A CELEBRATION YOU FEEL IN YOUR CHEST
The first thing you notice about São Tomé Carnival is the sound. It starts as a distant beat somewhere in the city, and before you realize it, the drums are everywhere — bouncing off the walls, rolling down the streets, and pulling people out of their homes. The whole place wakes up. Families drag chairs outside, kids paint their faces, and neighbours gather as if they’ve been waiting all year for that exact moment. Bright costumes fill the streets, some funny, some traditional, some so detailed you have to stop and admire how much work went into them.
What makes it special isn’t just the parade but the feeling behind it. You can tell this celebration carries stories — old ones passed down through families, mixed with new ideas each generation adds. You see masquerades that reflect island history, dances that echo African roots, and performances that people clearly take pride in. It doesn’t feel forced or rehearsed; it feels lived. You can sense that Carnival has grown with the people, shaped by their humour, struggles, and joy. Even if it’s your first time there, you feel like you’re watching something that belongs deeply to the island.
Moros (Moors) prepare for their performance at the Auto de Floripes. Image credit: Paul Bloomfield
As the day goes on, the energy shifts from exciting to almost overwhelming in the best way. Strangers dance together, music never stops, and food vendors weave through the crowd with snacks you can smell before you see. Everyone is laughing about something — a joke in a costume, a dance move gone wrong, a child showing off their tiny mask. It’s the kind of celebration where you forget to check the time. By the end of the night, you feel like you didn’t just watch Carnival — you lived inside it, even if just for a moment.