So, I actually went to one of those traditional African music festivals a while back. People talk about them, you see pictures, but going is something else entirely. Wasn’t sure what to expect, honestly. Just felt like I needed to shake things up a bit, get out of my usual routine.
Getting there was simple enough, just followed the signs and the growing stream of cars. The real moment was stepping out of the car. You could feel the bass before you could really hear the music clearly. It wasn’t just sound; it was like a vibration in the air, in the ground. Pretty cool start.
Walked through the entrance, paid my fee, and just stood there for a minute, taking it all in. Lots of colors, people milling around, different smells – food cooking somewhere, maybe some incense, just… life. The main stage was off in the distance, music pumping, but there were smaller pockets of activity everywhere. Drummers under a tree here, dancers over there.
My first move? Just wander. Didn’t have a plan. That seemed like the best way. I let my ears guide me. Found myself drawn to this group playing instruments I didn’t even recognize. Not like guitars or keyboards. These were intricate things, wood and strings and skins, making incredible sounds. Didn’t understand the words they were singing, but you got the feeling, the emotion. Sat on the grass nearby and just listened for a good while.
Felt a bit peckish after a bit, so I checked out the food stalls. Lots of choices. Pointed at something that looked interesting – some kind of stew with plantains. Grabbed a plate, found another spot near some craft vendors. Ended up chatting with a woman selling these amazing woven baskets. She told me a bit about where she was from, how they were made. Wasn’t a sales pitch, just conversation. That happened a lot. People were just… open.
Later on, I drifted towards the main stage area. The energy there was cranked up. Big band, lots of performers, everyone dancing. At first, I just watched from the edge. Felt a bit awkward, you know? But the rhythm is infectious. Seriously. Found my feet tapping. Then my shoulders started moving. Next thing I knew, I was sort of shuffling along with everyone else. Wasn’t thinking about looking silly, just moving to the beat. Lots of smiles, people dancing together who clearly didn’t know each other.
- Listened to drumming that shook my chest.
- Saw incredible dancers in vibrant outfits.
- Tried some spicy ginger drink that woke me right up.
- Just soaked in the atmosphere, really.
The key thing, for me anyway, wasn’t trying to understand everything or see every single performance. It was about just being there. Letting go of schedules or expectations. Sometimes I sat, sometimes I walked, sometimes I danced (badly, probably). Talked to folks when it felt natural, stayed quiet when I wanted to just absorb the sounds.
By the time evening rolled around, I was tired, yeah, but in a good way. The music was still going strong, lights came on, but I felt like I’d gotten what I came for. Driving home, that rhythm was still kind of echoing in my head. It wasn’t just about the music itself, but the whole experience – the people, the vibe, the feeling of being part of something communal and ancient and alive all at once. That’s how I enjoyed it. Didn’t force it, just showed up and let it happen.
