What: Koksilah Music Festival
Where: Providence Farm, 1843 Tzouhalem Rd., Duncan
When: Friday through Sunday
Tickets: $31.50-$57.75 (daily) or $95 (weekend pass) from koksilahfestival.tickit.ca
The third annual Koksilah Music Festival is looking to make a deep impact on the Cowichan Valley by spreading knowledge about the area’s past, present and future.
A completely volunteer-run festival, Koksilah — pronounced hoh-se-la — is a three-day celebration of Indigenous culture, with the long-term hope that its people will one day assert sovereignty over their ancestral territories.
It’s being held on unceded Quw’utsun territory (Duncan) at Tuwe’nu (Providence Farm), near the base of Pi’Paam’ (Mt. Tzouhalem) by Tl’upalus (Cowichan Bay) — the perfect backdrop for a festival of this kind, said Koksilah director Rea Fenger.
“We wanted to have an event that celebrates Indigenous artists, people of colour and queer musicians, and puts them at the forefront of our lineup. We have workshops throughout the day that delve deeper. What does decolonization look like in 2019? It’s a buzz word on CBC, but what are the nitty-gritty aspects? What does it mean to be a settler in this day and age?”
Organizers are attempting to both educate and entertain, and have made the decision to eschew alcohol sales in favour of celebrating the wide variety of gender identities and nationalities on stage and social-change topics discussed during the festival’s many workshops. A dry camping-friendly festival will carry less appeal for some, but the impetus behind Koksilah was never to make money off beer sales, Fenger said.
That mandate is stronger than ever heading into Koksilah’s third edition. “We don’t want the crowds that follow some of the younger festivals. As an organizer, that makes it really nice to not have to deal with those things. It’s family-friendly. A pretty wholesome demographic.”
Fenger and her fellow directors work year-round with Quw’utsun elders and community leaders to ensure the gathering is respectfully staged — especially where recurring themes of reconciliation and decolonization are concerned. Proper protocol is of the utmost importance, Fenger said. “We want to make sure Quw’utsun people are invited and represented. We get to breathe a little deeper when we hear an elder say: ‘Koksilah was good. People are doing good work.’ That feels really nice.”
The festival received a grant this year that enabled organizers to hire on contract a Quw’utsun member who could help with outreach. Her input was key, Fenger said. Quw’utsun members are invited to attend Koksilah free of charge, while members of other Indigenous communities are welcomed on a sliding scale.
“The general makeup of our audience seems to be folks who want to come and learn about other cultures. They get to hear some music and go to some good workshops. School has just started, so a lot of folks have the mentality where they want to learn some things.
“With our workshops, and the type of knowledge transfer that goes on at the festival, if the festival was bigger, those opportunities and experiences wouldn’t happen as organically.
“Once you reach a certain size of festival, it does just become about getting from stage A to B to C. At smaller festivals, there’s a little more meandering.”
Attendance increased steadily over the first two editions. Koksilah is on target to have 500 people on site each day this weekend, which is a success in Fenger’s books.
Headliners include Ms. Pan!k, a Haida artist based in Vancouver; Missy D, a rapper of Zimbabwe descent; Curtis Clearsky and the Constellationz, an eight-piece Indigenous reggae-funk band from Vancouver; and Piqsiq from Yellowknife, which expands on the foundation of traditional Inuit throat singing.
“When you think of a musical festival, it’s often about the [touring] artists. But a lot of ours don’t have name recognition. There’s diversity in our lineup, which is almost all either Indigenous, people of colour or queer. That feels nice to be putting on a show like that.”
One of Fenger’s responsibilities at the festival is organizing the many volunteers. It’s a rewarding task that never fails to remind her of the impact Koksilah has on its surrounding community.
The volunteer feedback always “makes me tear up,” Fenger said.
“They come back every year a changed person. It is things like that which make me feel like we’re on a good path. If you can dance and sing and also cry all in one day, I think that means we’ve done a really good job.”
