The drums sounded like they were 20 feet tall in the Peabody’s cavernous main hall. A crowd of people packed into one half of it, drawn by the propulsive beat. A saxophone and whistle floated over the top. Musician Michael Mills had already gotten a dozen people to join him in the percussion section and was still handing out drums, instructing people what to do. When the groove settled in, Mills approached the mike and began to chant.
“The drums speak,” he said.
The Peabody Museum’s annual celebration Monday of Martin Luther King Day, now 20 years running, was nearing its end and was still in full swing. Upstairs from the main hall, the museum’s auditorium had once again been turned into the hippest poetry club around.
Hours before, the Zannette Lewis Environmental and Social Justice Community Poetry Open Mic had been held there, and anyone who’d registered had a chance to get up. Later in the afternoon, however, the event shifted to the poets whom host Ngoma had invited to compete in a poetry slam, and the cash that came with first prize. As the slam headed into its final round, Ngoma explained that, as he had in previous years, he spent the year cultivating his list of contestants, going from slam and slam and approaching only the people who impressed him the most.
“People ask me, can I just show up?’ Hell no, you can’t just show up,” Ngoma said, to laughter. “So give a lot of love to the poets in the house.”
Last year poet Porsha Olayiwola had come to New Haven from Boston to take home first prize. This year, the final three came down to NYC poets Roya Marsh — who also made top three last year — and Ashley August, squaring off against New Haven’s own Midnight.
August got up to perform a piece and then gathered momentum like a runaway train, a piece about an emotionally abusive relationship that ended in a blur of violence. August showed us she knew how to use a microphone, and then showed that she didn’t need it. August’s writing and acting chops were in full force.
“We got blood on the stage,” someone murmured from the audience, as Midnight got up and got ready.
Midnight took a moment to collect himself, then took a step toward the mic. “Welcome to the woods,” he said with a smile, inviting us in. Once we were inside, though, Midnight plunged us into a dark story, a fairy tale turned hideously inside out, about how the neighborhood he lives in eats its young. The cheers that followed let him know that he’d won the slam, even before the scores were settled.
Back downstairs, the drums were still speaking, and would until the end of the Peabody’s Martin Luther King Day celebration, over an hour later. David Heiser, the Peabody’s head of education and outreach, estimated that the event drew about 4,000 visitors.
“We had 1,000 by noon and people kept coming,” he said. “We’re very happy.”