we be jammin'

I know it has been weeks since I posted last. To all my faithful fans (religiously checking the blog everyday) I offer my deepest apologies and the pathetic excuse of "blogger's block." This post has been three weeks in the making and I'm still not quite satisfied. Maybe I've become too dependant on photos to tell the story.

Dominica hosted the Creole World Music Festival October 26-28. Three nights of Creole music and festivities in Roseau from musicians around the Caribbean. We may not have known exactly what creole music sounds like, but we were up for a party. At least Justin was. When we found out that the bus left at 7pm and returned to campus at 4am, Justin was a little hesitant to bring me along. My track record for staying up late is pretty pathetic to say the least. For some strange reason, I convinced myself that I would be able to do this no problem, and that it would be a great experience. I told myself it would be great for the blog. Of course then I found out no cameras were allowed into the festival, but it was too late to back out. You will all just have to use your imaginations.

We met on campus to catch our transport Friday at 7:00 PM. Of course, that meant we left at 7:30, but the late arrival of the bus gave us time to run across the street and grab several drinks for the road. The festival was held in the brand new cricket stadium in Roseau, brought to the people of Dominica thanks to the great country of China. Seriously. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Windsor_Park_(Dominica)

Once we arrived in Roseau, we made our way over to the Cricket Stadium to check things out and were surprised to find that we were issued real ticket stubs. I was excited to have something I could keep as a memento of the night since cameras were banned. Of course nothing here quite makes sense, as hard as they may try. When we passed through security, instead of ripping off the end, they took the whole thing and put a cheap plastic wristband on! Typical.

So we walk through the gates and enter the field to find that millions of tiny foam puzzle pieces have been placed on the grass. These pieces were probably three inches wide and six inches long, and they keep buckling up underneath everyone. All I could think was it must have taken forever for them to be put in place. There weren't many people in the crowd, which wasn't too surprising considering the 100 e.c. entrance fee. Not many people here can afford to spend that for one night's fun. The majority of the group were from neighboring islands like Martinique, St. Lucia, and Guadeloupe. I found this out when I was "in line" (lines don't really have any meaning here) for ribs at one of the vendor's stalls outside the stadium. Shamika had a quick cameo when the french guys in line decided to try and get to know us better.

There was already someone on the stage when we arrived, and as we surveyed the crowd, realized we were the only white kids around. We were also the only ones in the crowd moving to the music. Now everyone knows white folk are not known for their impressive dance moves or even a good sense of rhythm. I think we probably reminded everyone in the crowd of this fact. I would even go so far to say that we permanently ingrained this as truth in their minds. But you can't go to a concert and stand completely still, can you? This crowd did.

The emcees were completely trashed and in between acts made feeble attempts to motivate the audience. No wasted energy in this group, though. It was bizarre. A French rap group from Guadeloupe took their turn on stage and the crowd managed to wave their arms back and forth a few times and that was about all they could muster. The rest of the time the crowd just stood around watching. I think there were more people outside the stadium where the food and drink vendors were than actually listening to the music. This may have been that it took forever to get a drink because there was absolutely no line system in place at all. If you wanted something you had to wrestle your way to the front and get the attention of the overwhelmed workers behind the counter. It wasn't as easy as it sounds.

After a while we went up into the stands to rest. By then it was past two in the morning and the main event was about to get started. All the way from Jamaica, Beanie Man graced us with his presence and an hour of unintelligible rap that somehow managed to move the crowd into a slight frenzy that lasted about 5 minutes. At the end there was a mass rush to leave that resulted in the worst bottleneck I've ever seen. One four foot wide gate in the fence served as an exit from the grassy field. One last band played, and I really felt sorry for them, because everyone was still trying to leave.

We made it back to the assigned meeting place at four and waited for the rest of the students and the bus to show up. The bus showed up at four thirty. The rest of the concert goers showed up a little after that and we hit the road. The driver was really considerate and drove super extra slow on the curvy roads back to Portsmouth. Justin managed to pass out, but I was wide awake the whole way willing the bus to stay on the road and myself not to get carsick. We made it back into town as the sun was rising. It was six o'clock in the morning.

That is really about all I can muster out of the Creole Music Festival. I learned that I am not very fond of Creole rap and that there is a reason why I don't stay up until six in the morning more often. The best I can say is that it was an interesting experience.