Night of the Stars

Minnarisai Rinnayasana here. Firstly, after that ridiculous play festival, I had a good Christmas celebration. Presents (mine's a purple sweater and a book full of Fun Facts Around the World), Mr. Reyes/Ríso (our equivalent of St. Nicholas in a red and black zoot suit and a car on the streets), and snow games like snowball fights and tobogganing; all this makes it a fun Christmas, Bigton style!

Then there's the New Year, when we have a public countdown on TV, and we burn wooden effigies of clocks on the street.

And lastly, there's the Night of the Stars, on the day after New Year's Day.

In Rinnarit tradition, this was one of several dates for the old Rinnarit New Year, before our ancestors migrated south away from oppression in the North. This was the day the Rinnarits honor the constellations and stars in the sky that they used to worship.

Paivonkiari (The Plough of Spring, my birth constellation); Hyakionvionno (The Golden Swan); Onolinthilari (The Thistle of Sapphire); Deikásásori (The Sleigh of Winter) and Haudanoreti (The Red Torch): you name 'em.

Ever since I was 11, I had to attend the Star Parade, every year without fail: the most important festival of the occasion, usually held at night. On the front are the Star-Bearers, able-bodied men, women, boys, and girls who carry poles with 8-pointed star-tips, representing either a specific star or a constellation. Behind are the various New Year floats, packed with dancers playing and dancing around, having a good time. And behind are the hundreds or thousands of dancers, of various kinds on genres, extending the whole Parade to about two hours of boredom or hilarity, whatever that is your pick.

This year, I'm 16 years' old. And thankfully, I'm a Star-Bearer. Not some fancy alien princess on a pink horse!




So here's my own account of this Day of the Stars for this year:

At 6 p. m. , my mom called me and my friends out for dinner. I and my siblings left our bedroom after an awesome round of video-games. After our dinner, my mother made us dress in fancy costumes, one by one, secretly in our bedroom. They look like silver-white kimonos, with something like a huge triangle draped on a boy's shoulders, or some kind of poncho for girls. For deterrence against the freezing January cold, the costumes have an additional inner layer of wool, also colored in a glittering silvery-white.

After that, we were driven to my school. We rehearsed for 15 minutes, before following this year's Star-Bearer team to the train station. Our parents followed in another train-cab nearby ours. Under heavy guard, my team was taken to the empty National Theater, where we were given our Star-Poles. Each Pole is about the height of a cupboard, again with a plate-sized 8-pointed star crowning its top, ribbons streaming from the Star, and occasional Stars decking the upper Pole, ranging from seven to nine of them. The Poles are to be flung, swung, and thrust around as if they were weapons, but in a rhythmic manner.

We were then taken to a huge hall, filled with Parade floats and their respective actors. After a huge door to the streets was opened, the team could hear a growing round of applause from the people watching us on the Parade. Stalls were set up almost everywhere around the road, sometimes even inside existing shops and offices, selling from biscuits to fish-ball rolls, from flutes and drums to language manuals and newspapers. Now the Parade shall begin!

As soon as the taikos behind us steadily boomed, commanding us to get ready, we slowly danced, our moves punctuated by the sticks and the drum-beats. We banged our Poles on the asphalt, and marched like soldiers, pointing our Poles upright to the sky. The flutes called us into action; we had to start dancing. We stamped on the ground, we jumped in somersaults up and down, we swung our Poles around and around, stopping and marching with the sticks' claps.

Then, as we approached a traffic light; flashing green, it allowing us to go (even though the nearby roads are closed to non-Parade traffic). As we passed through, other Floats joined us and the First Float (the one with musicians pounding and wheedling furiously). Not all of the  but they were also playing other kinds of music, from Western and classical tracks, to even techno. Some had images of trees; others had models of famous buildings on Terra and Earth, filled with "gentlemen" and "ladies" dancing and waving and greeting at passersby and the viewers; and some had images from national and popular folklore. Behind us, and from the sixteenth and last Float of them all, the fan-dancers rushed to the street. A gong signaled the arrival of the Second Float earlier; one with sculptures of the Southern Sea, and denizens of the water and sailors of nearby nationalities.

Yet sometimes, the crowd is not always nice: some people even tried to burst into and attack the parade for its "destruction of positive values, merrymaking, and frivolous counterproductiveness", and "wastage of money".

"You'll wish the government better stop wasting money on this junk; war's looming ahead, so why not go take up the conscription?"

"Carnivals are not good for a nation's vigilance: the enemy can strike anytime, out of nowhere!"

"Away with the Night of the Stars!"

"Bigton for the Bigtonians!"

Chuh. Conscription. Yet again, one of them may be right all along: what if the North's armies poured past the War Fence? [a powerful, mighty wall set up to deter Northern forces from charging into Bigton's borders]

Anyways, back to the Parade. There's the fabled Great Station, or the "New Crystal Palace", the main railway station of the capital; now it's decorated with yellow and black banners and balloons, and filled with people partying around with some costumed dancers, and of course, stalls-people selling sparkling goods and tantalizing, sizzling food -- but, then again, Star-Bearers can't buy food or drink or anything during the Parade. There's Hotelle Novembre, the spot for all sorts of spy dramas on TV: Dr. Dremo; Mr. Mango; all sorts of interesting TV serials set in this actual hotel. Oh, and some costumed "spies" gave me a balloon, before Teacher Dreyfus swiftly popped it with his Pole. "Star-Bearers accept no gifts!" he barked. Sigh. When can he stop his party-gate-crashing, anyway?

As I've told you, two hours had passed. One person in each Float raised and waved a small red and yellow flag, and the music pulled into a shrill yet harmonious climax. The Floats, Actors, and Dancers returned to their respective Halls. We returned home, spending the later hours of the night watching other parades in other major cities in the country. Moreover, some people in the country are currently receiving free broadcasts from the North, of Parades bigger and grander, and more spectacular yet solemn, than all that we have here in The Republic of Bigton.