Text 2812, 174 rader
Skriven 2005-10-11 17:54:13 av ceri@twmba.net
Ärende: The Butcher Dance
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From: "Rai" <ceri@twmba.net>
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The Butcher Dance

A guy has spent five years traveling all around the world making a
documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he has every single
native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up
in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into a pub for a well earned
beer. He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about
his project. 

The Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher Dance." 

The guy's a bit confused and says, "Butcher Dance? What's that?" 

"What? You no see Butcher Dance?" 

"No, I've never heard of it." 

"Oh mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see
Butcher Dance?" 

"UmmSUM. I got a corroboree on film just the other week. Is that what you
mean?" 

"No no, not corroboree. Butcher Dance much more important than corroboree." 

"Oh, well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?" 

"Mate, Butcher Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher 
Dance." 

"Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest
darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances.
Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance." 

"OK, mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive
197 miles, you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126
miles till you see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here
you gotta leave the car, because much too rough for driving. 

You strike out due west into setting sun. You walk 3 days till you hit
creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2 days you find where
creek flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to cross mountains
here though. You now head south for half day till you see pass through
mountains. 

Pass very difficult and very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to get through
rocky pass. When through, head northwest for 4 days till reach big huge
rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man's head. From rock, walk due west for
2 days and you find village. Here you see Butcher Dance." 

So the guy grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a
couple of hours he finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state
and he's forced to crawl along at a snails pace and so he doesn't reach the
tree until dusk and he's forced to set up camp for the night. 

He sets out bright and early the following morning. His spirits are high
and he's excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious
dance which he had never heard mention of before. 

True to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three
days and follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains.
The merciless sun is starting to take its toll by this time and his spirits
are starting to flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass
through the hills - nothing will prevent him from completing his life's 
dream. 

The mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and
at times they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But
after three and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force
their way clear and continue their long trek. 

When they reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low
and their feet are covered with blisters. Yet they steel themselves and
head out on the last leg of their journey. 

Two days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives
feed them and give them fresh water. They begin to feel like new men. 

Once he's recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells
him that he has come to film there Butcher Dance. 

"Oh mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late.
You miss dance." 

"Well, when do you hold the next dance?" 

"Not till next year." 

"Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for
me, tonight?" 

"No, no, no! Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more,
gods get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher Dance you
come back next year." 

The guy is devastated, but he has no other option but to head back to
civilization and back home. 

The following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss
out again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to
spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to
ensure he is present to witness it. However, right from the start things go
wrong. 

Heavy rains that year have turned the dirt track to mud and the car gets
bogged every few miles, finally forcing them to abandon their vehicles and
slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. 

They reach the creek and the mountains without any further hitch, but
halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck by a fierce
storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to cling
forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to
attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements. 

Then, before they have traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the
crew sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey
enormously, to the rock and then the village. 

Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they have been traveling,
they stagger into the village at about 12:00 noon. 

"The Butcher Dance!" gasps the guy. "Please don't tell me I'm too late!" 

The chief recognizes him and says "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed
tonight. You come just in time." 

Relieved beyond measure, the crew spends the rest of the afternoon setting
up their equipment - preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid
as dusk falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and
adorn themselves in all manner of bird's feathers and animal skins. 

Once darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle
around a huge roaring fire. 

A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened
old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters
the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or medicine man,
figures the guy and he whispers to the chief, "What's he doing?" 

"Hush," whispers the chief. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of
our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the
dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance
and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us
and protect us for another year." 

The chanting of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he moves
himself from the circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums
booms out across the land and the natives begin to sway to the stirring 
rhythm. 

The guy is becoming caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This is
it. He now realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He
is about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever
conceived by mankind. 

The chief strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming
voice, starts to sing, 

He says, "You butcher right arm in. You butcher right arm out. You butcher
right arm in and you shake it all about" 

 


Rai
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