As I sit here now after the whirl of the global carnival – I have many fine memories floating around my head – and after all the music that I have listened to over the weekend, it is the sounds of the Mauritian song, La Travailleur (The Worker) which I have going around my head. And I had the honour of hearing it one last time, at a private concert on my verandah, from the vital and vibrant group Jalsa Creole, some members of which stayed as billets at my home for the weekend. A band of renegades from the tiny island of Mauritius, they brought fun and laughter into my house. They were all so different, in appearance and temperament, as Mauritius, off the east coast of Africa, is a real melange of cultures and races – Portuguese, Dutch, French, English, Indian, African and even Chinese. Before the Suez Canal was built it was on the trading route from The Old World, to The New – and had many different visitors, colonisers and influences. The saddest story, about which the band sings, is of a tiny island, off the coast of the island of Mauritius, called Diego Garcia, that was evacuated by the British – all the inhabitants were moved to “the mainland” so the British could allow the US to have their strategic base there – and all those people are now totally dispossessed – living in poverty on the fringes of society on the main island of Mauritius.
Mauritius is small, about the size of the greater city of Sydney and is mountainous and volcanic. The view look a bit like the view from my verandah, so one of the band members told me. Very tropical and laid back. Sounds a bit like Bellingen.
Well the global carnival this year was wonderful. After a year off, I’m sure everyone really appreciated it even more. I know I did. So often, I looked around me, or through the lens of my new camera, and saw happy faces. Even the theme of this years mosaic project, led by the local identity Guy Crosley, (who looks more and more like Salvador Dali every time I see him, and is probably almost as eccentric), was happy faces. And there is something for every one. Haunting tabla and sitar music from India to the upbeat sounds from Africa and Latin America. A cornucopia of concerts, activities for the kids, workshops and so much colour to see and taste with all the senses.
I went through so many emotions. Happy carefree jigging to the Irish band, Sharon Shannon, who win you over as soon as they speak with that beautiful Irish brogue, before they even start playing their instruments. Sadness, as the gospel singing of the Café at the Gates of Salvation, washed over me, and brought tears to my eyes, as I thought of my Dad, who had died only 2 weeks before. “The Storm was Passing Over” for me, inside, too, as well as outside. I met up with old friends, and saw those I had once known as kids and babies, now grown up, with kids of their own. I spent some time with the wonderful women from Africa who were doing the hair braiding and cooking at the Kafé Karibuni, which means, “Everyone is Welcome” in Swahili. These strong and inspirational women, who as refugees, have suffered brutalities and privations that we cannot even imagine, but despite all, can sing and clap as they cook, and happily count the profits at the end of the day, and will probably send most of it back to Africa.
The African energy of Shasha Marley, the preacher like figure who held the audience in the palm of his hand. The beautiful backing female singers from South Africa and Ethiopia. The boys from Burundi and Congo, who drummed and danced and sung with such dynamism and freshness – their first big festival appearance, after arriving in Coffs Harbour as refugees less than 2 years ago.
The gutsy and gorgeous Mihirangi, from New Zealand, who has the energy and sound of a whole stageful of performers, creating overlays of sound and percussion, using looping and just the sound of her voice.
The fire event was moving and beautiful. I loved best the chanting and part singing of the whole crowd, who were joined in one voice before the burning wheel, each person holding their candles, and interacting in small ways with those around.
The beautiful gates, representing the four elements – earth, fire, water and air, with their fluttering flags, under which thousands of people passed over those few days.
But for me, what is almost more enjoyable and memorable at the Global, are the little scenes and events you stumble upon – the teenagers busking by the bins, the 2 Amigos amusing a small group of kids; the stilt walker who catches my camera’s gaze and turns around to pose for a photo; the monks making their sand picture, with kids and adults alike, watching in amazement and reverence – hardly talking, lest a puff of breath might blow the sand away. A jam session at the marimba stall. The kids milling possessively around the paper lanterns, getting ready for the parade, just on dusk. People of all ages trying to learn juggling and stilt walking in Circus Works, or being artistic and creative, by contributing to a colourful collage of tiles in the mosaic workshop, or making an individualised clay tile to be used in next year’s project. A chai and a chat at the Curried Away Indian stall. Local Aboriginal elder, Bea Ballingarry, closing The Forum with a circle in which everyone in the audience stood, held hands and had a moment’s silence. So many lovely little encounters and snapshots and surprises.
So, this was the Global Carnival of 2007, or my reflections of it, anyway. I think we are so lucky to have such a wonderful and beautiful event, created in, and by, our beautiful and wonderful Bellingen community. Thankyou to the organisers and all the wonderful musicians and dancers and all the people who went to the Global Carnival this year, with happy hearts and open minds, and made it such a fabulous “home-grown” event.
