News & Views for Southern Sailors - Southwinds Magazine

Hand-propelled India float at the Junkanoo Festival. Junkanoo is
held on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas), unless it falls on
a Sunday, in which case it’s Monday night (Tuesday morning).
You arrive before midnight and the event starts around 1 a.m.
of our destination in Nassau.
The following day we took slips at the Nassau Harbor
Club Marina to ensure easy access to the boats as
Sampatecho was doing a crew change during Junkanoo. As
always, the manager, Peter, took good care of us.
We were settled for a few days. Echo would be flying
out after Junkanoo, while Peter and Mimi were coming to
see the event and a little of the Exumas.
Nassau and the Junkanoo Festival
Junkanoo is held on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas),
unless it falls on a Sunday in which case it’s Monday night
(Tuesday morning). You arrive before midnight and the
event starts around 1 a.m. Good things can’t be rushed, and
the parade doesn’t necessarily start on time. Find a good
viewing spot in the bleachers or a balcony (for a fee), and
watch the crowd assemble.
What’s Junkanoo The easy answer is it’s why we came
to Nassau in December. The celebration’s origin is believed
to be in the late 1600s or 1700s. The origin of the word
Junkanoo is obscure. Some say it comes from the French l’inconnu
(meaning the unknown), in reference to the masks
worn by the paraders or gens inconnus, which translates to
unknown or masked people, or junk enoo, the Scottish settlers’
reference to the parades, meaning “junk enough”; or
“John Canoe,” the name of an African tribal chief who
demanded the right to celebrate with his people even after
being brought to the West Indies in slavery. Ask someone
on the street and you’ll get yet another variation.
Where the name came from isn’t as important as the fact
that it isn’t Christmas in the Bahamas without Junkanoo
bands rushing in the downtown streets. In the wee hours of
Boxing Day, crowded bleachers of islanders overlook
troupes dancing in costumes of feathers, crepe paper and
reflective materials glued to clothing, cardboard and wood.
The word “costume” is inadequate. Some of the participants
are literally carrying floats with music, lights and
people aboard. Others wear a wheeled float via a harness
built inside the unit. The mechanics aren’t important; the
floats are people-powered and the result is awesome.
Favorites include the “Saxons,” “Valley Boys” and
“Roots.” Their members include youngsters and aged, all
serious about their performance. Competition among them
is fierce (thousands of dollars in prize money are at stake),
and costume designs are a closely-guarded secret until they
are finally unveiled. Teams of judges cast their ballots for
each group and place them in escorted lock boxes that trail
each group. Each troupe selects a theme for its costumes,
and members are dressed in variations of that theme. It
could be something as archaic as Vikings, or as contemporary
as astronauts all tied into the theme of the parade. The
dancers short-step or meringue along the street, depending
on the music their troupe’s band plays with their huge goatskin
drums, cowbells, rattles, brass horns, conch shell horns
and whistles. Revelers on the sidelines join in cheering their
favorite troupe along. Even the term “music” seemed inappropriate;
the sound had a life of its own. As the musicians
passed, we could literally feel their beat vibrate within our
bodies. We stayed until dawn’s twilight, leaving after we’d
become exhausted by a long night of visual and audio sensory
overload. True Junkanoo fans stayed until almost noon.
Next time, I think I’d go there about 4 a.m.
We hopped—no, make that dragged, back to our boats
for much needed sleep; glad we’d made the jump to the
Bahamas for Junkanoo and an interesting whirlwind tour of
the waters surrounding Nassau and New Providence
Island.
Echo flew home as we exited our slips, to head for the
Exumas to show Peter and Mimi a little of the Bahamas.
We’d spend the next couple of days exploring the islands
before they headed home. My mate Ruth flew into Nassau
as they were leaving to make our team whole again. It was
great to have her back aboard. Her return became uncertain
when she arrived in Nassau without a return ticket; customs
wanted to immediately return her to the States unless she
bought a return ticket. Her argument that she didn’t need
one as she was joining our yacht didn’t fly—they wanted a
copy of the yacht’s cruising permit. She couldn’t reach the
marina office as it was past their closing hours, and my
phone wasn’t Bahamas-enabled. She persisted for three
hours and was finally allowed to enter after pleading
through three levels of bureaucracy and promising a T-shirt
with our yacht name on it. Next time, I’ll fax a copy of the
cruising permit to her before she leaves the States. We learn
something new every day!
Our continued Bahamas visit took us south to George
Town, the Ragged Islands and back north along the Exumas.
As often as we’ve done this loop, we continue to find
anchorages we’ve bypassed on prior voyages…but those
are stories for another time.
Barry, Ruth and their Amazon parrot, Buddy, learned sailing on
Wisconsin’s Lake Winnebago and the Great Lakes before embarking
on a one-year trip along America’s Great Loop. That changed
their lifestyle to full-time cruising. Their journeys have taken
them from Nova Scotia to the southern Bahamas.
The author has messed around boats for 60 years. Nautical
careers included a boat repair business, design and production
management of small fiberglass boats, project manager for a custom
vacuum bagged racer-cruiser, marine canvas and marine
surveying—talk about an attention span deficit. Currently he
writes how-to and cruising articles—and, of course, he sails.
News & Views for Southern Sailors SOUTHWINDS November 2011 47