Dancing the Gran Marcha with Grupo A'legria

Everybody on Curaçao has an opinion about Carnaval. Some people count down to it all year. Some people leave the island to escape it. I had only ever been a spectator, squeezed between coolers and folding chairs, waving at the groups as they passed. In 2025 I decided that this was the year I would be on the other side of the rope.

A friend of mine already danced with Grupo A'legria, and when I told her I wanted in, she sent me the sign-up details the same evening. I had no idea what I was getting into. Here is what it was really like.

1. Weeks before

   Signing up and choosing a section

   A big carnival group is not one crowd. It's split into sections, each with its own costume, colours and leader. You pick your section, pay your fee, and give your measurements. I chose a section that was all sparkle, feathers and bright colours, because if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.

   The registration evening already felt like a party. Music was playing, people were hugging old friends, and the group leaders were juggling lists, tape measures and a hundred questions about shoes.

2. Fittings

   The costume comes together

   The first fitting was mostly pins and promises. The second one was when it became real: the headpiece, the shining top, the belt that took two people to close. I learned quickly that a costume is a construction project. You check every strap, every clip and every sequin, because you will be dancing in it for hours under the Caribbean sun.

3. Rehearsals

   Learning to move like Carnaval

   Our group had evening rehearsals where we practised walking and dancing in formation to tumba and road-march music. The trick isn't the steps. It's the stamina. A road march is a slow, joyful, endless dance, and you need to keep smiling at kilometre five as much as at the first corner.

   The older members gave me the best advice: dance with your hips, not your feet, save your energy for the crowds, and drink water every single time someone offers it.

4. The week of

   Getting ready like an athlete

   • Broke in my shoes around the house every evening
   • Bought sunscreen, waterproof make-up and setting spray
   • Packed a small belt bag: ID, cash, lip balm, phone in a plastic sleeve
   • Tied a tiny blue nazar inside my costume belt for luck
   • Slept early. Mostly.
5. Gran Marcha morning

   Glitter at sunrise

   The day started early with make-up, hair and a lot of bobby pins. By the time we reached the meeting point, the street was already full: costumes everywhere, music trucks testing their speakers, families setting up tents and coolers along the route. The section leaders lined us up, checked our costumes one last time, and then the music started properly.

   The first beat hit my chest before I even heard it. That's when I understood why people wait all year.

6. On the road

   Willemstad, one step at a time

   Nothing prepares you for the noise of the crowd when your group comes around the corner. People cheered, sang along, danced on the sidewalk, and handed us water over the rope. I waved at strangers who waved back like we were old friends.

   Some stretches felt like flying. Others felt like walking through soup. We stopped, we danced in place, we started again. The music truck was our heartbeat, and as long as it played, we moved. Somewhere in the middle I stopped thinking about my feet and just danced.

7. The finish

   Tired, sunburnt and very happy

   By the time we reached the end of the route, my headpiece was crooked, my shoes were finished and my face hurt from smiling. We hugged, took a hundred photos, and promised each other we'd do it again next year.

   That night my feet were in a bucket of cold water and my phone was full of videos I'll be watching for years.

Danki, Grupo A'legria, for letting me dance with you. Kòrsou, see you next Carnaval.

— Aziza