ag fair 2020.

let there be no mistake. there was a lot that called us to the island of St. Croix. good friends, delicious food, sumptuous sun, soft baked sand, larimar blue waters, the insistent ancestors. we’re island people by spirit + we certainly went for all those reasons. but, really, we went for Ag Fair.

February 2020 marked the 49th annual Agriculture + Food Fair of the U.S. Virgin Islands. affectionately called “Ag Fair” by the Crucian folks, this three day event showcased the wares of farmers, growers, chefs, artisans + musicians across the Caribbean. though it seems current + future years are leaning towards marketing the event as more of a “festival” it maintains it’s “homey” local fair atmosphere. with the island being so small + Ag Fair being so popular (only a step below Carnival in local importance), it feels more like a bigass block party, complete with marching bands, stilt walkers + all of the friends we’d made so far present + in the best form (black skin glistening under the sun is truly a warming sight). but Ag Fair also host a plethora of folks from all across the diaspora, the Virgin Islands + beyond. we met vendors from Puerto Rico, Ghana, Jamaica, Grenada, Barbados, Antigua, all over. it was magical + i felt damn-near spoiled by such a blessing.

each day we went to Ag Fair on a mission. day one’s mission: food. the smell of fried fish wafted through the early morning crowds as vendors welcomed the day with prayers of sizzling frying oil and sweating warming pans. there were a vast array of booths + vendors warming up pates (saltfish, beef, chicken, veggie, swoon.), chicken wings, fish, popcorn + more. we arrived at the fair shortly after 9 + as such the crowds were thin + some of the food vendors still setting up. we hastily purchased a beef pate for Ashley to munch on as we wandered the fair grounds getting our bearings, searching for friends + fresh fruit. upon meeting up with Ashley’s friend Michael, a fellow public health doctoral candidate who was visiting home, we headed to the long, low warehouse that housed the Farmers’ Market. we immediately ran into Tahirah at her family’s booth, selling the very plants we had been introduced to in their backyard. we hugged amid the lemon thyme, spearmint + basil as Tahirah reminisced over her lifetime attending the fair, “running amok + eating pates” as a young child, every year, every February. Errol wasn’t present, being elsewhere on the fair grounds, but we were introduced to Tahirah’s older sister, mother + grandfather.

after hugging + laughing with the Chichesters, we strolled along the lines of booths of farmers, growers, artisans + students from local schools as they displayed their very best wares + talents. we met folks from all over the Caribbean with booths overflowing with produce (turmeric, sweet potatoes, seasoning peppers, guava, eggplants, avocado, ochro (okra), fresh herbs + spices), fresh juices (ginger, sorrel, cane juice) + sauces. i snagged some Crucian homemade hot sauce: Joyce’s Real Deal Pepper Sauce. Joyce’s daughter shared with me that her mom has been making the pepper sauce for years + finally caved to her family’s request to bottle + sell it. i only bought it after being assured that it was, truly, very spicy. “no, no,” she said, “it’s very spicy.” i took her at her word. i also managed to snag some of Velma’s Hot Sauce + Preserves Papaya Chutney made from all natural fruits. i tasted about five different flavors (tamarind, guava, etc.) before deciding on the papaya. it was easily my favorite + also a favorite of the vendor selling it. a perfect mix of flavor, sweetness + a heavy, hearty heat. standing in my kitchen now, looking at my lone jar, i lament not buying three or four jars. i tell you, my hunger for spice is damn near insatiable.

by lunch, we were on the search for the obligatory “plate of food”, a platter, more or less. Michael, Ashley + i found ourselves in a long queue for Angela’s Corner. the menu, written in hurried Sharpie on a highlighter green poster board, boasted curry goat, bbq ribs, fried, curry + BBQ chicken, conch in butter sauce, kallaloo, saltfish cakes, johnny cake + a slew of my favorite sides (seasoned rice, baked mac + cheese, potato salad). assured by the other folks in line that this indeed was one of the best food vendors, we eagerly waited our turn + put in our food order. after a short delay where we realized that they did not take debit cards as payment + had to quickly find the ATM, we were blessed with our platters + marched out onto the fair grounds looking for the perfect lunch spot. picnic tables painted an amazingly bright yellow were nestled under rows + rows of (sadly unripe) mango trees. finding one that was perfectly positioned so it was bathed half in shade + half in unapologetic sunshine.

finally, all seated + settled, we popped open our styrofoam platters. i ordered a plate of curry fish topped with juicy, stewed peppers + onions, accompanied by seasoned rice, cabbage, mac + cheese, + stir fry vegetables. i was also introduced to crucian potato stuffing which is essentially a slice of sweet potato pie; i found it quite satisfying. i cracked open my newly purchased bottle of Joyce’s Real Deal Pepper Sauce, poured it over my food + was far from disappointed. it was very spicy, + i happily hiccuped over my plate, occasionally dabbing at my eyes + nose. Tahirah soon joined us, having finished her time at the booth, + we passed the lunch time hour lounging + laughing across the bright yellow picnic table, debating language, culture, science, race; sharing childhood stories + adulthood longings; browning in the sun + basking in the fleeting feelings of freedom.

i could go on + on with stories from those three days at Ag Fair: discussing the meaning of sovereignty with elders; watching dancers on stilts or draped in traditional madras; hiding from the downpour, darting from tent to tent + making friends with vendors on the rainy second day; picking our way across the sticky + muddy field (masquerading as a parking lot) in sandals, trying not to slip or drop our ginger beers; dancing to Damian Marley + getting hyped by strangers. the memories alone drip with the salty tastes of fried foods, seductive smells of grilling meats, the cacophony of weaving accents, the feel of sun planting vicious kisses on bare skin. the market place bustling with haggling black bodies, picnic tables packed with beaming black faces, foods tended, prepared + passed between black hands, the innumerable colors of cultures across black lands. it was a moment out of time, a moment full of time. it reminds me of that quote of Vertamae’s: “Imagine an Ashanti bride cooking rice in Kingston. Imagine a thirsty Yoruba king in a Cuban canebrake. Imagine a kidnapped Dahomey queen in the kitchen of Mt. Vernon, a Senegambian prince preparing she-crab soup in Charleston. In the land of magnolias, a place with no palm oil and no drums, the Africans, like the Israelites in the wilderness, had a longing for the foods of their homeland.”

“Agriculture: Trendy in 2020”, the year’s theme is found plastered on banners + event programs. there’s both so much truth + limitation in that statement. agriculture is indeed trendy in the 2020. growing is fashionable now, to be an urban farmer saving the hood, to be a plant mom whose home is drowning in green… it’s all Instagram ready + hashtag friendly. but it’s more than that. it is, literally, the way of life, the meaning of living, of thriving; it’s a cause for celebration, a daily marriage + passing; it’s a universe unto itself; it is a goddamn religion. + it’s exactly what Black folks have been doing since there have been Black folks. + Ag Fair, 49 years strong + going nowhere is a testament. here was a stunning showcase of diasporic foodways + cultural conversations. the sharing of agricultural knowledge + talent, of culinary prowess + creativity. it is both birthright + privilege that we are still able to claim + name these spaces.

awed by the timelessness of Black foodways. hungry for a plate of food from Angela’s Corner, a saltfish pate + Joyce’s Pepper Sauce.