Dressed in black shorts and a green, red, and yellow (colors commonly associated with the Caribbean) t-shirt, that had on it Dominica’s flag next to a picture of beach scene (a coconut tree on a mound of sand under the sun), I was ready for my first Atlanta Carnival experience. When Nevis and I drove into the downtown area, near West Peachtree Street, where the carnival was supposed to take place, we didn’t see any signs that indicated a Caribbean carnival was occurring there: no music, no masqueraders, no signs/banners, no crowds of people seemingly walking towards or away from a common destination, and no extra police officers on the street. Nothing. In New York, as soon as you get within a few blocks from Eastern Parkway, where the New York Carnival takes place, you are inundated with images, sounds, and smells indicating that you are at or approaching the carnival. The sounds of soca, calypso, kompa, and various other Caribbean musics fill the streets, traveling from the large speakers tied tightly to each band’s truck as they slowly roll down the parkway. The smell of Caribbean dishes, such as curry goat, jerk chicken, and oxtail, from the many food stands waft through the air, enticing those walking by to stop and eat.
But, we didn’t encounter these things as we approached the carnival area. As we drove around downtown Atlanta looking for cheap parking, it looked a bit deserted. There were several cars in each parking lot we passed, but there were few people on the street---early signs that this carnival was going to be very different from what I was used to. After 10 minutes of driving around, we found $5 all day parking several blocks away from the carnival village, which was at the intersection of Jesse Hill Jr Drive and Auburn Avenue. We waited there for another 10 minutes for Nevis’ friend Janelle. Soon after she arrived, we made our way towards the carnival village. As we got closer to Auburn Avenue, I slowly spotted small groups of people—men, women, and children---walking in the same direction as us. Looking more closely at the people, I saw that some were holding Caribbean flags or wearing apparel with a Caribbean country’s name or flag on it. When we were a block away from Auburn Avenue, I finally saw the first major sign that an event was happening there: police officers and barricades. We walked around the barricades. After a few steps I finally saw vendor stands and a crowd of people. The music began to fill the air. My heart started to race because I was finally going to experience Atlanta Carnival.
At the intersection of Jesse Hill Jr. Drive and Auburn Avenue, there were metal barricades and table with three seated people at it, collecting the $10 entrance fee for the carnival village. Facing the cashier table, there was a long line of people waiting to pay and enter the carnival village. We walked along the intersection and joined the end of the line. As we waited, Nevis’ friend Nisha joined us in the line, and after 10 minutes, we reached the front of the line. Janelle and Nisha paid and entered the carnival village. I approached the cashier table and the hiccup that always seems to happen when I enter a line happened—they ran out of change, as I am about to give them my $20 dollar bill. I couldn’t believe it. How can you run an event where you collect money and not carry enough cash to give change, especially when the fee is $10 and most ATMs only give out $20 dollar bills? To avoid standing in line any longer, while they scrambled to find change, I paid them $20 so that Nevis and I could enter.
On each side of Auburn Avenue, a two-lane cobblestone street, there were small crowds of people standing around vendor stands, selling cds, dvds, clothing, and crafts. After several feet, the vendor stands turned into food stands, which were located under a highway underpass. We walked past the stands towards the other side of the carnival village. As we passed the food stands, the smell of different island foods filled the air. Many of the stands offered similar Caribbean dishes, such as curry chicken, curry goat, oxtail, patties, and jerk chicken. A few offered fruit smoothies, Caribbean icies (snow cones), and curry crab legs (so yummy!!). One stand was selling funnel cake (or fried dough, for my New Englanders), which is not a Caribbean dish but is common at outdoor events, such as street fairs or amusement parks. Although my stomach was rumbling, I decided to wait until I saw the entire carnival village before I ate.
On the other side of the underpass, there was a stage in the middle of a circular area. Scattered around the stage, there was a few more food stands and a large crowd of people. A band was performing on the stage and people, young and old, were swaying to the sounds and waving flags from various Caribbean islands, including my beloved nature island, Dominica. Although the carnival was smaller, from the crowd to the space, than I was used to, I was happy to see Caribbean culture represented in Atlanta. An ethnic festival or parade is major signifier of a group’s presence in a locality.
To put together an ethnic parade or festival, you need sponsors, city permits, and a significant number of attendees to justify the event. Locations of Caribbean carnivals, outside of the Caribbean, map out the growing Afro-Caribbean Diaspora: New York (the largest), Miami, London, Toronto, Boston, Washington, D.C., San Francisco, Atlanta, to name a few. The fact that Atlanta’s carnival is over 20 years old is very telling about its history with Caribbean migrants. It means that there has been a significant concentration of Afro-Caribbeans in Atlanta since the late 1980s. I had never heard of Atlanta Carnival until I started doing preliminary research for my project in 2009. However, unbeknownst to me, my father (Mr. Carnival), who has traveled to various Caribbean carnivals from Canada to the Caribbean, knew about Atlanta Carnival for several years but had never attended.
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