Making Maki is the home of Maki B. It’s where all of life’s parts meet. Figuring out the work-life balance, managing finances, navigating relationships, finding the things that give us joy, appreciating life’s journey and caring for ourselves along the way. Making Maki isn’t about finding any particular thing; it’s about always searching for the best versions of ourselves and making the most of all of life’s lessons and opportunities.
I’m still on a St. Maarten Day cloud nine. Actually, possibility does exist that I’m higher than cloud nine. I had a wonderful St. Maarten Day. Thanks to technology, I was able to enjoy the morning celebrations from home. In the afternoon, I headed out to enjoy the parade with my other half and my brother and his family. To say that the parade blew me away would be an understatement.
First, I was surprised by the number of people waiting on the sidelines with me. There were so many of us along Pondfill that it actually felt like a real Carnival parade. Posted up on Pondfill, leaning against our cars, we ended up talking and joking with the people around us. We were there for hours and it was wonderful. I’ve always felt like people come out in large numbers for Carnival, but are kinda “meh” for other events throughout the year; but not for this parade. We were out there!
The second thing that caught me by surprise was the number of people and troupes that were a part of the parade. Seeing the schools represented by students and teachers together made me think that the celebration of our culture could go on for generations to come. Similarly, seeing groups from other islands such as Aruba and the Dominican Republic celebrate St. Martin reminded me that we can celebrate all parts of our identities.
Being in the Village and seeing us all eating the same foods made me happy. I had a guy, who is originally from Jamaica, tell me about how much he loved Guinness and conch and dumpling and Johnny cake. It left me confused for a second, but then I realized that was how combinations work – we are all a combination of so many things. I am a combination of St. Maarten, Anguilla, Curaçao and St. Kitts and Nevis. I am a product of migration.
Grandparents and parents moving between St. Maarten, Anguilla, Curaçao, Aruba, St. Kitts and Nevis and the Netherlands, all seeking places that would speak to their ideas of home. My father, who is now out here living his best life in his early 70s, has spent a little over half of his years on St. Maarten. Born and raised on Aruba, he called that place home before testing the waters on St. Maarten and then moving to the Netherlands. He finally came back to St. Maarten, where he met my mother, and I happened to enter the world at St. Rose Hospital. If either of them had continued their family history of migration, I may have been in Curaçao or elsewhere. Who knows!
My other half is also a product of migration. Two amazing people, who happen to be his parents, came from the Netherlands to the Caribbean over 40 years ago and have called this part of the world home ever since. Their children are as culturally Antillean as I am. If you are looking for a bush to save your life, my other half is your person. (I am a Caribbean woman that never drinks tea.) He sounds like me – plus or minus a few words we pronounce differently. He makes fun of the way St. Maarten people say purple and Burger King. I in turn make fun of the way he says “police” in his Statia accent (imagine the longest ‘o’ song you have ever heard).
We grew up on the same music. We often go down memory lane with our parents talking about the geopolitics of the Antilles. When we’re watching Netflix and it buffers, we joke about having to point the television antennae to catch St. Croix. Despite our shared experiences and love for these intrinsic parts of our identities, I am deemed what he is not. I am deemed what many of my friends are not. I am deemed to be “from here”. St. Martin Day reminded me that “from here” can be so many things. It can be just about anything, as long as it is based on the principles of love, respect and a desire to give to this place called St. Martin – to wave her flag and to take pride in her is to put her first.
As I took in what was happening around me on St. Maarten Day, my heart smiled when I saw and heard the people around me. They were all enjoying the parade together. They were all celebrating St. Martin’s history together. They were all out to support St. Martin together. The people I spoke to throughout the day didn’t all sound alike. Some had long vowels and some didn’t. Regardless, I didn’t hear a negative word spoken at the parade or in the Festival Village. We were all out for the St. Martin we share – the St. Martin we call home.
