Colors, Costumes and Courage: My Miami Carnival Experience

The music was loud, thudding from the speakers tied to the trucks, through the tar and pulsating through the beautiful bodies that moved in tune to the beats. It was a kaleidoscope sea of beads and feathers. Different textures and materials, vibrant gems and enormous back pieces moved in chaotic sync along the road, as the sun tucked behind the warm purple sky. The adrenaline that rushed through my body, only intensified by the buzz from the rum.

Carnival is the celebration of freedom, who’s complex history continues to be observed in and around the Caribbean islands. Originating in Trinidad and Tobago, Carnival is deeply rooted in the colonial and religious impact the Europeans had in the Caribbean. Being secluded from the balls and masquerades the Europeans hosted during the Lenten season, slaves in Trinidad began Canboulay. It was a celebration of resistance, that evolved into Carnival after the emancipation of slaves in the 1830s. The tradition of celebrating this freedom was spread throughout the diaspora, birthing similar festivals like Caribana in Toronto, Notting Hill Carnival in the UK and the Miami Broward Carnival in South Florida. Unlike the celebrations in Trinidad that occur during the Easter period in April, Miami Carnival is held during the Columbus Day weekend. Having a diverse friend group, all of whom either celebrate Carnival in their culture or have attended the celebrations in the past, I was welcomed to experience the festivities they had enthusiastically shared stories about. They guaranteed my experience would be invigorating and life changing, which together with the clips of them at past Carnivals was enough for me to register in the same band as them.

Weeks before the festival, I bombarded the group chat with questions that allowed me to better understand why and how the event takes place:

“We’re in a band together, so that means we’re playing instruments?”

“What is the difference between playing backline and midline?”

“Who makes the costumes?”

“What is J’ouvert?”

“Why do we walk the stage?”

Met with only love and genuine appreciation that I wasn’t shy to ask questions that might've been obvious to them, my friends gave me all the answers I was looking for and more. A band is a group of masqueraders that wear costumes from the same theme. Backline, midline and frontline are tiers of costume packages masqueraders choose from. It dictates the price, coverage and how elaborate costumes in a band will be. The costumes are made by designers both local and international. They create a theme for each costume collection which masqueraders represent when they walk on the road. The band our group decided to play in was Wolf of Wall Street by Fusion Mas. This band channelled the “bravery and boldness of a Wolf on Wall Street”, which resonated with our group. J’ouvert is a colorful parade where festival goers use water, mud, oil, paint and powder to celebrate the start of Carnival. After parading the festival route, each band crosses the stage where they are met by judges who crown a winner based on the bands’ costume and enthusiasm during their short showcase. They shared how Carnival is an opportunity for the Caribbean community to remember the hardships their ancestors endured not only on the islands, but also as they migrated to different countries, carving their space in new places. The collaborative efforts and meticulous details fed into the weekend celebrations, mimic the same communal grit that is found on the islands.

There was excitement and anticipation brewing in the group chat as I researched more about the significance of Carnival. As a global citizen, I am eager to learn about new cultures. Knowing the historic value that it carried, I slowly felt nervous to participate. Expressing my timidness and apprehension to my friend, she understood my reservations about being in an enormous, high energetic crowd. Her advice was to release the fears I had; that this weekend was an inclusive festival. She wanted me to cross the stage so I could experience all the emotions that came with it. Her positive reassurance built up my confidence and elation for my first Carnival.

The morning of Dutty Mas/ J’ouvert, my friends and I arrived in shorts and tees we were willing to sacrifice for the colorful day ahead of us. Surprisingly lively after a long night at an all white fete, we trekked to the festival grounds. No makeup. Beat up sneakers. Hair wrapped and protected in plastic caps. No one was in competition in how they presented themselves. Whistles whirred and cheers charged the spirits of hundreds of people that walked, bounced or bolted to the entrance.The humidity from the grey Floridian clouds drew the sweat from our bodies. The rhythm of my pulse beat in tune with the vibrant soca sounds as I was quickly engulfed in the train of movement. The Pied Pipers of the festival- the trucks, led their bands along the designated route only stopping for people to top up their liquor bottles…or for those bold enough to do the splits in front of them. Tranced by the music that made hips tic toc and waists wine, everyone expressed themselves through movement.

It was an explosion of color! Paint filled bottles were distributed and quickly stained anything white. Clouds of powder poofed from side to side. Like a child getting rewarded for a good job with a sticker on their forehead, people were dramatically sprayed with paint after showing off their dance moves. People danced wherever the foundation below could hold them- to many that was the road; to others that was on top of the trucks, or the golf cart… or the fence…even the trees. Some men and women carried chains and wore horned helmets; Drenched in this sticky almost tar like black oil, I learned this was an ode to their ancestors (especially in Grenadian culture), whom satirically played into these devilish characters slave masters had made them out to be. There was an undeniable, saturated spirit of liberation that everyone radiated.

20,906 steps, approximately 9.30 miles was our movement count during J’ouvert. Both my fitness tracker and friends impressed that I made it through the day. My unrecognizable white tee was beautifully dyed by the paint and oil from the afternoon. People, just as artistically drenched as me, lined up in the grocery store, waiting to grab a recovery Pub Sub (chicken tender Pub Sub of course, if you know, you know). Usually aware of how I carry myself in public, I could’ve cared less about how messy I looked as I checked out in the store. It might have been that everyone in the store knew where we had just come from that contributed to this care free feeling, but a good portion of this indescribable blasé attitude I had came from the energizing freedom I experienced at J’ouvert, just minutes before. Fed, and feeling fabulous, I picked up my costume for the parade the following day, anxious to see how it fit when I got home.

My costume was skimpy, for lack of better words. It was a teeny tiny bikini that made my stretch marks on my butt look even more pronounced. It made my razor burn on my thighs look even more irritated. The holographic gems and ribbons did a decent job at hiding some patches of hair that I skipped, but it was there- there and visible to me. Putting it on and seeing how much of my body (with all the insecurities I had attached to it) would be exposed made me feel uncomfortable. Being a human being, I like to think the world revolves around me at some point in time. I think that… that’s what I tell my ego. In doing so I created this imaginary world that on any given day, wherever I walk into, whoever is around me will give up their precious time to stop and analyze the parts of me I wish I could alter. A valid theory to me which created an almost conditional confidence. Remembering my friend tell me that no one goes to Carnival to judge others or bring them down, I trusted her, not allowing those unpleasant thoughts carve their space in my mind.

Pretty Mas- the actual Carnival parade day was intense. Having my best friends usher me through the experience only heightened the euphoria that consumed my senses. It was a vicious and melodic ocean of stimulation. The soca and calypso anthems rattled speakers that were mounted on the trucks. Men on stilts, towered over the bands of people, getting a birds’ eye view of the colorful wave of movement and cheer. Glitter moved from body to body as people caught wines or were raised on shoulders. Unlimited liquor was waterfalled into masqueraders’ mouths so smoothly, almost as if it was criminal if a drop was to land on the ground. Feathered back pieces, some of which doubling the height of those who wore them, created an even more exotic maze that masqueraders were all maneuvering through. Glistening beads of sweat reflected the suns rays, only adding to the glow that each masquerader already radiated. Care and worry seemed to disappear as people reveled in the celebrations. The spirit of everyone and the authenticity they basked in, made room for me to do the same.

I danced. I danced with my friends. I danced with men and with women. I danced with strangers and I danced alone. I danced with people who looked like me…and people who did not. I danced.

It was freeing to be able to express myself without the fear of a judgmental gaze. That feeling was only multiplied when my band crossed the stage. Less than five minutes we were on there, yet it felt like time was paused for me to relish in the moment. It was a euphoric awakening, which sounds dramatic and over exaggerated only because there are no words that fully describe what I felt. People- no matter how different or similar they looked to me, carried so much confidence and pride in who they were and what they represented. They embraced everything about themselves. My inhibitions which would have otherwise stopped me from fully experiencing Carnival, were replaced by grace, confidence and courage I hope to apply to my everyday life.

Both the Carnival parade and J’ouvert drew every age demographic. Single people, mature couples, families with children, teenagers… age didn’t stunt who came to observe and/or participate in these celebrations. Pointing out this observation to my friend, she replied, “Carnival doesn’t age”. As a young adult I’ve categorized what should and shouldn’t be done once I’ve reached a certain age. To witness people with polar ages participate and equally enjoy such an experience, dismantled this idea that I have to align my age with times when I can experience the world.

The magnitude of the celebrations made it surreal for me in the moment. Remembering that this mass joy is a recognition of the challenges and hardships endured by the ancestors from the Caribbean whom, were brought to the islands from Africa, I was grateful to experience how their history continues to be honored and preserved. Though our band was not crowned “Band of the Year”, I left extremely thankful that I had the opportunity to attend Miami Carnival and be immersed in such a rich, powerful and uplifting culture. I am truly blessed to have friends who are welcome to share their traditions and heritage with me, exchanging greater understanding and appreciation for where they come from. I look forward to extending the same hospitality I was shown when they visit Malawi, continuing this never ending cycle of living and learning about the world and those who make it.

VIBES AT LOST IN RIDDIM

Music has an undeniable power to unite people. Lost In Riddim, the new Afrobeats and Dancehall music festival hosted in Sacramento, California, was a brilliant exhibition of how rhythm and beats transform into a language, understood and embraced by many. Founded by Jehu Manny Hunter and Fornati Kumeh, the two day event brought top-charting African artists to the lime light, staging a bright environment for people to relish being outside.

Having the pride and excitement of Nigerian Independence Day the day prior, the music festival was already fueled with so much excitement and celebration. The pre-party the night before the festival gates opened, set the hype for the vibes that weekend, where attendees got a chance to mingle and match impressive legwork skills. This energy trickled into the opening day, where thousands of people traveled to groove to live performances from Africa’s favorite artists.

Global headliners Wizkid and Burna Boy brought electrifying energies to the stage, where they had fans screaming along to their old and new hits. Rema gave an impressive and pulsating performance, his enthusiasm radiating through the waves of hands that bounced in sync to his songs. Alt musician Amaarae graced the stage with melodies so sweet, several guests who had not heard her music were quickly adding her hits to their playlists. To see R&B artist Rotimi pour out his energy despite spending that morning in the emergency room, only proved how dedicated he was to contribute to the joy that filled the venue- evidently so as guests cheered him on to sing more, which he did. Tems surprised her audience by delivering an angelic performance with Wizkid, singing their worldwide hit “Essense”, making it the first time the two performed the song live together. Tiwa Savage, the hit singer/ songwriter behind “Somebody’s Son” rattled the emotions of several with her smooth sound, where some were seen to shed a tear or two as she sang about finding love and the peace that follows it. South African twin brothers Bandile and Banele Mbere, better known as their stage name Major League DJz, kept everyone’s energy levels peaked throughout the afternoon, mixing Amapiano with American Hip-Hop.

The term “Afrobeats” has been coined to umbrella a diverse genre of music. Being at this festival, the vast subbranches of that genre were given their recognition. From R&B and Hip-Hop, to rap and house music, these genres were meshed together with beats forming unique sounds, identified as Afrobeats. How different African countries have curated their own fresh sound, while maintaining a beat that people can still two step to (or if you're a more advanced dancer, Azonto or Gbeku to), is just one of the many reasons why Afrobeats continues to cross borders, rapidly becoming more popular.

It could’ve been the sweltering afternoon heat in Sac, or the sheer joy that we would be blessed by the vocals of Wizkid, but everyone attending the festival had a glistening glow to their face. Seeing friends wave their nation’s flags in unison as they formed dance circles, reminded me that this festival was merely about music- it was a celebration of culture and the various facets of the diaspora. It made me appreciate the differences each African country has: our flags are different, our languages are different, our food is different… yet when Premier Gauo is blasted through the speakers, each and every one of us bolts to the dance floor singing or mumbling along. We are able to share experiences, relating to stories and journeys. It made the world feel so much more intimate to see a group of people enjoy themselves in the same space. There was almost a care free spirit in the air, where people felt comfortable to be who they were… “unapologeticlly Black and African” as one of my friends described it.

Our culture outside of music was even more showcased and put in the spotlight, as it should. Several attendees came dressed in their national wear, or accents they felt represented their country. Face paint, feathers, glitter, bold colors, batik fabrics… it was interesting to see how small details held so much value to some people. There were a few food vendors that sold African cuisine: jollof and goat curry, rice and beans, puff-puff and a few other dishes were available, which many guests appreciated. Some festival goers craved dishes from home, and tasting food that was so similar to that flavor, satisfied their homesickness. Even more beautiful to witness was friends who had not been in each other’s company for years, finally reuniting at this massive party. The ambiance of speaking to and dancing with strangers at the festival grounds felt so familiar, bringing back memories of house parties and weddings we’d attend at home. 

Being it was the inaugural festival, there were some issues many attendees complained about. The first hiccup being food and water shortages. Lines for the limited food vendors were exhaustingly long, forcing guests to miss performances as they waited for something to eat. Towards the end of the evening there was a shortage of both food and water, which became frustrating. The issues with the sound system during some performances left many guests irritated. We saw Goldlink abruptly leave the stage after a short performance as he could not hear himself. Similarly, Wizkid had troubles with the volume levels during his set, having Big Wiz and his fans annoyed. Also noted was the lax security that was sparsely scattered throughout the venue. A random stampede during the evening, left those in close proximity frightened and alarmed, a situation which could have been avoided if there were more security guards to enforce safety and control. The barricade that separated the VIP from the GA served as a mild barrier as guests nonchalantly veered security to get closer to the front. The cancelation of anticipated artists WSTRN, Fireboy DML, Johnny Drille and Ladipoe, together with the no show from Koffee had guests disappointed as they were eager to watch them perform. The organizers were able to address these issues on the second day, bringing out more food vendors and water stations to remedy the opening day’s problem. Tekno, Mannywellz and Shareen Amour were able to fill in for the cancelled artists, delivering just as impressive performances. There was an increase in security as well, allowing the festival to shine on as intended.

Witnessing the impact Afrobeats has had on not only the African continent, but how it has warmed the hearts (and feet) of the globe, made me even more proud to be Malawian. It was more than a showcase of music, it was a glimpse of the vast impact our continent has had on the world. Leaving the festival, I felt the urge and duty to share more about my country and continent. Further educating myself and others on the history behind the great nations that make up this continent I call home, has become an important priority and goal that aligns with my creative character. This festival has reminded me of the importance of telling and sharing African stories from their own perspective, which I will continue to support and work towards.

Till next year, Lost In Riddim!

GROWING PAINS: LIFE AFTER GRADUATION

Heat pressed hair, neatly tucked under a navy-blue cap, barely secured by bobby pins. The deep thud of the drums, synced to the adrenaline rich pulse that was rhythmically running through my veins. A diploma firmly grasped between my hands. A now paved path ahead. A path that is certain and clear. That is what is advertised, right? Four years of late-night paper submissions and wryly introducing myself as the student from Ma-la-wi and not Maui. Four years of early red-eye, a.m. lectures and being a part of a motley campus community. I was prepared for that. Yet no one described what life would be like once I cleared this challenge I dared to embark on. I was oblivious thinking that finishing a tasking degree would be the summit of my woes; that it would be smooth sailing once my name was inked onto that coveted university paper that supposedly granted the holder the qualifications needed to kick start their career. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Environmental Science and Sustainability, I experienced a low that I did not expect. Masking my feelings and ignoring parts of me that could not comprehend why I was struggling after this accomplishment, forced me into episodes of self-doubt and unfulfillment. Navigating through this phase has been and continues to be revelation of how our meticulously created plans can unpredictably be altered. Through sharing my experience, the harsh realities of growing up are highlighted.

As an international student, the joy and excitement that comes with achieving something as memorable as graduating, can be stolen from you. Prior to graduation, I was overburdened with the responsibilities of making sure I would be able to legally stay in the US after completing my degree- which meant trying to find a job related to my field of study, before I was given the receipt of my completed degree. It sounded easier when my international advisor explained the protocol and timeframes at hand, but it proved to be a disheartening experience. The details of how the US immigration grants work authorization is complex and can be exhausting to soldier through. Attending a university that boasts to advocate for its international students, I was confident that this process would have been one that was seamless, which is what I had planned for. Submitting applications, sending in documents… opening rejection letters from both the immigration office and companies I wanted to work for… it was brutal. Knowing the days in a place you’ve made home are not guaranteed is scary and disrupts the comfort you have created. Being a foreign student adds this extra layer of tension once you graduate. You are always in a position where you must think four, five steps ahead, constantly crafting backup plans for existing backup plans. The thought about moving home (or as the international office puts it “mandatory departure”) this early crushed my spirits. I had put in great amounts of effort to embrace this place, finding ways to adapt and make it feel less foreign, thinking I would be here for a longer time…and now I was facing the possibility of a “mandatory departure”, one of many other hurdles I was soon to face.

I gladly consumed this idea that I would be a desirable asset to any eco-related firm once I graduated. I believed this when I submitted the first few job applications, I did. Your ego is inflated when you not only finish your program, but finish it on the Dean’s List, with letters of recommendation to support the hard work you’ve injected into your studies. As quickly as it inflated, feelings of being inadequate sunk and burst my ego when all the companies I applied to rejected my interest to be a part of their team, with little or no explanation as to why I was not suitable for the position. I carried so much confidence before each interview, but constant email replies stating how a better candidate had been selected, transformed my confidence to mere apprehension. Imposter syndrome it was. So much rejection made it difficult to accept my accomplishment. I questioned how I could have graduated if no one believes I am capable of undertaking the entry-level roles outlined in each job description. I believed my talent and worthiness as someone who endured their academic program was fraudulent, seeing that I was not being hired. Maybe it was because I was an international student, which often frightens the human resource department as it means going through complicated immigration policies and regulations. Maybe it was because the economy during this pandemic has forced the demand for positions in this field to plummet. Or maybe it was just because I was not good enough. 

Graduating during a pandemic only heightened the anxiety and terror of closing this chapter in my life. I always imagined my parents and siblings cheering me on as I walked across the stage in my cap and gown. COVID travel restrictions altered the graduation ceremony I had anticipated. Tears rolled down my face as I crossed the podium, not because my name was mispronounced by the dean, but because I was carrying cardboard faces of my family who couldn’t witness this remarkable moment. I was crying because the people who gave me this opportunity were watching their daughter graduate from behind a computer screen. I was crying because my dad, who was so eager to embarrass his daughter and obnoxiously shout her name, was only able to whisper his congratulatory speech through my Airpods.  I am grateful for my aunts, uncle and best friends who travelled to ensure that my graduation day was filled with laughter and smiles, but I can’t ignore how tethered my heart was that my mom, dad and siblings could not enjoy this achievement with me. I continued to be extremely homesick weeks after my graduation ceremony. I spent time in people’s loving homes, wishing I could have a meal cooked by my mom or scold my sister’s for wearing my clothes.

After graduating, I was still left feeling unaccomplished, which sounds absurd as I had just invested four years of my life studying. Just weeks after graduation, having checked off this significant goal, I was lost. I had put so much emphasis on finishing my bachelor’s degree, that I didn’t know what else I could do. I had been a student for most of my life that it was what I was used to. My study routine was engraved in my lifestyle; Complaining about writing lab reports, relating to student procrastination memes, sleeping behind my books in the library… that was what I had known for a chunk of my life. It was boredom for the most part, but I lacked the enthusiasm I once had when I was a student; the enthusiasm that drove me to new places or to cook a nutritious meal. I centered my life around being a student, efficiently curating my schedule to fit these activities with my studies, yet now, with more disposable time before me, I couldn’t have been bothered to use it.

As a result of these feelings harboring in my space, I struggled socially, emotionally and creatively. Most of my friends were continuing with their studies or started working. Many of my peers, also international students, were able to secure their OPT and find companies willing to adopt an international hire. It looked like they all had a plan they were working towards when all I had was a flimsy, unsolidified outline. It was difficult for me to express my feelings to people who cared about me, because I didn’t think the reasoning behind my feelings was valid. “Why are you unhappy? You just graduated right?” or “OMG, you graduated?! You must be so relieved and carefree now”, were just some of the responses I created in my head that discouraged me from sharing my experience. I didn’t think my worries would be relatable nor did I think my frustration would be taken seriously. I masked most of it with a brave face, which I now realized amplified the magnitude of my meltdown. I am one to soldier on, rarely asking for help. This is not to say others are uncapable of helping, I often feel asking for help is inconveniencing others. Being so engrossed in my worry, I could not find the urgency to pick up my camera, a pen or a paintbrush. I blocked off the outlets that I knew re-centered me. I convinced myself that time spent creating anything other than a clean resume would be time wasted. There was so much mess in my life that I did not preserve the part of myself that allowed me to reimagine and release. 

As much discomfort and worry this rollercoaster of post-grad life has been, I have had some of my best moments during this period. I have found the inspiration to continue building my website, using it as an additional platform to inspire others. More free time allowed me to travel to new states and countries with friends, where I made lasting bonds and memories that I hold close to me. I have explored more creative avenues, igniting the beginning of projects I soon will share. Reconnecting with loved ones, offering my time as they exchange theirs, has opened my heart to understanding how gifted I am. No matter what I am faced with, I have the luxury of relying on the spirits of others who want to see me excel. I had a framework that was my friends and family to reassure me that I was headed in the right direction, even if I did not see it myself. It was these slivers of positivity that I needed to keep going… to keep sending in my cover letters and resume… to keep hounding the immigration office to grant my OPT. 

This period has been awkward and has revealed several truths about this life. The first being that as much as we think we are independent and in control of our unique journeys, there will be times where unfavorable conditions will be met; where we have little to no power over the situations. This is not equivalent to allowing these challenges to determine your future, but rather urging you to proactively find alternative ways to achieve what you want, given your circumstances. I have realized that having a reliable, solid support system, where I can reach out for assistance when the load of whatever I am going through seems overbearing, will most likely change my outlook, making the world look less grim. Asking for help does not diminish one’s independency, but rather equips you with the strength you need to push forward. I learned having seasons of rest are just as necessary as seasons of hard work. Self-reflection, gratitude and self-recognition when we are still, reveals just how capable we are at excelling - in all aspects of life. I learned that taking time to pause and celebrate gives you more fuel to continue pursuing our various goals. 

I had to remind myself that one of the beauties of being human is we are multitalented beings, masterly able to take on a variety of paths.  Graduating college was just one goal of mine; it was not the final destination I had been treating it as. Writing down the other goals I wanted to achieve in all the aspects of my life helped me realign my purpose. Categorizing my targets: financial, social, emotional, spiritual, health, entertainment, creative etc. has given me the visual shove I need on days when I do not know what to do with my time. Looking at a list and seeing what I could work on encourages me to spend days being productive. Being honest with myself, about my feelings and intentions allows me to organize and prioritize my reactions to situations that I am not in control of. We control what we can: studying to get good grades, graduating, sending out resumes. What unravels after we have consciously put in the effort is merely up to others and up to the working universe to decide. Our response to that decision is then back in our control, where we are constantly exchanging that power. 

My path is slowly becoming clearer. I am excited to mold my future no matter what circumstances I am in, celebrating each transition and accolade as I do so. I hope anyone chartering new stages in their life, does the same. 

Sending so much love,

Cheyenne