So Friday afternoon, my landlord, who is also the assist project coordinator (her husband, my supervisor is the project coordinator. Don’t ask.) told me that the school for 7 – 13 year olds at Camphill (Rankoromane) was putting on a show where they were going to reenact St. Michael’s killing of a dragon. Well, no, they won’t kill a real dragon, she assured me. Do I look that gullible?
So members of Motse wa Badiri and Legodimo (the school for 14-17 year olds) wandered over there and sat ourselves down to wait for things to occur. All the kids from Rankoromane were already seated on one side of the compound, the Legodimo kids sat together and the MwB people sat on the remaining benches, moving them every which way so we could sit in whatever shade was left for us.
The teachers led the youngsters in various welcoming songs, a prayer and then told the story of St. Michael, which still is a mystery to me. There was a big bonfire waiting to be lit in the center of the compound. At some point some of the youth from Rankoromane and Legodimo went off and brought back a huge paper stuff rendering of a dragon that looked a lot like a giant alligator or lizard. It was painted nicely and had scaly looking things. They carried through the crowd while the kids sang a song. We were all supposed to touch it, so we did. Then they placed it on the top of the awaiting haystack styled pile of big branches. Part of the story that I didn’t understand had a place in it where we were all supposed to yell “FIRE” (in English) and point at the pile. This got a lot of laughs from my group of young women and was repeated throughout the rest of the event and random moments, followed by giggles.
A small fellow with the longest tie in Botswana came to douse the pile with gasoline. The tie style here is to wear them short, halfway up the dress shirt. His looked extra odd because of this, but in reality it was probably just three inches longer than how we wear them at home. He is clearly a trend setter. But still that tie, leaning into a soon to be lit bonfire by the tie’s wearer, was a bit…uh….But still he managed it and the tie remained unscathed.
The wind is blowing the ashes, some big flakes, in our direction. My friends kept trying to brush them off me, but I told them not to worry. We sat ducking the smoke and ash until the youngest got up with their teachers and danced once around the fire, singing a song, followed by the Legodimo contingent and lastly by Motse wa Badiri.
Then we sat some more and they started bringing out the food. Every event seems to have food, which is I am sure why a bunch of our group went over. They fed the kids first, then the youth from Legodimo, then those of us from Motse. It was a potentially perfect chili dog, except the bun wasn’t cut open, the beans weren’t spicy and the mustard and onions and dogs were all just piled on the plate. So really, it was just a meal. Knowing I didn’t have much at home to cook, or feel like cooking what I had, I went for it. Not sure how many years those two small dogs have taken off my life, but what the heck. It’s quality of life, right, not quantity? And this little gathering was quality, taken as a whole and minus the indigestion.
The next week, I got to walk up to various trainees, point at them and yell "FIRE" and get to see them laugh hysterically. That made us all happy and we have St. Michael and a dragon who didn't know he could just torch the saint to thank for that!
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