Laura Hartman

 

Life with the Egelloc People

           

            In my time as one of the Egelloc people, I saw and experienced many rituals and ceremonies that are staples of their culture.  Last week, I got to experience a cultural celebration for the first time.  The Pyad celebration is a purification ritual that takes place before the commencement of the spring equinox.  It is a celebration of a successful survival of the cold months of autumn and winter, and of moving on to a new future.

 

            I had expected to encounter excitement and festivities on the morning of Pyad, but I was surprised when I awoke at 7 a.m. to the clash of metal upon metal as they broke open the drums containing the food of their gods.  It is not in the nature of the Egelloc people to be awake and sociable before 10 a.m. and I found quite a surprise to hear the celebration in full-swing outside the windows of my living quarters.

 

            After dressing myself in simple a tank top and jeans, I walked to the village to meet my contact.  When I arrived, I noticed immediately that there were several clans intermingling, distinguishable by their garments that boasted each clan's individual crest, colors and creed.  Some wore pink, some wore blue or green, and others had dyed their clothing with swirls of colors.  The clan in charge boasted black shirts, asserting their authority by appearing formal and demonstrating their ability to withstand the extra heat of the sun on the dark material.  They were the most calm, and the most avoided by other clans except when direct contact was absolutely necessary.  It was obvious that I was out of place, as I didn't belong to a clan or possess one of their uniforms. 

 

            My host, however, made me feel comfortable and offered me a beverage as a peace offering.  I was then introduced to the other members of her clan, who agreed to perform the initiation rites.  The music of their tribe could be heard by the window and, upon asking me about my preferences for flavor, the clan members began mixing a ceremonial brew, which they handed to me in an over-sized red cup.  The next half-hour was spent socializing and getting to know my new clan until my red cup was empty.  I was then ushered to the altar, where one of the men poured everyone a small glass of pungent amber liquid.  The size of the glass indicated that it was meant to be consumed in one mouthful, and each person had their own distinctive glass.  A member of the clan was kind enough to let me borrow one of theirs, and we all raised them up in a ceremonial toast.

            I watched everyone tilt their head back and down their beverages and I thought, “When in Rome...”  I tipped my head back to drink it in...and very nearly spit it back out.  Initially, it tasted very sweet—like syrup that you might use to make candy with.  Then suddenly it burned so badly it made my eyes water.  Holding in my surprise, I forced the burning liquid down my throat and coughed.  The looks on the clan members' faces indicated that they too felt the burning sensation and were equally disgusted by it as I was.  Why then, do they practice such a painful ritual?  I suppose it is one of the sacrifices deemed necessary to pacify the gods for a day of merriment.

            Before leaving to attend the festival, one of the clan members held up a shiny little box that we all blessed with a sign of happiness and thanksgiving.  Once the blessing was over, we went out into the field at the center of the village to partake in food and participate in feats of strength and agility.  Men who are usually seen as warriors, intellectuals or great leaders cast aside their formality and outward male dominance to focus their attention on the competition.  Females who are normally more mature and less athletic also managed to let their hair down and participate in the fun of simplistic physical challenges.

            Not one to back down from a challenge, I also competed in the games.  I dove, climbed, and slid my way through the obstacle course, braved the harrowing heights of the cliff face, and scored some goals in the “Defender Dome” (a padded caged arena with four nets, for goal hoops, and seven balls to score with.  All the while, I was fighting an internal battle against the after-effects of my initiation.  It was like I had been up all night reading, and I was so tired that my eyes didn't want to focus on the words anymore, but I wasn't ready to go to bed yet.  People all around me were stumbling and boisterously slurring their words, so I didn't feel quite as bad. 

            I decided it I wasn't going to be taking part in any more rituals until I made my way over to the feeding area for some food.  I approached the food hut and was immediately given a set of wooden chips, which I later discovered were a type of currency.  Vendors from distant lands outside the village hawked a variety of spicy, greasy foods to swarms of starving festival participants.  With minimal words I was able to trade my sparse few tokens for a meat and cheese pie and a chocolate filled pancake.  As I sat down to eat, I felt my senses return.  My surrogate tribe sat down around me, and I realized that my initiation was complete.