First real night out in Port au Prince, if you don't count the overrun by aid workers, where Djaloki, Coleen and I all felt out of place. This is more like home--Fet Gede/ Halloween/ All Soul's Day for the Haitian politically aware/artist/ musician crowd and a smattering of interested aid workers. I come with Carla, who comes with the band.
The drums make the night--when they are good, you feel them in the pit of your stomach.
An old, respected, grey-haired musician with long dreds under his hat drums as a famous, mysterious graffiti artist in a skeleton costume and mask paints, in moments before our eyes, the scene of a woman's face--half beautiful and half skeleton, a voudou dancer in Gede's purple, and a male drummer with hollowed out eyes and pronounced cheekbones. The drums sound like they are coming from inside us. We all breathe deeply, quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment. Awe.