Saturday 26 May 2012

FIREWORKS:



I hate funfairs, ferias, fiesta, flamenco, fandango, & yes, FIREWORKS. I am considered a party-pooper, agua-fiestas, a damp squibb, by friends & family, & you know what? I do not b....y well care. So I am going into the Kalahari desert of my childhood tonight to celebrate the 5th of November. It is sunset, the shadows are growing over the scrubby bush casting purple swathes over the desert. Meerkats peep, ever curious at our passing, hyenas slink, not daring, giraffes look down on us with distain, & we plod on until we get to our destination, a Bushman camp. By the time we arrive sunset has handed over her baton to the silky black night, the stars, diamonds chips blinking & winking, the moon resplendent in her pregnancy, casting an eerie glow over her domain below. We are greeted by these ancient folk & join their circle around a scarlet fire that spits golden sparks & flames to the heavens tauntingly. The ancient bronze-skinned folk begin to chant & stamp with their hard old feet upon an even older, harder earth, stirring up dust that envelops us in an age -old embrace. The chanting gets louder, the Kalahari dust is stirred, the earth is converted into a million drums to convey our message to the mighty sky above us, to please send rain, Pula. When the heavens bow to receive our message, the chants soften, the stamping turns to a silent shuffling, the fire calms, silence reigns. We sit with our eyes trained on the sky where we see shooting stars dart across the firmament, Venus blinks at her subjects who shine & sparkle, & the moon smiles, as only a mother can. Around us we see hidden eyes in the surrounding bush. Fireflies & lions eyes, eyes of many beasts, of gold, red, & sharp green, ever watching, staying unseen. We hear the roars, snuffles, screams & grunts, of those hunted, & of those who hunt. A gourd is handed round for us to drink, & as I sip the wild honeyed tea of these wonderful folk, the heavens compete with the beasts in its roar, & our prayers answered, it begins to pour- Pula. Far better than a Fireworks display that resembles a Benidorm bazaar.

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