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I was standing alone in Clifford Park in Nassau, Bahamas surrounded by a people I didn’t know, in a land I had never visited,
looking overhead at the many flying Bahamian flags. Suddenly, I remembered that I was in a foreign country. For a moment I was
overwhelmed. Water filled my eyes. What on earth was I, an African American woman, doing here all alone? Elaine Lee, editor of
“Go Girl” The Black Woman’s Book of Travel & Adventure, had said,”We as black women have been reluctant travelers for far
too long. The world is waiting for you.” Well here I was out in this world that was waiting for me scared to death.
The first person to approach me was a small framed black man in a black suit with a white freshly ironed shirt, not drycleaners
ironed, home ironed fresh and crisp.
looking overhead at the many flying Bahamian flags. Suddenly, I remembered that I was in a foreign country. For a moment I was
overwhelmed. Water filled my eyes. What on earth was I, an African American woman, doing here all alone? Elaine Lee, editor of
“Go Girl” The Black Woman’s Book of Travel & Adventure, had said,”We as black women have been reluctant travelers for far
too long. The world is waiting for you.” Well here I was out in this world that was waiting for me scared to death.
The first person to approach me was a small framed black man in a black suit with a white freshly ironed shirt, not drycleaners
ironed, home ironed fresh and crisp.
“How’s you be,” he asked.
” Fine,” I answered.
“You stranger to these parts,” he continued.
I nodded my head.
“You come to see Ronnie,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered. “You know we call Ronnie the
Godfather of Bahamian Music that boy been singing a
long time”.
Another cinnamon colored lady walked up with short
cropped hair, small build, glasses that seemed to cover
her face with a piece of paper in her hand. She talked
to the man.
“I ready,” she said.
“My poetry been in my heart and now I ready to share
it tonight,” she said.
” Fine,” I answered.
“You stranger to these parts,” he continued.
I nodded my head.
“You come to see Ronnie,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered. “You know we call Ronnie the
Godfather of Bahamian Music that boy been singing a
long time”.
Another cinnamon colored lady walked up with short
cropped hair, small build, glasses that seemed to cover
her face with a piece of paper in her hand. She talked
to the man.
“I ready,” she said.
“My poetry been in my heart and now I ready to share
it tonight,” she said.
I was standing alone in Clifford Park in Nassau, Bahamas surrounded by a people I didn’t know, in a land I had never visited,
looking overhead at the many flying Bahamian flags. Suddenly, I remembered that I was in a foreign country. For a moment I
was overwhelmed. Water filled my eyes. What on earth was I, an African American woman, doing here all alone? Elaine Lee,
editor of “Go Girl” The Black Woman’s Book of Travel & Adventure, had said,”We as black women have been reluctant travelers
for far too long. The world is waiting for you.” Well here I was out in this world that was waiting for me scared to death.
The first person to approach me was a small framed black man in a black suit with a white freshly ironed shirt, not drycleaners
ironed, home ironed fresh and crisp.
“How’s you be,” he asked.
” Fine,” I answered.
“You stranger to these parts,” he continued.
I nodded my head.
“You come to see Ronnie,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered. “You know we call Ronnie the Godfather of Bahamian Music that boy been singing a long time”.
Another cinnamon colored lady walked up with short cropped hair, small build, glasses that seemed to cover her face with a piece
of paper in her hand. She talked to the man.
“I ready,” she said.
“My poetry been in my heart and now I ready to share it tonight,” she said.
Several other people gathered and slowly the crowd thickened. I stood in a sea of people, colors ranging from nutmeg to charcoal
black. They wore blue jeans and T shirts, shorts and polo tops, sun dresses and jump suits and Bob Marley’s shirts. I stood
there watching and then remembered I needed to find and meet Fred Ferguson, Entertainment Consultant to the Ministry of
Tourism. After all, that was the reason I was here. I had met Fred through the internet advertisement about the Hurricane Relief
Concert to be held in Clifford Park. Clifford Park is located at Fort Fincastle. Fort Fincastle is shaped like a paddle-wheel
steamer. It was built by Lord Dunmore about 1793, overlooking the town from Bennet’s Hill. Meditating on this fact I stood
gazing up at the many flags surrounding the park and reflecting on their symbolism. I had come to help raise funds for the people
and to meet my favorite Bahamian artist, Ronnie Butler. I walked back up to the band that I had met earlier. Bo Hog was the
leader, he was a medium build brown skinned man with a salt and pepper beard and a child-like smile.
“Like what you see so far maam,” he said. I nodded.
“What’s wrong the look on your face say something is wrong,” he said.
I told him I needed to find Fred.
“Fred my cusin.” “I ain’t surprised you know him everybody know Fred.” “Come this way,” he said.
As we walked we approached this 6 foot 2 inch, browned skinned Denzel Washington built man, with a sexy smile. Was this Fred?
I certainly hoped so.
“Fred this lady says she here to meet u,” he said.
Fred reached out his hand, “hello I am Fred Ferguson.”
He was more Americanized than the others; he spoke very clearly with a hint of Bahamian accent. He was dressed in a pair of
white linen slacks and shirt that was blowing in the wind. He reminded me of the character Crocket in “Miami Vice” the series.
“Hello Connie Sue you didn’t follow directions very well did you,” Fred said.
He knew me but how, oh be still my heart.
“You were to call me when you arrived at the hotel,” he said.
I stood there I guess looking stupid, I was still in shock at how good he looked and s-m-e-l-l-e-d.
“Anyway you made it safe are you hungry or thirsty,” he asked.
I managed a nod. After I met Fred I was an instant celebrity. Fred nodded and this 5’9” charcoal colored hunk took me by the hand
and led me up front, I felt as if I was floating on air. He became my special escort for the rest of the evening. Everyone was
pleasant and friendly and treated me as if I belonged. My adventurous side kicked in and I set out to enjoy this opportunity and to
meet every artist that I had a CD of and those I didn’t. I was determined to dance to soca, rake ‘n scrape, Junkanoo and any other
music played. I was Fred’s special friend and guest for this evening. I enjoyed the VIP treatment.
The vendors were busy setting up the food. I met other Rake ‘N Scrape bands and the members were very friendly. Everybody
was friendly. I met this band and they said they were all family. There were black men and white men. They explained how they
were related. I certainly believed them. They all spoke with the same accent which was a little different from the others. They
were from Cat Island. They shared their food and drinks and ate with the same fork and spoon. “You want tis,” “no mon I got
enough”, “pass the salt”, “what you is,” they said as they continued to eat.
I met ladies who would do spoken word poetry and others who would sing and dance, they all talked to me as if they had known
me forever. There is a kindred spirit among all African people, whether from America, Bahamas, Europe, or any continent in the
world, we all seem to relate to each other.
Hurricane Season 2004 was a very challenging one. The State of Florida was hit by four big storms; Hurricanes Charley, Frances,
Ivan and Jeanne. The storms left many areas devastated. Two areas hit hardest were the two Bahamian Islands of Grand Bahama
and Abaco. Many Bahamian Islands were affected by the hurricanes; but Grand Bahama received the highest damage and was
declared an emergency. As residents and friends of the Bahamas living in Florida and other states rushed to aid this country, the
local countrymen did their part. This Hurricane Relief Concert was held in Nassau.
The funds came in slowly but steadily, kind of like my engulfing this people and culture. Slowly they were drawing me in. I was
falling in love with this place and peoples. The concert continued through the night. As promised I met the artists one by one after
they sang. I took several pictures with Ronnie Butler and talked longest to him. Ronnie is around 5’9, I understand he has
recently recovered from a spell of sickness but I could tell he was a lover in his day, he is still very handsome. We talked.
“How long you been in the island,” he asked.
I answered.
“What about my music do you like best,” he continued.
The lyrics I said.
“Be sure you come back to see us soon,” he said as we parted.
I don’t know what all of my answers were I just wanted him to keep talking. His hair is graying now and he is known as the
Godfather of Music in the Bahamas. When you look in his eyes you see wisdom, tenacity, courage and strength. He has fought
many battles to get Bahamian music out to the rest of the world. I still don’t believe I had my own private uninterrupted audience
with him.
I stayed at the concert until 3 a.m. and Fred got a taxi to take me back to the hotel.
I was up early the next morning on the beach, inhaling the salt air, feeling the sun on my face and enjoying the warm waves hitting
my body. Evidence of the recent storms was apparent, signs knocked over, small buildings crushed and the bulldozers were out
leveling the sand from the surge. After a nice swim and walk on the beach I purchased a tour ticket to see Nassau. The adage you
can’t help someone without helping yourself is true. I came to help raise funds for the victims of the hurricanes and meet a few
artists. In return I got to interact with a very fine people and explore the magnificent city of Nassau, Bahamas. I returned to
Clifford Park, waiting to get close to another artist “Nita” would I get to see her and talk to her like I had Ronnie? My heart began
pounding. She was on stage, I began looking for Fred. I was off on another adventure. That is me Connie Sue always looking
for something new to do.
looking overhead at the many flying Bahamian flags. Suddenly, I remembered that I was in a foreign country. For a moment I
was overwhelmed. Water filled my eyes. What on earth was I, an African American woman, doing here all alone? Elaine Lee,
editor of “Go Girl” The Black Woman’s Book of Travel & Adventure, had said,”We as black women have been reluctant travelers
for far too long. The world is waiting for you.” Well here I was out in this world that was waiting for me scared to death.
The first person to approach me was a small framed black man in a black suit with a white freshly ironed shirt, not drycleaners
ironed, home ironed fresh and crisp.
“How’s you be,” he asked.
” Fine,” I answered.
“You stranger to these parts,” he continued.
I nodded my head.
“You come to see Ronnie,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered. “You know we call Ronnie the Godfather of Bahamian Music that boy been singing a long time”.
Another cinnamon colored lady walked up with short cropped hair, small build, glasses that seemed to cover her face with a piece
of paper in her hand. She talked to the man.
“I ready,” she said.
“My poetry been in my heart and now I ready to share it tonight,” she said.
Several other people gathered and slowly the crowd thickened. I stood in a sea of people, colors ranging from nutmeg to charcoal
black. They wore blue jeans and T shirts, shorts and polo tops, sun dresses and jump suits and Bob Marley’s shirts. I stood
there watching and then remembered I needed to find and meet Fred Ferguson, Entertainment Consultant to the Ministry of
Tourism. After all, that was the reason I was here. I had met Fred through the internet advertisement about the Hurricane Relief
Concert to be held in Clifford Park. Clifford Park is located at Fort Fincastle. Fort Fincastle is shaped like a paddle-wheel
steamer. It was built by Lord Dunmore about 1793, overlooking the town from Bennet’s Hill. Meditating on this fact I stood
gazing up at the many flags surrounding the park and reflecting on their symbolism. I had come to help raise funds for the people
and to meet my favorite Bahamian artist, Ronnie Butler. I walked back up to the band that I had met earlier. Bo Hog was the
leader, he was a medium build brown skinned man with a salt and pepper beard and a child-like smile.
“Like what you see so far maam,” he said. I nodded.
“What’s wrong the look on your face say something is wrong,” he said.
I told him I needed to find Fred.
“Fred my cusin.” “I ain’t surprised you know him everybody know Fred.” “Come this way,” he said.
As we walked we approached this 6 foot 2 inch, browned skinned Denzel Washington built man, with a sexy smile. Was this Fred?
I certainly hoped so.
“Fred this lady says she here to meet u,” he said.
Fred reached out his hand, “hello I am Fred Ferguson.”
He was more Americanized than the others; he spoke very clearly with a hint of Bahamian accent. He was dressed in a pair of
white linen slacks and shirt that was blowing in the wind. He reminded me of the character Crocket in “Miami Vice” the series.
“Hello Connie Sue you didn’t follow directions very well did you,” Fred said.
He knew me but how, oh be still my heart.
“You were to call me when you arrived at the hotel,” he said.
I stood there I guess looking stupid, I was still in shock at how good he looked and s-m-e-l-l-e-d.
“Anyway you made it safe are you hungry or thirsty,” he asked.
I managed a nod. After I met Fred I was an instant celebrity. Fred nodded and this 5’9” charcoal colored hunk took me by the hand
and led me up front, I felt as if I was floating on air. He became my special escort for the rest of the evening. Everyone was
pleasant and friendly and treated me as if I belonged. My adventurous side kicked in and I set out to enjoy this opportunity and to
meet every artist that I had a CD of and those I didn’t. I was determined to dance to soca, rake ‘n scrape, Junkanoo and any other
music played. I was Fred’s special friend and guest for this evening. I enjoyed the VIP treatment.
The vendors were busy setting up the food. I met other Rake ‘N Scrape bands and the members were very friendly. Everybody
was friendly. I met this band and they said they were all family. There were black men and white men. They explained how they
were related. I certainly believed them. They all spoke with the same accent which was a little different from the others. They
were from Cat Island. They shared their food and drinks and ate with the same fork and spoon. “You want tis,” “no mon I got
enough”, “pass the salt”, “what you is,” they said as they continued to eat.
I met ladies who would do spoken word poetry and others who would sing and dance, they all talked to me as if they had known
me forever. There is a kindred spirit among all African people, whether from America, Bahamas, Europe, or any continent in the
world, we all seem to relate to each other.
Hurricane Season 2004 was a very challenging one. The State of Florida was hit by four big storms; Hurricanes Charley, Frances,
Ivan and Jeanne. The storms left many areas devastated. Two areas hit hardest were the two Bahamian Islands of Grand Bahama
and Abaco. Many Bahamian Islands were affected by the hurricanes; but Grand Bahama received the highest damage and was
declared an emergency. As residents and friends of the Bahamas living in Florida and other states rushed to aid this country, the
local countrymen did their part. This Hurricane Relief Concert was held in Nassau.
The funds came in slowly but steadily, kind of like my engulfing this people and culture. Slowly they were drawing me in. I was
falling in love with this place and peoples. The concert continued through the night. As promised I met the artists one by one after
they sang. I took several pictures with Ronnie Butler and talked longest to him. Ronnie is around 5’9, I understand he has
recently recovered from a spell of sickness but I could tell he was a lover in his day, he is still very handsome. We talked.
“How long you been in the island,” he asked.
I answered.
“What about my music do you like best,” he continued.
The lyrics I said.
“Be sure you come back to see us soon,” he said as we parted.
I don’t know what all of my answers were I just wanted him to keep talking. His hair is graying now and he is known as the
Godfather of Music in the Bahamas. When you look in his eyes you see wisdom, tenacity, courage and strength. He has fought
many battles to get Bahamian music out to the rest of the world. I still don’t believe I had my own private uninterrupted audience
with him.
I stayed at the concert until 3 a.m. and Fred got a taxi to take me back to the hotel.
I was up early the next morning on the beach, inhaling the salt air, feeling the sun on my face and enjoying the warm waves hitting
my body. Evidence of the recent storms was apparent, signs knocked over, small buildings crushed and the bulldozers were out
leveling the sand from the surge. After a nice swim and walk on the beach I purchased a tour ticket to see Nassau. The adage you
can’t help someone without helping yourself is true. I came to help raise funds for the victims of the hurricanes and meet a few
artists. In return I got to interact with a very fine people and explore the magnificent city of Nassau, Bahamas. I returned to
Clifford Park, waiting to get close to another artist “Nita” would I get to see her and talk to her like I had Ronnie? My heart began
pounding. She was on stage, I began looking for Fred. I was off on another adventure. That is me Connie Sue always looking
for something new to do.
| Always Looking for Something New in the Bahamas! Connie Bend |