I miss hardcore shows.
I miss their spontaneity, the feeling of unity, and I miss being part of a dancing, sweating, hitting-each-other-but-picking-someone-up-if-they-fall mass of people. I miss the beat that is too loud and the lyrics that are too honest. I miss two-stepping, I miss the adrenaline, and I miss the soul and the vibe of it all.
Last night, I felt it again.
Don’t get me wrong, bearded men did not parachute to my small village with a stack of amps tied to their own smaller parachutes. Something even more magical happened. The moon was swollen by the Sun. The full moon first turned red, and then disappeared. There was a lunar eclipse, minimal light pollution, and it was beautiful.
The kids loved it.
According to local Dagban customs, the young 60% of the population under the age of 18 featured on Monday’s post is responsible for getting the moon back when the Sun decides to snack on it. Even without advanced notice, these young mediators take their job very seriously and get organized fast. Old plastic fuel containers are transformed into loud booming drums, and the kids transform themselves into a marching army. Everyone yells “Aiya compara” which translates to “The Sun should fear God, and release the moon.”
This is done with energy, while marching around the surrounding communities, during the whole few hours of the eclipse. I had the chance to join the action for a while. I clapped, I yelled, I danced, and even took some pictures (the flash was a hit!). Trust me; getting the moon back is wicked fun.
People everywhere love to be rowdy and be part of something bigger than their everyday life. Yesterday back in Canada people were yelling enthusiastically at men sliding on ice while we were doing the same, with much less infrastructure and equipment, in the direction of the moon. Who’s crazier? I don’t know.