The Traveling Pan-African Carnival! [D11]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

A y e n a

*

"How are you all doing this glorious morning?!” Ayena’s voice bellowed out through the microphone and echoed across the college grounds. She grinned at the sea of black and brown faces that looked back at her. Dressed sleek and sharp in her favorite black dress and heels, she'd gotten up before sunrise to put herself together and ready to address the people of eleven.

A warm February sun betrayed the chill of the afternoon. Clear skies augured good spirits, and Ayena Taft was determined to draw them into the carnival.

Nostalgia had crept through her bones time and again, aching through her joints until she obliged a memory or two. Ayena held more decades than nearly anyone in district eleven. It was half the reason she suspected that the Izar boy (excuse her the mayor – she had seen the boy in diapers, so he’d always been young to her) had asked her to be the emcee at the festival, somehow convincing organizers she was more worthy than the traveling capitolites festooned in their finery. (That and she was the owner of Iris Gate College whose many acres were perfect for a carnival ground.)

“I want to acknowledge the land that you’re standing on today. That while today this is Iris Gate College and yesterday the Taft family farms, before that, it belonged to people who aren’t with us.”

History in Panem was more than complicated – it was a veritable battlefield of truths torn apart and repackaged by colonizing oppressors who’d attempted to strip each of them of everything they’d ever known.

“As someone who’s seen many years in this district, and as Dean of this College, I was asked to introduce our esteemed guests. I am so happy that we come together today to celebrate with the traveling Pan-African Carnival.”

She had not accepted his request at first, demurring that she would have to think about it in good time. He’d left her office with the same smile he’d come with, and invited her to dinner the next weekend, an invitation she’d send regrets to, but appreciated all the same.

Ayena could still remember the few years before the war. Before the barbed wire and turrets lining the district. When people could move freely, when they had not been resettled into the hard work that fed the better part of the country. When men and women had been free – a word that had twisted its meaning so much that it had fractured to pieces – so that Ayena could not fathom if her students truly knew what it meant.

She spent the better part of an evening in the library tearing through books from before the dark days. All sorts of collected contraband that didn’t sanitize, let alone erase the past. They were the same she’d used to teach history in salons she’d run forty years prior, and now, to pass on to this generation. She should’ve been tired.

One of her students had once asked why she hadn’t chosen to retire, and she’d remarked that giving knowledge about what had been and what could be were all that she had. As nice as it would’ve been to have sat on the porch swing in the afternoon or dodder to the market in town.

“We’ve been given a gift. Black history deserves a celebration,” Her voice rose as she hit the last word, beaming. “Take the time to join the parade and those that have come so far. Spend an afternoon in the carnival to listen to the music.”

Today was one where they could share and rejoice. Parts of something that had never been lost, but not brought into focus.

“And stroll the halls, you’ll find some of our friends and fellow districters have put together displays. I encourage you to see all the wonderful things we've put together.”

---

OOC Reminders:

Local entertainers are encouraged to join in the opening parade with their own floats or walking performances, and are welcomed to set up their own booths or stalls in the main district square alongside the other carnival setups. So be creative! If you have a local way to celebrate black heritage, they want you to show it.

Beads are determined by a dice roll [*roll range="1-10"] in your first post, and all posts after earn you +2 beads.

Please keep track of your beads here!

This event will run until February 28th.

elegant

[✨ zozo.]

↳ CLOUD BROOKS

I'll admit, it was a bit of a surreal moment when a tall woman came up to me as I was packing up from the local Sunday markets and asked bluntly: "You the goat girl?"

I had two goats tied to a rope lead in my hand, nodding dumbly in response.

"You're hired."

I'd stood there in disbelief, cheeses half-wrapped and bottles of milk only half packed back away into my wooden trolley, for a good ten seconds before I blinked and called back with a frown: "What for?"

"You'll see!" she'd responded, dismissing me with a wave of her hand as she gracefully slid back into the crowds.

Turns out I'd been hired to work the carnival. I could do with some extra cash, but what I realised I'd be paid in once I got here with my trolleys filled of goat milk was not money but knowledge.

And boy, I'd rather be paid with new recipes than coins any day of the week.

The woman - whose name I'd come to learn only in passing was Iris - set me to work the moment I'd arrived at the carnival on set-up day. She told me the instructions to her recipes only once, not bothering to ask my name. Only after my arms ached from heating, stirring, straining and drying the goats milk to create a cheese curd Iris called Ayib did she dip a teaspoon in to taste and ask for my name.

"Cloud," I'd responded. "But you can call me Goat Girl. I don't mind."

Iris had simply raised her eyebrows and placed her spoon down. "Not bad. Could do with some onion juice though."

And so I got to work on my second, third, fourth batch until Iris smiled. "Good," she mused as the day ticked into afternoon, teasing the hint of an evening sky. "For a cloud."

I just grinned back.

"What recipe's next?"

ooc; cloud is working at iris' stall selling traditional african cheese dishes, helping to cook in the back!
feel free to interact or just mention it in passing owa owa.

rollin for some beads
ugdQ3kDfPh1-10

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