I wished to write a story of how a spent a most beautiful day in the Island of Maio. I wished to tell you about the adventure of taking a boat just before the first sun rays kiss the islands good morning. I wanted to see dolphins dancing around the wabbly boat and arrive yet early morning on an island where serenity rules and the people are warm and welcoming. I whished to walk you through the historical places, let you lie on the white sand beach next to me and take a siesta after our seafood lunch. I wish to invite you to my island adventure, but I can’t. At least not yet. It never happened. Don’t worry! I do have other stories to tell you and one of these days I will take you along to another unknown island.
Yesterday, after going to sleep late, I woke up reluctnatly at the sound of an alarm I barely recognized. 4:40 am! I got up, walked towards the door where the alarm was, pressed the snoozed buttom, and return to bed. I felt drunked of sleep and could not bring myself to think clearly about why the alarm was sounding off at such an ungodly hour. Had I not gone to bed just a few hours ago? I barely touched the hard mattress and the alarm came off again. This time it hit me that I had 10 minutes to get ready for my strip to the Island of Maio, where I had never been before. I was excited about spending a day at a new island and sun-bathing at a beautiful white sand beach while sharing stories and remanescing about earlier days with my childhood friend. My friend is from Maio. I met him during a month-long gathering of Pioneiros of all the islands (see note). He was 21 and I was 10. He was a promising musician and I was curious girl who was the chief of the Pioneiros of S. Nicolau. He used to teach me and my friends beautiful songs he composed. I used to sing his songs along with a group of other kids who loved him for being talented and for caring about us. I was excited and happy when he wrote one for me.
I had no time to think about music when I first go up this morning. I got myself ready in record time and sat on my bed waiting for his phone call. 5:10. He will be here soon. 5:23. Cape Verdeans are always late. 5:37. I am going to catch a snooze until he calls. 6:43. I wake up unsure if I missed his call. I had not. I call him and he does not pick up. 9:33. I come down the stairs and have to explain to my causin and his wife why I was still at the house. I tell my causin’s wife, “I hope nothing bad happened to him.” She shakes her head and responds, “Off course not. Cape Verdeans can´t keep their word.`` They don´t?! I certainly do. ´´Watch it. He went out last night, and could not get up this morning.” She adds. I can´t say was surprised at her statement. This is the second weekend in a row that someone who appears trustworthy has inviting me to something I am looking forward to doing and ends up not following through. “Maybe, one of the lessons I need to learn from this trip is to be more patient and don’t sweat the small stuff.” I tried to convince myself. No need to let myself get too upset. I already had my new black and white bikini on and my bag was all set for the beach. I grabbed my things and went to the nearby beach with my causin. Instead of a long stretch of glistening white sand, there was a narrowor and short muddy-looking black sandy beach starring back at me. My lack of excitement about the lack of beauty of the beach quickly dissipated once my body touched the fresh and clean salty water. The ocean welcomed me with sweetness and calmness. It had been a while since I had let my body be carried away by such lovely waves. Afterwards, the family and I travel Cidade Velha, the first capital of Cape Verde Islands to have lunch and enjoy an afternoon under the trees near a historic beach. Cidade Velha might soon be considered one of the patrimony of the world due to its significant place in world’s history during the 15th and 16th century.
On our way to Cidade Velha, I witnessed for the first time a celebration of Tabanka. In some ways, it is as if I was being taken back centuries ago during the time of colonization when the slaves found in Tabanka a vehicle of expression for their beliefs and their feelings of brotherhood. The strong colors dancing in front of my eyes and the clothing worn by some of the participants caught my attention immediately. There were young boys waving flags of different colors and others carrying 4-feet long boats. A few men were playing drums while one seemed to be making noise from a big sea shell. Behind these men, was a lady in a wedding dress and number of young women wearing bride’s maid dresses of different in-your-face colors. I later found out that these people were representing royal figures. Thus, instead of a bride, I had seen the queen of Tabanka. Following the queen and her royal entourage was a number of people, young and old, moving to the sound of the drums. They appeared happy and engaged in the festivity of the moment. In the mist of the happy celebration, I noted a young man with a poster of a lady saying “In memory of Mizé.”
Tabanka is a manifestation of the people by the people that occurs mostly in the Island of Santiago, in certain times of the year. It is associated with feast of certain saints. Centuries ago, Tabanka appeared to be a sort of street theater where all of society, including the rulers and the clergy were represented and ridiculed. Despite its prohibition during from to 19th to the mid 20th century, Tabanka persists as a cultural manifestation that connects people to each other and maintains their tradition and history alive.
Well, I wished I had gone to Maio. But, at least, I ran into Tabanka.
Note: Os Pioneiros was a children’s organization controlled by the government. It lasted throughout the period of one-party rule in Cape Verde.
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