Power to the Peaceful 2008

Over the past year, I’ve come to discover that nothing in this world makes me happier than going to a music festival. There’s something about that combination of people, music, sun and all-around good vibes that makes me feel more alive than I ever have before. Summer is slowly sliding away and with that, the season for festivals is coming to an end but this past Saturday, I was surprised to find a massive gathering of people right in my own backyard who had come together for the “Power to the Peaceful” festival in Golden Gate Park.

I had heard about the festival while doing research for the magazine and suggested to my roommates that we go. Always eager to participate in a social event that promotes peace and activism, we marked the date and made sure we’d be there. Back in Ithaca, New York, they had seen Michael Franti and Spearhead a few times – always coming back dripping in sweat from dancing too hard and raving about the amazing show he had put on. I of course, always had to work at the bar next door and was resigned to serving them cold beers post-show. Not knowing what to expect from this show, I was looking forward to seeing Franti live and dancing all day.

Saturday morning came and we began preparing for what has become the normal routine for us to leave the apartment since Gabby (roommate #1) broke her ankle. We packed a lunch, brought a sheet for a picnic and helped Gabby hobble her way down the stairs and into the awaiting wheelchair that probably weighs more than she does. Our little expedition consisted of myself, our friend Matt, roommate #2: Sonia, and of course Gabby. To our great surprise, the weather was absolutely beautiful and for us east coast transplants, it finally felt like summer.

Our apartment is only five blocks from the entrance to Golden Gate Park so we figured we’d walk, enjoy the sun and get Gabby out of the apartment for as long as possible. Besides, navigating a bus with a wheelchair on a Saturday is not exactly my idea of fun. The walk was a measly 30 blocks (halfway through the adventure, we realized that the festival was being held rather deep inside the park), but it did give us a chance to finally see some of the city. And by city, I mean the strip of the Inner Sunset that lines Golden Gate Park. Our journey was also slowed down by our efforts to find the smoothest paths possible for the wheelchair, not always an easy task inside a park.

Once inside the park, we followed the crowds of people and made our way towards the music coming through the trees. It wasn’t hard to pick out whom to follow; just tag along the trail of dreadlocks, backpacks and biodiesel vans. What amazed me though, and continues to do so after a month of living in this city, was how concerned and genuine the people of this city are. Numerous folks asked Gabby how she had gotten hurt and did we need help getting to the festival. An elderly couple on matching motorized scooters even stopped to let us know that the path we were taking was going to be extremely difficult with a wheelchair. Back home, this would never have happened, or if it did, would be considered quite a rare act of kindness. But here, it just seemed normal and we gladly chatted with anyone who walked with us while greatly appreciating his or her help.

As we got closer, it became quite apparent that this was not what we had expected. The crowds became thicker and the music was getting louder. Turning onto JFK Drive, the entire festival came into view and almost took my breath away. I had expected a couple thousand people with a few vendors, some snack areas and families picnicking among the field. What I saw was a sea of people starting from the stage about half a mile away and only beginning to spread out at the top of the hill where we stood. Three rows of vendor tents emerged among the crowds and towards the back (where we were) a dance tent pumped some really dirty beats to a crowd that soaked in every drop with eager anticipation.

Sonia and I realized the situation we were in and approached a group of security guards to figure out the best plan of action concerning the wheelchair. To our disappointment, we were informed that the festival was not really wheelchair accessible except for the path along one side of the field and it was obvious that the closer we got to the stage, the thicker the crowd got and the higher the risk of someone bumping into Gabby’s newly attached ankle. To save ourselves from a situation that could possibly involve Matt beating some poor kid who wasn’t watching where he was going with Gabby’s crutch, we decided to camp out near the dance tent underneath a tree that provided some much needed relief from the beating sun.

With our injured roommate provided for, Sonia and I set out to explore this incredible festival (or as we like to call it, Disneyland for adults). The first thing I noticed was the crowd. At most of the festivals I’ve been to, the general age group for people falls around 18 to 30, with the occasional families or older couples who still know how to have a good time. Here though, the crowd ranged from skateboarding teenagers out for a good time to heady (i.e. modern day hippie) families toting along toddlers and babies in slings, to older activists spreading their message of peace by promoting different speakers and organizations. There were your typical rave kids with fairy wings and out-there sunglasses. There were older women in tye-dyed dresses spinning hula-hoops with the greatest ease among a few stilt-walkers who towered over the scene. There were people of all different age groups with some of the most beautiful tattoos and dreadlocks I’ve ever seen wearing the standard uniform of the modern hippie: long skirts, bikini tops, organic cotton t-shirts and of course, stunning jewelry.

As we got closer to the stage, the smell wafting in from the food stalls overtook us and the cut-up mangoes waiting for us under our tree didn’t seem like they’d be enough. The lines were moving pretty fast so I hopped into one while Sonia waited in another. As with any festival, the food is usually delicious but comes at a hefty price. We found each other and headed back to Gabby and Matt stocked up with fresh-cut fries, a chicken gyro dripping with tzatzki and three Thai BBQ chicken kebobs smothered in peanut sauce on a bed of yellow rice ($38.25 later). One major disappointment: the vendor stalls were not allowed to sell beverages, not even water, and the lines for the two beverage tents seemed endless. Lucky for us, we had each packed a large Nalgene with water and were able to avoid that stress.

Sitting on our blanket, we took in the sites around us and were amazed at the variety of people and general atmosphere of the festival. Unfortunately, at most music festivals, there is a large drug presence but we were surprised to see that the majority of the people here seemed sober and out for the music and the messages being spread (if you don’t include a certain herb whose aroma drifted heavily among the crowd). The people that came to this festival were there because they believed in the power of peaceful activism, the power of community and that we as a society have a genuine responsibility for the future of politics and policies. The music being played was interlaced with messages of being proactive towards violence on the street or encouraging audience members to take a stand against racism. A heavy emphasis was placed on the upcoming election while criticizing the current administration. Volunteers moved among the throngs of people with clipboards asking people if they had registered to vote and a giant billboard made to look like the 9/11 Commission Report plagued with holes stood in the middle of the field.

While I never made it up the main stage, the music that blasted through the trees was enough. Ziggy Marley sang some of his father’s greatest anthems and had the whole crowd singing along. I could hear Michael Franti and Spearhead pump up the crowd but the idea of pushing my way through at least 50,000 people seemed a bit daunting, so I stayed near the dance tent and was impressed by the Middle Eastern electro beats coming from DJ Cheb I Sabbah that ended with an acid-infused remix of “Rock the Casbah.” We spent the later part of the afternoon hula hooping to the music and attempting new tricks (we have the bruises to prove it); even Gabby swirled the hoop over her head as she sat in the wheelchair.

What can I say? San Francisco, you have really impressed me with the quality of the music festivals I’ve seen so far. Nothing gets better than a day of sunshine, free music, good food and a healthy dose of social activism.