from Bata shoe boxes, stitched ribbons into rosettes, cooked tripe stew for the band, and when Lalaps rested, she donned the costume herself. Music lived in their household.
For over thirty years Lalaps carried the Clown tradition with dignity and discipline. His cultural zenith came in 1972 when he led a troupe to CARIFESTA ’72 in Guyana, placing Kittitian folk performance on a regional stage.
Though his later years were marked by humble work at Fort Thomas Hotel and declining health, his legacy towered above circumstance. On July 7, 1974, the drum fell silent — but the echo remains.
Selwyn “Lalaps” Liddie was more than a clown.
He was a cultural preservationist before the term existed.
He was resistance through rhythm.
He was joy as defiance.
In honoring Lalaps, we honor the working-class custodians of our heritage — the men and women who kept culture alive when history offered them little else.
This Black History Month, SKN Times salutes the drumbeat that awakened a people.

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