by Anuka
Every show has a few glitches. Anything put together last-minute practically guarantees problems that have to be brazened out by the performers. But once in a while a show comes along that seems to be governed by Murphy’s Law ...
Two days before the Caribana Festival, a 3.6 kilometer street party in Toronto involving thousands of entertainers, several of Mayada’s friends and students received an email titled "URGENT - NEED 8 DANCERS FOR SHOW SATURDAY MORNING". Gamely, I replied that I was available. We rehearsed that night and learned a 2-minute choreography to Amani’s Saidi.
Saturday morning, feeling overdone in all my glitter and Cleopatra-style eye makeup, I made my way to the bus stop avoiding the eyes of the early-rising little old ladies in my neighbourhood. Upon reaching the streetcar line that ran down to Exhibition Place at Harbourfront where the parade would start, I was passed by six samba dancers in red hot pants, sequined bras and tall feather headdresses being chased by a tiny Asian girl frantically snapping pictures of them. I immediately felt like the Cleopatra eyes fit right into this scene.
Once we all arrived at our meeting place, we proceeded to the grounds. Most of the parade participants showed up in full costume, understandably not wanting to carry any extras throughout their march. At the gate, the security guards eyed our street clothes with suspicion, and interrogated Mayada before allowing us to pass.
This year’s parade was Persian-inspired. Everywhere we looked we saw legions of harem girls. People strapped into wildly colourful, huge costume pieces at least twice as tall as themselves were everywhere. It was as though hundreds of giant exotic dream-creatures were moving through a sea of dancers.
This was definitely distracting me from the fact that we had no idea where we supposed to be, but Mayada was looking more and more stressed. The man who had hired us had only told Mayada the name of his band, and the event officials only knew groups by the numbers they had been assigned. The sheer scale of the whole event made looking for him like looking for a needle in a haystack. After about an hour of running around asking everyone in sight for directions, we decided that we had better change. Behind a trailer.
This was of course the moment we were found by a man claiming to be able to help us. He certainly fixed a costume issue - using a device resembling a staple-gun that secured things with plastic bands, he secured the back of a too-big borrowed top.
After more misdirection and running around, the man told us "You dance here -with the drummers." Drummers? What drummers? We were relieved of our bags and practically shoved forward. I had a split second to decide whether to kick off my sandals and, as we were on asphalt with no stage in sight, kept them on. Others were not so lucky.
We then improvised for about 10 minutes to a percussion section that had magically appeared out of the crowd. It took all of us several of those minutes to realize that the camera people we were smiling at and dancing for were opposite to our actual audience - bleachers full of hundreds of people that we had been too rushed to notice! The band started moving and we followed them, smiling and shimmying all the way, with the horrible feeling that we had just joined the several-hour-long parade ...
We managed to make our escape only to realize we were missing items - one shoe, two veils and a purse. Fortunately, the shoe turned up soon and the purse turned up the next day. I think we’ve given up hope for the veils.
Despite the chaos, the day was fun and I learned a few things about outdoor performances. Wear shoes or sandals that you can dance in and that match your costume (if possible). Don’t bring your purse or wallet - just travelling essentials and as much cash as you are willing to lose. Wear sunscreen. Be ready for anything. And most importantly, keep smiling!