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FINDING PRESENCE & COMMUNITY IN THE PORTUGUESE COUNTRYSIDE
FINDING PRESENCE & COMMUNITY IN THE PORTUGUESE COUNTRYSIDE
HIM Dub is a festival of presence, community, and connection. From the Portuguese countryside to its rivers and sound systems, the event blends dub, reggae, and workshops with immersive experiences to create a space where visitors can truly slow down and engage with life.
Nestled in the small village of Rapoula do Côa, HIM Dub is a festival that lingers long after it comes to an end. People talk about ‘festival blues’, but rarely about the quiet contentment that comes from a festival’s duration and the impact it leaves on us.
For first-time visitors from Bristol, it was a journey into the unknown. Beyond the sound systems and stages, the festival offered moments of reflection, creativity, and connection – from hammocks by the river to workshops in leather journaling and sustainable crafts. Also bearing in mind, this is all set against the backdrop of a climate-conscious, welcoming festival.
First Impressions
HIM Dub was a beautiful time. As we left the festival, I turned one last time to take it all in: the pink and blue sky falling over the eucalyptus trees, stone walls, and the wooden HIM Dub entrance sign. I reflected on how the festival taught me presence and acceptance away from the business of everyday life.
Coming to HIM Dub was a pilgrimage from Bristol. We met a fellow Bristolian in the town of Guarda near the festival and managed to get lifts from friends already there. We arrived and our band of friends was assembled. The first thing that stood out was how welcoming everyone was. Receiving our wristbands from smiley, happy people who, aside from warmth, gave us natural soap, toothpaste, and carrot seeds to take home. It was clear this crowd cares.
Village Life and the Market
Located in a small village in the Portuguese countryside, the locals were happy the festival was happening. Each day, they would come down to the square in the centre of the festival to eat, swim, and talk. My Portuguese was limited, but a nod or smile expressed gratitude. The bells from the nearby church ringing every hour felt nostalgic – a gentle reminder of the countryside, far away from the city.
The festival market was lined with makers of scarves, hand-printed hoodies, and a jeweller crafting metal pieces imprinted with leaves. He told me that Rapoula do Côa had been close to being destroyed by a wildfire a week before the festival.
We saw the burnt woodland on the drive there. Organisers, sellers, and locals didn’t know whether the site would survive. Everything the organisers had worked for over the past three years had almost been reduced to nothing.
A BBC headline during the festival read ‘Spain and Portugal wildfires drive worst EU season on record’. Amid this, HIM Dub remained climate-conscious, with a small carbon footprint, support for local farmers, and workshops using natural materials for soap making, leather journals, and weaving.
Music and the Dance
It was a blessing to wake up in a hammock by the river and go for a swim, to be part of nature, to dip in and out of dance, workshops, and talks. It felt natural to take time to write, draw, and take photos during the festival. The illustrations in this article are by Isabella Rosa Griffiths.
For someone with only a handful of experiences of dub and reggae in Bristol, this was a journey into sweet dub music and Rastafarian culture. I was enlightened by the variety of seasoned selectors and future dub from Glasgow, and by MCs energising the crowd.
On Wednesday night we danced to Don Fe playing the flute over his selections. An Dannsa Dub opened the Dub Temple on Thursday, going from an empty dance floor to limbs and dust flying everywhere in unison, Scottish-influenced violin, flute, and singing blending into folk-infused electronic power.
Legendary producer Gussie P, active since the ’80s, delivered a set that felt like a lesson in peace, love, and unity. Lyrics like ‘Get up and fight for your right, my brothers; get up and fight for your right, my sisters’ stuck with me. The choice to dance was yours; if I didn’t quite feel present in the moment, I could step away to one of the many peaceful spots, like by the river.
Running through the sand, listening to Hitman and Fiza at the river station, the sun out, river flowing, tunes rumbling through their sound system, I noticed how the three stages each had their own character.
Hitman and Fiza had built and tuned their system to sound muddy – rooted into the ground and the air. Sometimes I get caught up in listening to clean audio, but this took me to a different, exciting level of quality. The MC was killing it, and the warm, unfiltered bass had everyone on their feet.
Camping, Community, and Workshops
Camping areas were integrated with the landscape, giving everyone space to claim their own spot. Every area had quirks: overhanging trees for hammocks, walled sections for crews.
One of my favourite aspects was the community kitchen; we cooked, shared meals, wine, and conversation with other festival-goers. Cooking and eating together became a ritual. The food vendors were excellent, with favourites being the Quesadillas and Ital soup from the Rastafarian Cultural Yard.
For me, the festival was a journey of self-discovery. Dancing, group meals, sunshine, workshops, community, music, and artwork all combined. My partner and I made a leather journal in a workshop run by Raquel Cavalerio, using offcuts and hand tools to create a book entirely our own.
When you step into the dance with presence and love, you become free: one leg after another, a hand, a smile at a stranger, a hug, swinging arm in arm, side by side. The week ended, and as we drove off, we watched in awe as the red and blue sky set over the festival, leaving HIM Dub with us long after it finished.
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