The Girl with the Mystery Moves

bee and beenie. mystery moves pay off ;)

the girl with the wine.

I may be full of myself. I admit it. But really…everyone wants to know who the girl with the mystery wine is. Yeah, my skin is chocolate like my African ancestry. Yeah, my backside is curvy, like my Sierra Leonean mother. Yeah, I wrap my head like my Madingo Muslim grandmother. Yeah, I stomp as my hips sway side to side like my pretty American princesses. But the wine…the wine…we have yet to place it.

even if i show them my lips, they might still question  my hips...movement unidentified.

To me, I dance like the Atlantic ocean that touches my west African roots, I rotate my hips like the Caribbean sea that surrounds the patois speaking islands, I shake my tumba like the afrobeat in my Sierra Leonean songs. This mixture, this touch, this thing has caused people some confusion here in Panama. They want to know where I’m from. They thought maybe if they stare they might place me. Not. They thought if they heard me speak, they might surmise. Then they saw me dance…and still, they couldn’t. They would never know that I am an American girl, who identifies as Sierra Leonean, who loves reggae, who dreams of dancing in the Congo with my favorite Soukous group, who transforms stares into energy and motivation to give a performance. They would never know that in my head, I am on a stage. On my own stage. Each and every time. They would never know just from looking at me. I would have to tell them.

what they were fighting for. closeness. 

And so on this particular day. They didn’t ask, just yet. They pushed me, taunted me, pulled me, spilled beer over me, called me puta and all. But I didn’t shake. I didn’t move. I simply gave them the space to do all the rudeness they wished since they were determined to make me so uncomfortable that I would move. Little did they know, I was determined to stay in the space that they had once occupied. Hey, as the saying goes, you move your feet, you lose your seat. Lol, well it was standing, but you get my point! And listen here, we all paid however much to get in that VIP Section and if I find an opportunity to get right smack in the middle and in the front, best believe that I will take that opportunity. And that’s exactly what I did. They just weren’t happy with it. They sent their best and rudest to challenge me. She started dancing on me. Wining on me from her back to my side. All in an effort to push me out of my spot or to get me pissed off so I would start something so that the whole crew could jump me. Little did they know, I would not be moved. Enty mi nah salone titi, ah don use for dance pan people dem, so we all go dance. I was chill. I gave a little something but not too much. She kept going and I kept going. They didn’t realize they had met their match. But then the dancing/challenging girl, had a light bulb moment. She must have recognized that mystery wine.

Suddenly, she stopped backing it up on me rudely and stared at me intensely before asking, “I have seen you before right,” in her Caribbean twang. I responded that I wasn’t sure. Then she proceeded to explain where she knew me from. She said, “weren’t you dancing at the Konshens concert, you had a green short pants on, I know you!” I replied yes, smiled coyly, (yes, I’m a little shy when I get recognized for these things). Then she high fived me and said she always wanted to know where I was from. Her crew stared intensely and waited for my response. “You from Jamaica,” she asked. The crew anxiously awaited my response…and then I silenced their curiosity. I was born in Washington DC, to Sierra Leonean parents. I’m an African girl, I said. Shoulders relaxed. Heads nodded. Everyone commenced to dancing again. This time together. The crew was from Bocas del Toro, Panama. All black like their Caribbean grandparents and African descendants. I was no longer the enemy. I wasn’t the mysterious wining girl that had taken their spot. I was just like them. Black, lover of reggae music, African. Same hips, same motions, same passion, same blood.

Sun, Sizzla, and Sand

up close and personal

So this past weekend Panama celebrated its independence from Colombia. I specify that because apparently they celebrate a few more independences this month. Basically, November in Panama is one big...beach party! Who am I to complain?

Not to mention it only cost $3.00 to get to the beaches on the Pacific side, which is where I spent my weekend. Something about knowing that I can see so much for so little is empowering. I get excited about the thought.

By now many of you have seen my picture with the phenomenal reggae artist that is Sizzla! Before I even knew when Panama's holiday was, I knew I would be at the concert. Even had my outfit planned. And of course I didn't get my ticket until two days before, haha. Typical.

Anyway, at the last minute I was convinced to head to the beach on Friday night instead of early Saturday morning as I had planned, in order to beat the traffic. Usually, I like to think things out a bit more, but I said whatever; this is all about adventure and experience, right? I was already packed so I did a quick mental checklist and went outside to catch a taxi to the bus terminal. There was only one problem and one problem only; I left after 9 and the last bus was leaving to Gorgona at 9:30. But like the 'blessing pikin' that I am, I made it (despite the taxi driver driving intentionally slow after I indicated that I was in a rush.) Either he was scared of going above the speed limit or he wanted to prolong our ride together. Either way I was annoyed.

from my 'bus'

I rushed to the bus---well, little minivan type of thing. It’s what we call ‘podahpodah’ in Sierra Leone, a ‘minibus’ in Guyana, or a ‘trhttp://trotrodiaries.tumblr.com/otro’ in Ghana. I was extremely close to this one guy who was adamant about sharing his 44th birthday plans with me. He told me about everything from his family to his birthday outfit. 

I finally arrived to the the town of Gorgona and you could feel the calm before the storm; it was clear that the next day would be a day of partying!

sunny days

hidin' out under the cliff catching waves

Saturday came quickly and I checked into a little house owned by a surfer guy in a beach town called El Palmar. This particular beach is frequented by many surfers because of the waves. There is also a surf school. I enjoyed the waves and all, but I'll leave the surfing to the surfers :) I will admit that it felt good to have the waves take you with them.

hey there

beautiful rock structure

I enjoyed the beach a bit more with my homegirl, who is actually learning to surf. Then we got ready and headed out to make an impression---I mean to go to the Sizzla Concert. Yay for Sand and Sizzla. How much better does it get?

Oh wait, it gets better!

I managed to make my way into the VIP section, which basically meant I was free to go riiiiight up close to the front. I figured why shouldn't I be as close as possible to the stage? I will only see Sizzla in Panama once, right? 

Okay, the VIP scheme wasn't that easy. I paid $40 for my ticket which was general admission, but my friends paid $40 on the day of and they got a VIP ticket. I would have been okay with this if there wasnt such a bigggg difference. Like general admission was like being on the back of the bus and not by choice. And I definitely did not come all the way to Panama to be in the back. No, no, no. Not Bintu Mary.

Needless to say, I put on my DMV charm, walked up to the security guy and asked him what the price difference was so I could pay it. He directed me to the ticket booth. I asked them the same question. They told me to hold on. Luckily my friend Javi had a better idea. He would just hold my hand and cover it with his VIP wristband and we would walk right in. We tried it. It worked---or so we thought, until I saw the security guy walking towards me out of the corner of my eye. Lol okay #fail1.

We explained the situation to him. My friend told me to speak only English. That would help our story if I pretended to be a clueless American girl. Then somehow my friend asked the security guard where he was from...and u guessed it...they were both from the city of Colon. That was it; in less than five seconds, that security guard walked right back and we walked right into VIP without problem. Later we slipped him $3.00. Gotta love third world hookups.

passionate performer

feelin' his music

And with that, I was rest assured in the VIP section.

Next mission was to work my way up to the front! And center. And if you know me, then you know I succeeded. I mean go hard or go home. And home is far from here. ;)

sandy days

The experience, the VIP hustle and all was amazing. The stadium was basically a stage set on the beach. So my feet were in sand. All the more hippie/bohemian and I loved every minute of it. Even the fact that the generator kept going out was exciting for me. When the lights went out we could see the stars. I have never thought the sky looked so beautiful. When my crew complained about the lights going out, I reminded them that we were at a reggae concert in Central America on the beach, feet in sand, how many more times will we be able to have this opportunity? Better yet, how grateful should we be that we even have this opportunity?

I even took a nap right there on the sand until the lights came back on. This was my type of thing. Beach vibin’ and reggae vibin’.

everyone diggin' the vibe

Rastas, backpackers, Panamanians, and a Sierra Leonean American girl who once dreamed of beach concerts. All of us came from different places for one thing: music. For the love of Sizzla's music and to witness his art. Music, if nothing else, is truly a powerful means of bringing people together. I will always remember the day I was walking in Suriname, a small country in South America. A black Surinamese approached me selling cds; I asked him what the hottest song was right now. He started singing ‘Yori Yori. There I was, somewhere in South America, oceans apart from Nigeria and the hottest song in Suriname, was a song by a Nigerian group. At that moment, I realized this: music is a binding force. Music transcends borders and oceans. 

Remember! Never take off your seatbelt---you never know what's next on Bee's Backseat---stay tuned for this weekend's adventure!