Of bonfire, spirits and river stone
IKNEW from several months ago that the weekend of June 22-24 would have been super busy, with two events, the Jamaican Arts Odyssey (JAO) and the 10th Annual Charles Town International Maroon Conference and Festival taking place simultaneously.
These are two events I have covered over the years, and so I was thrown into a state of quandary, not being sure of how I was going to be in two places at the same time. I told myself things would have worked themselves out.
The weekend rolled around and I still had not found a solution. On
Friday, I left Montego Bay for Kingston, en route to Portland, where the events were to take place. I reached Kingston in good time, but, unfortunately, I arrived late for the first event of the JAO, which was a sort of a tribute to the late ceramic artist Gene Pearson.
I had missed the main address and ensuing discussion. I milled around for some time, fuming with myself silently, but I took comfort in the fact there was going to be a bonfire, drumming, singing and dancing at the festival.
I arrived in Charles Town about an hour before nightfall, and the place was abuzz with all the elements of a festival, people moving about aimlessly, food and miscellaneous booths, children darting as tadpoles would, vendors trying hard to get patronised, people selling items that perhaps belong in museums, etc.
I met and greeted some friends and acquaintances, and was really happy to see some of them. There was much hugging and embracing, even with people who called me by name and smiled, but whom I could not recall ever meeting.
The rest of the daylight hour concluded with the presentation of papers inside the Asafu Yard. I got my equipment out in anticipation of the usual electrifying performances from the Charles Town Maroon Drummers and Dancers (CTMDD) onstage.
Nightfall descended just as the last academic activity of the day concluded. Yet, after waiting for a while for Maroon musical culture to take over the stage, I was told the magic would be around the bonfire later that evening. I recalled the feast we had last year, around the fire, and my senses became impatient.
Soon, from where I sat, I saw flames shooting towards the sky, dancing frantically. Sparks flew into the dark like penny wallies. The orange radiance beckoned to me, and I obeyed. I grabbed my equipment and folding chair and headed towards the river park.
There, the bonfire was raging, but I was not getting any oomph from it. People’s back were turned to it; they were giving the drummers and some dancing children all the attention. In brief, the energy I was expecting did not happen, so I left the locale feeling somewhat disappointed.
What I did not get on bonfire night was perhaps reserved for the following day, Ancestor Quao Day. Taino and Maroon heritage merged, creating a melange of reflection, veneration, pledges, affirmations and dazzling performances. The crowd was bigger than the day before, and the offerings were rich.
The programme climaxed with the expected fervour from the CTMDD, on a dramatic note at that.
It seemed like some ancestors entered the excitement and occupied the mind and body of one of the dancers, and all the spirits broke loose. After many attempts, her colleagues eventually subdued her and balance was restored to process.
The moment I cannot stop reflecting on was when I dipped my hand into the water while bathing in the river and took up a black triangular stone, after being interviewed at the riverside. To me, that stone represents the triangular slave trade, which I had mentioned in a discussion earlier.