Scrolling events on the Galaxy Saturday morning I came across the Alkaline Festival IV only 20minutes from W-S, NC and on the way to my home golf course, Pudding Ridge. The party would feature music, comedy, art, food, healing, meditation, yoga, and camping, all things I truly enjoy; so I figured it would be a mistake not to go to something so close.
Glancing through past pictures and promotions of the festival I didn’t see any white people so I texted Tiffany, my yoga teacher, “is this just for the black community?” Her response was I’m teaching Sunday service at 10am and I think you should be welcome, I know the promoter, Terrence; name drop. So I packed the AT gear in the Cuban fibered Z-pack for an overnighter with chance of thunderstorms.
Passing the only café in miles and making a right I came to Brady Bunch Blvd with 5x3ft plywood against a white fence with an arrow and Alkaline Festival in blue to pull down the one-way gravel. 500 yards further I approached check-in and was informed to park and follow the road for camping. Strapping on the Z-pack I put one foot in-front of the other as a woman and man passed greeting me with ‘peace’ while Souls of Mischief reaffirmed, I was in the right place.
Around the bend was a garden 3x’s the size of mine with full grown watermelon amongst the medley of onions, tomatoes, and sunflowers. Ten different flags were displayed swaying, even the Stars and Bars as I passed the garden embarking on food vendors. A sign to my left indicated camping as well as the cramped tents in unfriendly terrain. I wondered why everyone was so close but I found a nice nook past the makeshift showers with cover from what I knew what was coming from the clouds later.
The property dipped down from the road and the heat index was blazing as I walked through the party in early afternoon to inquire if I could start my own fire. Next to the kitchen I met an older fella in a Kango hat that the other’s referred to as ‘Chief’, and he pointed me the direction of Terrence by the food trucks. He was tall, slender, with dreads, as I locked his eyes 20ft out and proceeded to introduce myself.
“Hey you Terrence?” “Tiffany told me to say hi, that you’re the promoter of the festival.”
“Yea, she’s supposed to come tomorrow,” he said.
I asked for his help finding a studio to freestyle in since I saw he had some videos but it wasn’t received since he said he doesn’t pay for time but collaboration. I asked about the water and told me they have their own natural spring, “blacked owned, black… etc.” He gave me a quick 4-line freestyle and said peace and love to me. In my head I heard 40 acres and a mule by our hand but hey enjoy brother. After walking through the vendors and stage it was crystal clear, I was only white person there.
To be honest it never really bothered me. I didn’t have any anxiety about it, I mean I was so close to home and half of the people were my neighbors. So I ate some mushrooms, I mean they were prominent there and embarked on journey that found me as the ‘white’, black sheep.
My next encounter brought to me a female artist from SC but relocating to Raleigh with quite a library of work. When I asked about promoting her pieces to others she responded, “I do it for me.” Which I loved! She painted to the music later in true form but the heat was to intense and I to retreat to the shade for relief; and with a promise of a return with a gift. (later I dropped my new book and 2 prints)
Sitting in front of the orange Marmot 2P tent I grounded and meditated for the whole comedian’s set. Towards the end of a blissful place where time didn’t exist, I heard, “I saw a white man here… I think he left. What else can I talk about.” I felt like Family Feud, survey says, ha. But the real joke came at the end of meditation; sister Henderson is going be labeled the one down with the white nationalist cop! I couldn’t stop laughing. Having the stage name of the Gay, Ginger, Detective, (double GD) it was at top-mind awareness that the others assumed I was a narc; wasn’t the first time and will not be the not the last.
It was around 4 o’clock and I needed some of that spring water, so I trekked to the opposite end by the kitchen and bought some infused anti, anti, everything for $8 as an older woman stirred a pot on the front porch. The woman I was talking to went over the menu of fine dining vegan-based products from the kitchen, (the lasagna was a hit) and told the young man I was paying. He glanced up momentarily to point at the square to tap the card but I had cash. He wasn’t gone long but the women felt the opposite. The young man returned with my change and said, “sorry sir for the hold-up.” “No big deal,” I was catching shade I said and bogged some ice for the hat, all good.
I found a spot of brush and trunks big enough to sit 75 yards from the stage next to what was a healing tent. The juice reminded of Fruit by the Foot, grape, with an astounding aftertaste as Terrence’s little brother, Kiiba, started off the music and ended by bringing the collective together as they sang his hit, ‘catch 22’, I believe. He is a performer, the crowd responded when he asked for their participation. And it wasn’t put your hands in the air bullshit.
He did 4 songs it was during his performance a woman with a white tank top, black pants, slender, and in shape approached me bending down, “sir, are you having a good time?” I stood up and put my hand but she said, “I’m a hugger” and we embraced after a name exchange. Her and the man she was with looked with wonderment but with kindness, it was welcoming.
The beads slapped the backs of recipients in the tent next to me during healing ceremony but one bee on me turned to at least eight without fear. I welcomed the first as I could tell he was gathering from my arm hair and meant no harm. We played as he followed my finger in circles to land again. The vibration went out and they were on my arms and legs. But again I never felt bothered by them, they meant no harm. I read into it, Killa Bee is here, ha.
The next act was a female who resembled Tash Sultana in all black with a backwards baseball cap. Her stage name was the Divine Hippie and she brought a slap in the face! It was like being at an underground rock show in Cleveland with a grit of humanity blessed by the spirits. Her lyrics mirrored some of my own. It was only one song but it reigned through my ears like, ‘you hear me now, you know where your at?” She spoke to an old man in-front of me and we locked eyes passing, a bush blocked sight and she reappeared; I gave her a thumbs up and mouthed, ‘you were good.’
The woman from Maryland who stood out with her hot pink pants, and with splashes of other bright colors on her blouse looked to be shagging with Austin Powers gave some melody for a new era of Motown. She had a backup singer, (always have backup singers) but her voice pierced anyone’s heart to cause goosebumps and a shake of the tailfeather in range. It was only two songs and I thought fuck, play that again! “I’m a tough cookie to crack,” is all I can remember but I know how I felt, more please.
Watching the angels bless the festival through the clouds enjoying her frequency I hit my bowl, probably the only one I saw, ha. A moment after the security guard in all black was fairly close to me, not that I was concerned about pot but when he got closer déjà vu registered. He looked tough not muscular but stout in his getup, but it was his faded Jordan’s that struck me! I had seen them before. And a sense of knowing with certainty followed, and then again. A white woman appeared dancing by the stage in a Charlotte Hornets jersey, again I had seen it. It was becoming clearer I had been here before.
One thing that was different than the other festivals I’ve attended was alcohol was not dominant. There were no kegs or littered beer cans. It felt like I was the only one drinking even though Barbara, a local vendor, was serving her homemade concoctions of infused fruit drinks. Loading her car up I caught her for a Hennessy on rocks and we made small talk. She was friendly, I’d say a sweetheart in our brief encounter. The Chief joined our conversation as she loaded the van in preparation for fulfilling tomorrow’s orders. They realized how close they were when they each inquired about cousins and such, kin folk. I was ignored when I mentioned this astonishment and they broke off, “bye Stu” Barabara said as she jumped in the van not forgetting me.
I went and adjourned to my same spot to sip the Henny and hear Terrance freestyle, pretty good until the storm was too much to handle. I seeped in the brush and low trees as the cricket chirped at my back but the fire from the God’s was ‘Into the Blue’ and I was drenched through and through. Walking around the vendors through the down poor in my dry fit I found refuge at the tent 20ft from the stage. A light skinned, curly hair, woman named Shawna said, “you are wet. I saw you before, do you have a booth here?”
At this point the hair was down and maybe I was no longer the detective and the hits kept coming. It would’ve matter what I said her response was ‘I’m so interested tell me more.’ She was from Greensboro and informed me there was more camping in the woods past the above ground pool. It’s hilarious because a girlfriend of mine said, “maybe you’ll find your future wife.” And straight-up I had no thoughts of women that day. But when you’re the only sheep you stand out. I heard the same phrase of, ‘I saw you’ more than once. Maybe they knew I had dated a black woman before, who knows.
I told her it was a pleasure and it was but I wanted to walk. My lighter lit a smoke after I almost lost my shit on the plywood and I was welcomed to a real festival. The spaces and trail through North Carlonia was woven. The tents were spaced and I knew this was where the inner circle was located. I walked to the end of the road to meet a couple under a tarp on the cul-de-sac. The man had cut and cleared the brush resting his tired body as his girl was all about projects. Although ironically, I understood she voiced her concerns and he quietly thought of clearing more land as it came off his lips subtlety.
“Man, this is high society. I’m in government housing by the showers,” I said. “Hold-up I’m going to use your bathroom suburbs,” I declared. “Make sure you put the seat down,” he joked as I found my tree for stabilization. He fell asleep as I spoke with his lady and retreated back to the tent.
The rain continued to be overwhelming in a soaked tent at 9 o’clock but some synchronicities hit when I thought, ‘I want to hear Ordinary World’ and it came right on! My lighter had died at this point but the rain let up for last walk before I thought of abandoning the spot. I saw that the bonfire 10×10 was being coaxed by Shamin and the girl I referred to as little Raydan for her eastern hat and I joined them. But I was soon left alone. There wasn’t a lot of engagement but that was coming.
Talking with a woman to my left her man appeared and what I had said had him say, “excuse me baby let me talk to him,” and they traded places. His name was Mal from Greensboro, he was skinny, with a button down, bling, hat, and a confidence that couldn’t be ignored. He said, “when you see me, see yourself.” I gave him a hug immediately, “that’s the premise of my new book.” “Well there’s a reason you’re here,” Mal reminded me thankfully.
He coached a young man, Khalil, to my right from California who’s energy needed a pick me up. “You can tell he’s dying to get out,” I said to Mal who agreed. There was a lot of openness from young men I didn’t expect. Shamin was to my right and another young man had come for life lessons and confession but they did not know each other. The vulnerability and humility on display was impressive, I mean to have that faith that another will help you without knowing you is truly a treasure of the Alkaline Festival.
A young lady that looked like the Fresh Princess’s girlfriend, Lisa, named Besty was selling smores with kabob sticks for $7. Mal bought some for his lady and I got to know her and her sister Jessica; who I hit it off with immediately. She was definitely me, we can smell our own. Her voice was strong but with a soft demeanor of pleasantry. We had some laughs and insights.
But it was Besty that invited me into the fire circle dance, “C’mon Stu” she said welcoming. “I’ll get you next go around.” I stood up and got Jessica to come with me and maybe 15 of us danced and sang around the fire. Shamin expressed something about raising vibrations of races and encouraged me to participate. I responded, “handle me with care” the title of the track that was playing but it wasn’t long before I started channeling some flows.
It was apparent again to me, I wasn’t edgy to flow. Maybe a year ago I would’ve been dying to get up on stage and as on Rick and Morty, ‘show me what you got’ but I was ok. I no longer need validation because I’m confident in me, I mean us. But nobody was really singing and I thought is it because of me but then Shamin hit some Egyptians raise the dead shit and I couldn’t help but transcend the star-seed to the surface dwellers.
It was cut-off when someone bumped into me because my eyes were closed when I transcribe. It was the Shamin’s lady I believe, she reminded of the Pilgrim’s woman on ‘Into the Badlands.” “Excuse me,” she said as dance ensued and I sat on the grass. But before this the girls had flowed to a what was ‘Friend’ by Biz Markie type of track, truly beautiful, the 3 of them. One awesome thing about the Alkaline festival was the presence of strong female energy. It has been absent in my life so long it was welcoming to be in its vicinity. At the cul-de-sac the chick agreed, “the ladies killed it on stage.”
By 12:30 I retreated to my tent soaked and uncomfortable. I changed clothes and tossed and turned until sunup awaiting Tiffany’s arrival. I sat around the fire adding some dry tinder and logs from the trunk as the others ate oatmeal and pancakes. My stomach needed relief and if I ate, I wasn’t going to do yoga.
But a funny thing transpired in the morning. ‘Chief walked past me and said, “Good morning” cheerfully. I told him how good he smelled from a muddy camper and he laughed. Terrence said, “you have a good time” sincerely and smiled. I made it through the night and I think gained some respect. But I still laughed at Tiffany’s association with me many times throughout Saturday.
I made it to 10am but I didn’t see sister Henderson and made my way to the car for departure. I said goodbye to Jessica by her mud-stained car and thanked her as we let off one last smile with feeling. Stuck in the mud myself I saw a red SUV pass me, it was Tiffany I later learned. But getting out of the mud in under 5mins., soaked, and needing a bathroom I bounced.
She informed me later via text I was invited back next year, they got a quota now, ha! Race definitely helped bring like minded people together from Minnesota to Florida. “Half the people are local and half are out of town,” said Terrence at the early morning campfire. But the vision of a utopia to form community is strong on Brady Bunch Blvd. I didn’t see any egos but people being strong where others are weak leveraging one another to build bonds. Participating with gifts bestowed upon them. “I don’t want to do all that paperwork,” Terrence pronounced. I said, “I get it. You’re creating.”
One simple take away from Alkaline Fest as Terrence affirmed on the mic, “If the Sun don’t Shine” with a crowd response, “I will!” We can all be the light in the darkness if we remember the darkness craves light. Balance comes with acceptance before understanding. So let it rain until my acidity is Alkaline.
Smile Big
Shine Bright
With
Love and Light
Patent pending, ha.
