Calabash

Every May, for the past seven years, I have made my way to the south coast of Jamaica with one of my three children (they are on a rotation schedule) to join my two dear friends, Justine Henzell and Colin Channer in running the largest literary festival in the Caribbean and what many are wisely realizing is one of the coolest literary festivals in the world: the Calabash International Literary Festival. In two days time I will head down to Jamaica again--the seventh year, and the roster is exciting (www.calabashfestival.org) this year and already the excitement is starting to spill across the Caribbean Sea. Here is a taste: Terrance Hayes, Michael Ondaatje, Mike Farrell, Patricia Smith, Elizabeth Alexander, Maryse Conde, Gabeba Baderon, Caryl Phillips, Kendel Hippolyte, Linda Susan Jackson, David Adams Richards and so, so, many more.

Calabash happened because two men in their late thirties riding on a train in England, started to share with a great deal of insane laughter and ribbing, some of our worst literary festival experiences. The time the person introducing one of us forgot our name, or the time the hotel we were sent to said that there was no record that the festival would be paying for our rooms, the countless times when our books were never at the event, the time when the sound system was impossibly unhelpful and there was no one to fix it, the times we were reminded again and again that the big-name authors were treated as people while we were treated as after thoughts, the times when the communication with us before the festival and during the festival was virtually nil, the times we read last and the first six readers had eaten up all the time so that the moderator had to ask us to speak for a minute if possible, the times when our names were somehow left off all publicity about the event, the times we spoke in front of one or two or three people including the custodian, and on and on and on. Our war stories were outrageously funny sometimes, but most of the time they left us with the sense that even some of the more prestigious festivals suffer from two basic weaknesses: they fail to consider what a writer finds most important about doing a reading or an appearance, and what an audience finds most helpful at a festival.
So we said, "You know, someone should really plan a killer festival that makes sure one of these things happen." We agreed. We were willing to consult with "someone" on this, and what we meant was someone who was a senior artist, someone who had been in the writing business for a while, someone who had a real interest in supporting writers and making things happen.
There was an epiphany on that train. We realized, suddenly, that our days of waiting for someone to do something were over. We realized that some twenty year old somewhere was saying someone should do this or that, and they were talking about us We realized that it was now our generation that were responsible for working to advance the future of writing from the Caribbean in general and from Jamaica, in particular. We were the ones who would have to make it happen and we knew we could do this because, quite simply, we already knew what to do.
Calabash grew out of the conversation. It grew out of friendship. It grew out of a genuine passion for our country. It grew out of our sense of adventure. When Justine Henzell joined the team, we were ready to make this thing happen and it has happened. In many ways, I have sifted modes and have accepted my role as the person who will come with an idea, and not just wait for it to be done, but who will work to make it happen.
I am looking forward to Calabash this year. It is a time to hear great writers, to eat good steamed fish, to listen to wonderful reggae music, to hang out with old friends and meet new friends, to be reminded of how beautiful it can be when three thousand people sit before you just to listen to a writer read from his or her work--three thousand people in an island that people often think of only in terms of tourism and poverty. I will relish the startling sunsets forming a backdrop to the writers on stage, and I will be running around with the rest of the volunteer team making sure that the writers are happy, the sound system is working, the names of the authors are not forgotten, the writers are lined up to read, the cell phones are off, the vibe is right and the festival is jumping. At the heart of this festival is the unavoidable and contagious presence of Colin Channer, already hoarse-voiced after just one night, constantly grinning, constantly talking, constantly ensuring the chairs remain in some kind of order, and constantly making quick decisions about even the most minute details. And sprinting from spot to spot, holding the whole festival together is Justine Henzell, producer par-excellence. This is the team, but this is not the whole team--so many others work to make this festival happen. Perhaps this is why I believe in readings--it is because I have seen beautiful readings and seen how readings can enliven people from all walks of life. It is hard to be cynical in the face of such beauty. And, anyway, Patricia Smith will be in the house!