When Will We Have A Carnaval Museum? by David Leite
Every year, in the aftermath of the King Momo festival (Carnaval celebration), dragons, fabulous animals, and other enchanting creatures are left behind on the streets of Mindelo. The day before, raised on colossal floats, they had filled our imagination with magic and dreams, but now they lie inert. Of the dragons that had vomited fire the day before, only the carcasses remain. The gigantic size of the symbolic floats no longer dizzies us without yesterday’s queens and kings waving from above! Of the incredible engineering that gave wings and movement to the monsters, only the gears, gangrenous with rust, will remain. Their mission accomplished, these wonders are now condemned to the relentless rigors of time. To the trash!
On Ash Wednesday, we witness a parade of downcast, dying figures, ghosts of a glorious eve that inevitably ends in "ashes."
A question comes to mind: when will we create a Carnaval museum? So much plastic and other rubbish has lingered for centuries in nature, and the wonders of Carnaval are condemned to landfills? People of São Vicente, what is this?!
I'm talking about a real museum, not just a room where the most flashy costumes are displayed. I know: many are thinking about a hangar or "large yard" to display the symbolic floats... But Carnaval is not just about floats! And the floats, like the costumes, are perishable. Every year adds more paraphernalia, although there is no space large enough to preserve all the pieces ad eternum. In this proposed museum, the pieces on display would be renewed year after year, with the latest creations taking the place of the "expired" pieces. It is better for a magnificent float to survive for a year or two than to end up in "ashes" on Wednesday!
But, as I was saying, Carnaval is not just about floats. In a Carnaval museum, I also imagine rooms for exhibiting the most majestic costumes and accessories; a video library; and archives for audiovisual recordings (music, documentaries).
I see a Carnaval museum as an interactive and convivial space, in a conversational relationship with the public and the great protagonists of the King Momo festival. I envision room for projections, conferences, and debates to tell the story of Carnaval in words and images. I look forward to choreographic demonstrations and other attractions. Tourists would certainly appreciate it.
It is worth noting that such a Carnaval museum would be an important asset to be included in the tourist itinerary. Managed intelligently, it could be self-sufficient, rather than a financial burden on the municipal government. One could make his or her living (or part of it) from box office receipts, and also add income from a café or restaurant. The money raised could also sustain future Carnavals.
But money would not even be the most important function of the museum. A Carnaval museum would, in my opinion, be a fair and deserved recognition of the artisans, seamstresses, composers, musicians, and drummers: in short, all the artists and creators who give life and color to the biggest street show we have in Cape Verde.
The views expressed by this author in the text above do not necessarily reflect the opinions of ORKKA Music, its artists, or its staff.
