If, in the evenings, you walk on Homestretch Avenue and you pass the National Cultural Centre between 5 PM and 9 PM, there is a chance that you might see and hear things that, at least momentarily, startle you into a state of sudden pause. You might hear a scream, ringing strong and true into the black night as it echoes from some hidden chamber in the top of the building. Should you choose to enter the National Cultural Centre, you will be able to see and hear much, much more.

You might see, high on the high and imposing balcony jutting out from the building, a young woman bound in ropes or flying wild and free with her arrows and bow clutched tightly in her hands. You might see a young woman terrorized by memories and a mannequin. You might see three friends opening an ancient bottle and unleashing hell upon themselves. You might see god and the devil, and their child, women being struck to the ground, dancers shedding their clothes, and lovers kissing passionately. You might see things you have never seen before. You might feel the tremble of the drum as the music pounds deep inside you. You might cry at the songs being sung. And when you wander around the Cultural Centre, with your hands trailing on the walls and

your feet leading you into the heart of the building, you will see more and more of them – actors, directors, singer, dancers, stage managers and writers, many of whom have emerged from the National School of Theatre Arts and Drama – all gearing up for the single greatest theatrical event of the year: National Drama Festival 2016.

If, in the evenings, in the first two weeks of November, you are to pass the National Cultural Centre once more, you are sure to see a steady stream of people trickling in and out of the building. The Ministry of Education logo and Digicel sigils will be plastered all over. As you find a seat in the audience and as you wait in the darkness for the curtains to rise, you will think about the rehearsals you saw, and then, as the anthem ends and the show begins and the colours explode on to the stage, the rehearsals, like a black and white film, will fade into the background of your mind as you witness the full colour beauty of the live plays.

You will laugh at the comic and cry at the tragic. You will marvel at actors who are fused together for much of the play, at how walls are made of cloth, at how people build their set out of items they lift from the wings, at the costumes that are ripples of colour across the stage, at how reality is manifested and manipulated before your unbelieving eyes even as you choose to believe, in what you see and you feel in your heart.

Perhaps, you will be there on one of the nights during the week of Preliminaries, from the 7th to the 14th of November, and you will see one of the many good plays that do not make it into the Finals. But that is the beauty of the competition. It is a fierce fight between the competitors, and yet it remains wholly, solely, about theatre, about art. Perhaps the play you see will be one of the 17 plays in the Schools category, one of the 12 in the Debutante category, one of the 7 in the Junior category, or one of the 18 in the Open categories. There is a wide range to choose from, each unique and special and indicative of the new wave of theatre that is rippling across the country.