It’s August 15, and the descendants of Acadia are eager to make some noise. When the church bells toll 6 p.m., tens of thousands of people erupt onto the streets of Caraquet dressed in costumes, making a right French-Canadian racket with whatever they can get their hands on: drums, bells, horns, buckets, whistles, voices. The annual tintamarre (literally, “clangour”) tradition in Caraquet is remarkable for a number of reasons. First, the population of this seaside town is just over 4,000 — so where did the other 34,000 people come from? Second, the tradition of celebrating Acadian culture and history with tintamarre only dates back to 1979. By the enthusiasm on display, one would think it was part of the 300-year-old Acadian heritage. Third, it’s just about the most fun you can have in New Brunswick, with or without the face paint.
The story of Acadia, with its origins in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French settlement in the Maritimes, is a tumultuous one. Wars, displacement, deportation, and cultural invasion — it’s a wonder any culture has survived at all. In 1955, the Catholic Church organized a celebration in Moncton to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the Acadian Deportation, when conquering British armies dispersed the population. The racket that ensued left a lasting impression, although it wasn’t until 1979 that tintamarre resurfaced as a massive street festival in the town of Caraquet. The town already boasts an Acadian historical village (the Village Historique Acadien) and Acadian summer festival, so it was the perfect place to celebrate the 375th anniversary of Acadia’s founding. Acadia, I should point out, was a part of New France that included much of the Maritimes and parts of Maine. Acadians who resettled in Louisiana became known as Cajuns.
Back to 1979: everyone in Caraquet was invited to participate in the parade, embrace the tricolour Acadian flag, and delight in a doozy of decibels. Although it was supposed to be a one-off event, a year later, folks emerged from their houses with pots, pans, barrels, and sticks. Soon after, costumes and face paint had been added, and visitors were flocking in from all over the province. Community leaders were already talking about holding a “traditional” tintamarre, despite the fact the tradition had barely begun to exist. Today, tintamarre has evolved into a vital expression of Acadian history, culture, and pride. It has spread to other Acadian communities in New Brunswick and to parts of Quebec as a symbol of Acadian identity.
But wait a second, Robin. We’re not Acadian, so why should we care?
I’ll explain as I paint your face in red, white, and blue, with a golden star around your right eye.
For a start, where else can you make more noise than the kids and be admired for it? Embracing the festival’s joie de vivre is the kind of fun few should turn down. Unlike Fat Tuesday, this carnival makes an effort to include tourists and visitors, adding everyone into the mix, inviting participation and even home invasions. Tintamarre is the climax of the two-week-long Acadian Festival, featuring hundreds of music concerts, step-dancing, art, competitions, and food. Feast on traditional Acadian fare such as fricot à la poule, clam pie, and pulled molasses taffy. If you’re historically inclined, 80 percent of the buildings in the historical Acadian village are from the 1770s to the 1890s, relocated to the village for an authentic material reference to history.
But it’s the atmosphere and the smiley side of chaos that have made tintamarre one of the biggest festivals in the Atlantic provinces. Besides the party, tintamarre is an opportunity to understand and appreciate a vital cultural element that makes Canada Canada, and not, say, Australia with snow. Make some noise, together with the descendants of the Acadians: “We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere!”
START HERE: canadianbucketlist.com/tintamarre