As most of you know, I am a bit… enthusiastic about my heritage and my culture. I have a feeling that this enthusiasm has been part of the underlying reasons why I decided to study French in college and continues to play a large role in my life. It is what brought me to spend 10 days in New Brunswick this summer, relishing in all things Acadian. If you are already well informed on this whole Congrès Mondial Acadien thing, you could probably skip the next paragraph. But if you'd like a small back story, continue on, starting with this video.
Coming back from France last summer, I attended a meeting at the Blue Moon Saloon for les Jeunes Cadiens. There I became part of a group of cajuns on the younger side of the spectrum who were interested in helping prepare the Louisiana's bid to host the 2014 Congrès Mondial Acadien (World Acadian Congress— check it out on wikipedia to get a decent grasp on what this event is). I went to the meetings when I was in town, did what I could from Arkansas (which wasn't much) and watched as a number of very talented and very dedicated people managed to put together a spectacular bid. I held my breath with the others as skype allowed us to see the announcement of the winner in real time and I felt the disappointment settle over the room when Acadie des terres et forêts was awarded the Congrès. And then I was able to complete this experience by attending this year's Congrès in New Brunswick, Canada. A group of five of these Jeunes Cadiens was offered the chance to attend the CMA 2009 as part of the Louisiana Delegation. I won't go into specifics, rather, know that we were there to work and to experience, volunteer and absorb, and, of course, to promote Louisiana.
I don't think that I can do this trip justice—and it definitely does not lend itself to detailing out day by day our experiences. I guess the best that I can do is to share several of the more potent moments, and the stories that spark from them. One of the most intense of these moments happened the day that we arrived…aka longest day of our lives.
In one of the longest travel times of my life, we made it from Lafayette to St. Isidore, New Brunswick, leaving one at 7 am and greeting the other at 5:30 am. Working on essentially an hour of sleep and Tim Hortons, the group of us immediately went to Caraquet, a small town in the Acadian Peninsula to celebrate August 15, Acadian Day. According to the media, 50,000 people descended onto Caraquet to partake in the Tintamarre (which is another good project for you on wikipedia). The goal of the Tintamarre, as I understood it, was to make as much noise as possible, having it all culminate at 17:55, the year the Acadians were deported. I don't think that I could attempt any sort of eloquence in describing the reason behind making the noise. Depending on whom you asked the reasons varied. To celebrate being of Acadian descent. To call attention to the fact the Acadians are still alive and well. To declare a sort of indirect revenge on the deportation. I latched onto the idea of an expression of this joy that comes from the reunion of long-lost cousins. With this thought being turned over and over in my mind, and with the Acadiana flag as my own personal cape, I floated through a sea of red, white, blue and that gold star.
At 17:55, the church bells started to ring—except you couldn't hear them. The noise exploded from all sides: whistles, trumpets, drums, cries… any noisemaker you could possibly imagine joined in this uproar of emotion. I was surrounded by strangers, yet family, all of us expressing this emotion in the loudest way possible. We had come together for the same reason and this underlying connection permeated every interaction; every smile, every "excuse me" was laced with "hey there cousin, I'm glad you're here."
Overall, excitement that Louisiana did have a presence at this year's CMA was everywhere. People let us know that they were thankful that we were there—whether organizing the LeBlanc family reunion, feeding hungry bellies, or introducing them to the ways of the two step. The welcome we received everywhere we went was astonishing.
After a first day as moving as that one, the tone for the rest of the trip was set. We spent our days at Espace Neuf in Pokemouche, working either in the kitchen/serving area or the Louisiana tourism booth. Every day was a juxtaposition of the most inspiring moments and these disappointing realities. We'd see how awesome it was to be living amongst Acadians speaking Acadian French, to witness the pride that they have in their culture and their language… the fact that they were living both of them. Then we'd be standing next to monolingual members of the tourism bureau, handing out Louisiana State Guide books in English, exchanging apologies for sympathetic nods. In a weird way, the burden of the language fell to us: "Do you not have any information in French?" "Louisiana still speaks French, right?" "Why do they (the tourism people) not speak French, yet you, the youth, do?" Each time I heard these questions, this heavy sigh of what exactly the français cadien is up against settled on my shoulders. But, after explaining for the thirtieth time that français cadien had been lost in my family, but that I had learned standard French in public schooling, the praises that followed were nearly enough to make the heart forget why it was so heavy seconds before. "You learned in school? Because you wanted to? That's very admirable" "Your French is very good for not having grown up speaking it." "Congratulations for not letting go of your culture..."
Even with so much emotion surrounding the days, the moments that made the Congrès such a memorable experience were the evenings. Once we had finished with our official duties, whatever they may have been, the evenings were ours. From impromptu jam sessions after a long night of Cajun dancing to more mellow soirées of Acadieman le Movie, we filled spare time well and conversation dominated. Being with people who are just as passionate about the culture cadienne and being able to discuss with them the emotions and repercussions of this Congrès as they were happening was the most informative and rewarding part of the whole trip. We'd spend hours sharing what we thought needs to happen to revive francophone Louisiana. Over crab, hummus, and red wine, we'd talk with an Acadienne of ways to involve the youth more. Having to explain the cultural and linguistic situation that Louisiana has to our waitress over a beer helped us better understand the plight that we are in and what we can do to change things. While staying up till five in the morning may not have been the best idea for our next day moods, speaking about our identities, the words cadien/Cajun, where we learned our French and why seemed incredibly important at that moment. And important it was. These are the things that impacted me the most, and these discussions will continue now that we have left Canada. In fact, tonight we have our first discussion with the Lafayette community, wrapping up our experiences. Tomorrow is a meeting of the Jeunes Cadiens, where we will begin, in earnest, to enact some of the changes we mentioned in the ease of early morning hours.
I'm not sure how else to attempt explanations of attending a Congrès Mondial Acadien, or how to explain the movement that our failed bid has started. Wheels are turning, emotions are high, and people are ready to do something about it. I feel like this time around we have the resources and the drive to faire quelque chose.
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