African Street Party
August 31, 2015
I had a good weekend of it getting out and about, exploring Impfondo and its surroundings. On Saturday I was taken for a tour of the town by Sarah, a missionary who has been living and working here for 20 years. It shows, because pretty much everyone in the large town knows her name, shouting it affectionately as we trundled past on our bicycles. We headed to the house of a man named Papa Simone to offer our help in building, but he had finished for the day by the time we got there. From there Sarah took me to the port on the Ubangui River where a boat had just pulled in. The boat was made up of two large, pontoon-like barges, maybe 80 foot long. On them, underneath ripped tarpaulins, a small village of passengers and traders had established itself. It was a real-life version of what you might expect to see on a Michael Palin documentary, complete with a bunch of kids swimming in the river, the equatorial sun glinting gold on its mud-coloured ripples. The barges were attached side by side, with a smaller ship or ‘pusher’ at the back, used as the engine boat. Sarah bumped into a man who she met when she first came out here. He was waiting to see if it was possible to take the boat down to Brazzaville, a three week journey down the Congo River, equipped with literally a spare vest and a toothbrush.
That night I was desperate to get to a big, African party. We headed out in search of a death celebration, where a ton of people party all night over the loss of somebody’s life. People here are very outwardly expressive of their emotions, and when someone dies, the whole town knows about it. You can be woken up in the middle of the night by blood-curdling howls of women who have lost loved ones.
The death party had already come to a crescendo and had been broken up by the police who were patrolling around, again with lots of AK47s, so we continued on through the town on the trail of more booming music. Soon we arrived at a huge gathering in the street where a thick circle of people surrounded a live band. People were stood on top of static motorbikes and cars peering into the circle. On top of a dusty truck perched two huge speakers blasting out Franco-African music, making the ground shake with the beat of the drums. People were sporadically jumping into the middle of the circle and moving their bodies in absolute harmony with the music, pulling moves I could only wish to be able to do myself. I don’t quite know how to describe the sheer energy and ambience which filled the air, but I loved it in all its intensity. It was the best experience I have had out here.
Guest Blog By
Rowan Cassels-Brown
New Sight Summer Intern
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