Tropical Temptations: The Maroon Isle

e sky, casting a golden light across the Maroon Isle, as Makeda and Corey made their way to the heart of the village. Corey, ever th

ul drumming and dancing to honor the ancestors. The drums are our heartbeat, our voice. They carried messages when words could

how it had been used not only as music but as a language of resistance, a tool for communication during the struggle for freedom.

into a vibrant tapestry of color and movement. Large, hand-carved drums were placed in a circle at the center, each one with intricate designs that told stories of battles fought an

, moved in perfect synchronization. Each step, each sway of the hips, seemed to speak a language of its own one of resilience, of defi

rumming and dancing you see here are in honor of the ancestors, those who fought for freedom. We use the drums to awake

as if her body wanted to join in. The beat was powerful, primal, echoing deep into the night sky. It was easy to und

traditions of the Maroons, the Caribbean, and African culture. Today was about beginnings, about calling forth the ance

its peak. The circle of dancers widened, inviting the villagers and guests alike to join in. Without a second thought, Makeda found herself pulled into

sacred and spontaneous. Around her, Makeda saw children dancing with their grandparents, elders nodding in approval, their eyes reflecting the flames of

through everyone present, connecting them to the earth beneath their feet and to each other. Corey, ever the gentle guide, led her to a nearby table laden with food,

across the square, now illuminated by the flickering firelight and the satis

of the festival has its own meaning, its own story to tell. Tomorrow, we celebrate The Sacred Fire a day of purification. I

ney, a week long exploration of history, culture, and spirit. And as she stood there, surrounded by the warmth of the fire, t

quieted, Makeda felt the island's heartbeat within her, as if the Maroon Isle itself had welcomed

ee what the rest of th