A fine time telling stories on Isle Madame

Laurent d’Entremont



This fall I had the pleasure to be invited to perform at the storytelling festival in Cape Breton’s Richmond County.

The festival had storytellers and musicians from all over the country, even as far away as the Yukon.

Compared with the raconteur from the north, I was not very far from home, yet it was a seven-hour drive from my home in Yarmouth County, and with stops along the way it was an all-day drive to reach Arichat on Isle Madame.

The festival was a celebration of diverse cultures and traditions. Some, like me, told their stories with words; others did it through songs, dances, skits, pantomimes and puppets.

Being a bilingual event, performances were in French only the first day, which limited the number of entertainers because many preferred to do their performance at the English sessions.

The festival debuted at “La Picasse�, a multifunctional Francophone community and cultural institution in Petit de Grat. For some reason, it fell on my shoulders to be the first storyteller at the welcoming banquet at La Picasse. The venue was packed with people I had never seen before, but apparently my storytelling reputation had preceded me because the woman in charge of this institution warned me that she expected “strictly French�, nothing else. In other words, do not to substitute English words, as the French speaking in my part of the province are fond of doing.

To be honest, I was nervous enough as it was before her warning. This was not the Wilf Carter Night in Canning, where I feel completely at home and have a sense of belonging. On Isle Madame I was a stranger. Would I be able to read my English cue cards and speak in French at the same time? Would the crowd laugh at my corny jokes? Would they understand my Pubnico accent? I would soon find out.

A lady representing “La Sagouine� introduced me. She was doing a great job and had the audience roaring with laughter. I only hoped that she was not stealing my thunder.

I had a few aces up my sleeves though. I hoped my trademark red tie dangling would attract the audience and hold their attention. My other strict rule was ‘never take a drink before performing’. It is difficult enough to remember your lines when stone sober. I had stayed away from the wine cellar although others had not and were in a happy mood. Besides, it is normal to be nervous in front of a large crowd.

As it turned out, I had worried for nothing; the audience roared with laughter and applauded at all the right places. La Sagouine said kindly that I was a tough act to follow.

The next act was Robert Seven Crows Bourdon -- part Mi’kmaq and part Metis -- who had all the charm and charisma that years of entertaining had taught him. He soon had the audience in the palm of his hand.

Bourdon knew his stuff well, telling his stories with drums, songs and dance. He told stories about the “wind eagle� of Mi’kmaq folklore and the life of his ancestors in his native Quebec. He was good and I was glad I did not have to follow him on stage.

The evening ended with the traditional French music and dances of Jeanne and Wayne Currie. They originally lived near Saint Mary’s Bay, but make their home now in the beautiful, historic town of Annapolis. The Curries are well-known and well-loved performers by audiences of the Annapolis Valley.

The audience at this festival participated in some of their musical numbers. I did too, having finally visited the ‘vine cellar’. It was lots of fun.

Next day in Arichat, we all performed in English. Robert Seven Crows Bourdon and I had the pleasure of being introduced by Silver Donald Cameron. We both know Mr. Cameron as a good friend from many years back. He now makes his home on Isle Madame.

The Storytellers Circle from Halifax and others had great entertainment for the crowd as well.

Before returning home, I enjoyed the company of my long-time friends, Earl and Rose Doyle in D’Escousse. The Doyles are formerly from Port Williams where they operated the Country Squire Bed and Breakfast. They are retired now in their new home on the island.

Earl Doyle, who has a barn and horse, would not let me leave before we went on a buggy ride. It was very enjoyable, but I felt a bit sorry for the horse that sweated to pull us up some of those hills.

Isle Madame was a great learning experience. My only hope is that the lady from La Picasse will eventually forgive me though, because in spite of her warning, I did mix in a few English words with my less-than-adequate French.

Somehow, my punch-lines sounded better in English.



laudent@hotmail.com