a village festival
The other day we went to a festival celebrating the mandarins of the Mac Dynasty from 12th century. Every village has their own personal deities which they prostrate to. Our appearance at this remote village surprised and delighted the people there and they showered us with gifts and attention. Every step we took we were shadowed by 15 children. Every spot we stopped in we were immediately surrounded by 35-40 people. Some were interested in practicing English. Others merely wanted to gawk. Old women preparing to perform, wearing make-up, heavy and gaudy, posed for photos in their flashy attire. Some people snapped their fingers in my face and one man ferociously and forcefully patted me on the back 2 consecutive times, yet with a pleasant grin on his face the entire time. One girl, about 16-years-old, approached and said hello. I responded by asking her how she was doing. She was so nervous and shy that it took her 3 minutes before she could quell her fit of laughing in order to reply. Then, after she finally forced out her "I am fine" she immediately followed with another more raucous fit of giggling which shook her entire body.
There were all sorts of games and entertainment. Human Chinese chess. Wrestling. Make-shift carousels. There was food, there was drink, and toys. And they trekked across the muddy ground, in their plastic sandals, exposing filthy toes. And they laughed and they enjoyed their games. And they prayed before the altar, lighting incense and bowing three times. Wishing for good health and good fortune.
There were all sorts of games and entertainment. Human Chinese chess. Wrestling. Make-shift carousels. There was food, there was drink, and toys. And they trekked across the muddy ground, in their plastic sandals, exposing filthy toes. And they laughed and they enjoyed their games. And they prayed before the altar, lighting incense and bowing three times. Wishing for good health and good fortune.