“One person can beat a drum and make enough noise for ten; One person can blow a horn, and that little boom and that little blare can make a hundred others care.
And one person can hold a torch and light up the sky again. And one little voice that’s squeaking a song, can make a million voices strong.
If one person can beat a drum, and one person can blow a horn, if one person can hold a torch, then one person can change the world!”
It was overcast and damp. The flashes of white lightning over the ocean and persistent warm drizzle dashed any hopes of laying out on the sand by the waves.
It wasn’t an ideal day for going to the beach, but it was the perfect day to visit the shops and see the parts of the island we’d normally miss laying out in the sand.
A shop with sarongs and hand sewn dresses hanging in the doorway caught my attention. We made our way into the small shop, greeting the woman behind the desk before dispersing in various directions.
My boys went to look at shells, my husband Mark saw some pants that caught his eye, and I couldn’t resist the soft, flowy dresses.
We were in the shop for about ten minutes when the mood began to change.
A lively beat came over the speakers in the shop. Part marching band, part New Orleans second line, part Afro Beat, it was an energetic fusion of joy. The woman behind the counter began to dance and sing along. Mark and I looked up simultaneously and went over to her.
“What kind of music is this?” Mark, a jazz musician was eager to find out.
“This,” the shopkeeper said with a huge grin, “is Junkanoo!”
“Junkanoo?”
“That’s right. This is our music here. Right from the Bahamas.”
It was like nothing I’d ever heard. Familiar in so many ways but distinctively different.
“What’s Junkanoo?” I asked, having never heard the term.
The woman turned down the volume to the speakers and leaned towards us, elbows on the counter.
“You see, many, years ago during slavery times, there was a slave named John Canoe. Every New Years, the slaves were given a days leave since they had to work through Christmas. New Years was John Canoe’s favorite night. He would gather anything he could to celebrate. John Canoe would run through the streets banging pots and pans, singing and dancing. Soon, others came out to join, and then others. Before long, it became a tradition, every year to celebrate in the streets with music and dancing. Well, after slavery, people got really creative and starting incorporating music and costumes and it evolved into the music we call Junkanoo which has it’s own celebration on New Years Day. The biggest celebration is in Nassau. After going to church for watch night, people get dressed up and party through the night with costumes and music. It’s the best time. We have a smaller parade here in Freeport, but you must go to the one in Nassau. I go every year!”
We thanked the shop owner and purchased some things, but my greatest takeaway was that story. A story reflected in the landscape around me from the brightly colored buildings, to the rain dusted violet and crimson flowers to the smiles on the faces around, proof that despite the most despicable and downtrodden of circumstances, there was always a reason for hope, there is always a place for laughter and there is always a time for joy.
Wherever you are now, I hope you’re still smiling and dancing, my dear John Canoe!
And in case you were curious, here are some snippets of Junkanoo music :)