On the side of one of the mountains that encircle and overlook the valley that is Grahamstown, is a very large - a mammoth - photocopying machine, or so it looks. It's an architectural monstrosity known as the 1820 Settlers Monument - a huge building that was constructed in the 1970s; and it shows. Square. From the two pointless mast-like structures protruding from its roof, you get a weak hint that its architect meant for the building to symbolise a sailing ship - to be an ode to the settler spirit that crossed oceans to tame this wild land - now forever imposed upon and embedded in the the landscape. Unfortunately the building is far from poetic, and fits into its quasi-rural environment about as well as an old banker in grey shoes and a polyester suit at a hippie tee-pee encampment. 

But while our mountain monolith's form is a tad misguided - a pragmatic manifestation of the colonial imposition it was only meant to symbilize - its current function thankfully is a noble one - to be the administrative and logistical hub of the series of festival's that fall under the ambit of the Grahamstown Foundation - ArtsFest, SciFest, SchoolsFest plus plus. It also houses a 1000-seater auditorium, smaller theatres, arts galleries, a restaurant, the festival box office and coffee shops - now all brimming with festival activity morning, noon and night.

Yesterday was a tough day for all in the minolta-bowels where the Arts Festival offices are. The unceasing rains of the previous day meant that the Village Green - the festival's legendary flea market - had to close down for the first time in thirty-something years of Arts Festivals because of flooding,with major powercuts all over town as well. Shows postponed, cancelled, interrupted - the full mayhem - for a while. Today everything, including the Village Green, is back to normal. The festival's mid-point day took its role as watershed just a bit too literally it seems.

Ultimately, it was nothing more than just one of those days. And on days like those at festival, crazy stuff starts to happen. For Steve Newman, Greg Georgiades and Ashish Joshi, their performance as the group "In the Clouds" took on a magical nature yesterday, with the power failure elinimating their amps and finally allowing them to give the totally acoustic festival performance they've wanted to host for years. For one of the festival's media coordinators, it meant forgetting her car lights on in the morning, and a fabulous adventure of car pushing, jumper leads and the experience of strangers' kindness for her and I, as the sun set behind the monument, the wind buffeted us and the lights of Gtown twinkled below. We got the car started thanks to the help of festinos we may or may not ever see again. And experiences such as these - chance brushings with kindness and the turning of strife into victory - are as inherent to ArtsFest as outstanding performance!  

Festinos are to ArtsFest what fashionistas are to Fashion Week. Except ours dress purely for winter warmth. And thousands converge on the monument every sunset for the Sundowner Show - a daily hourlong snippet showcase of myriads of festival offerings - providing free entertainment for the public, while at the same time allowing those being showcased to entice festinos to come and see their full shows.

Indeed, for festinos all over town right now, the literal dampening of yesterday's mood has lifted, a sense of urgency is starting to build and the sprint to Sunday's festival finish is now going to pick up pace daily. All the new shows that run from today to the end are now in town. And I used the wet day to sit down and plot at least part of the rest of my week. From tomorrow you'll hear about dance, drama, ThinkFest, street theatre and art before the week is over. I've booked a whole lot. Finally. For now, it's time to go pack gear for this afternoon's SunshiP performance of our quiet numbers at the Arts Lounge - which will be fun given that we don't often get to publically perform many of them in our late-night party gigs where the dance tracks dominate. 

For now, watershed done and onward we charge!  Ours not to reason why - Ours to entertain and fly.