Like crystals, the early morning dew glistened on the grass as the sun hung above the clouds in Sunrise Avenue. The carnival’s gates opened for the final day. Workers scurried about arranging tables and chairs together. Men and women set up their stalls, as the first wave of people began filtering in.

It was the final day of Brother Boswell’s carnival and he had to make a lasting impression. The scorching heat that came with the carnival’s arrival continued. You see, the small town of Sunrise Avenue had relished the idea of hosting such an esteemed carnival. And finaly, it had arrived.

Months before, parrots and pigeons were seen swarming the town’s streets, and when they disappeared, posters were hung on every lamp post. No one thought this was odd. The town was a quiet one, and had been sombre and needed something to lift up their spirits. And with the announcement of Brother Boswell’s carnival, they had something good to look forward to.

Brother Boswell’s carnival had a reputation of being one of the biggest carnivals ever to come out of the city. It was hailed as one of the next carnivals to compete with Durban’s mini-town and other major carnivals across the country.

It was rumoured that Brother Boswell had worked tirelessly at circuses and carnivals within the country, when he stumbled upon a chest filled with gold buried under a circus lion’s den, made away with the loot and decided to start his own carnival. However, the truth is that he did work tirelessly, not at a circus or carnival, but worked as a crew member aboard a cargo ship that sailed across the seven seas.

While other seamen drank their days away and sang sad sailors’ songs that reminded them of home, after their shifts had ended, Brother Boswell would read the “good lord’s word” and preach about the “good lord”.

He would preach day and night, before and after each shift, about how the “good lord” had given him this “good job” so he could feed his ailing family of ten. From then on the sailors decided to call him Brother Boswell as a joke, however the name stuck with him.

One day, when he was tightening bolts on the ship’s floor, a spanner the size of a tent pole, left by one of the workers on a ladder, fell on him and broke his leg. He was forced into early retirement, and received some compensation.

Brother Boswell, being a firm believer in the gospel, saw it as the “good lord’s” sign. The hand of Providence, as he so believed, had led him to start a carnival, which he has been running for the past twenty-five years.

In Sunrise Avenue there was this enigmatic energy in the atmosphere. For months, prior to the arrival of the carnival, children begged their parents for tickets to see the long awaited carnival. Others bargained with their parents that they would do their chores and earn tickets as remuneration. While others traded their sweets and treats with their friends for tickets. And funny enough even parents looked forward to the carnival and snatched up as many tickets as they could get their hands on.

Finaly, there was something positive they could chatter about amongst themselves when they met on the road and at the dinner table.