Sunday.
We woke up early in the morning (well, I did - many people seemed to have decided to sleep in), ready for the second day of Holnemvolt.
This time, Wayqui was the first performer; he brought us a full hour of Peruvian folktales that would have made most of the Folklore Department cry from pure joy. His authentic stories were beautiful and amazing, and at the same time, funny (the legend of the son of the rainbow; the tale of the little blue stones; the journey of the three animals). I had a great time translating for him.
Birgit brought us tales about luck and happyness; she was dressed all in red, and she was an elegant Lady Luck, a teenage Cleverness, Ali the Fortunate, and many other characters all at the same time. She sang some songs too, and they all made us feel lucky and happy.
Tone followed Birgit; she told us tales about the dangers of taking a bath. It started out funny and delightful; but as the stories went on, it touched upon some more serious issues as well (King David and Bathsheba; Susanna and the elders). It was a wonderful, wonderful program, and gave us a lot to think about.
Szende told her székely folktales again, with laughter and dancing and puppets and jokes; the audience participated willingly, and they all had a great time. Szende has the power to be a wise woman and a cute little girl at the same time. I wonder how she does it.
Angela was the last performer of the day; she had an amazing story about Baba Yaga going to New York. She told it with momentum, and magic, and song, and it was about twice as exciting as watching an action movie. It was one part Russian folklote, one part Night Watch, and one part Fables, all mixed into a story that made my mouth hang wide open. It was unbelievable.
After the big performances, we had some time left for a SWAP! Four people from the audience volunteered to tell. One of them was Jay Miller, who is an American storyteller currently living in Budapest (who would have thought?). He told us two stories with voice and pantomime, and audience participation, and everyone loved him. My friend Juli also told a Bulgarian folktale about the journey of the storks from Europe to Africa. I can't hear that story enough.
Because the festival took place in a Lutheran church, Sunday afternoon was time for a service. Instead of one, we decided to tell religious and spiritual stories; I think it was one of the best parts of the festival. Wayqui, for example, told a Perucian myth; Tone told us a tale about an elf building a church in Norway (and we could see her transform into an elf on the stage). Angela told her African folktale of finding your inner strength; we could see how the audience reacted to that, and how they all started to sing.
And with that, the festival was over. We thanked everyone who helped us; we gave our presents to the storytellers. We promised we would do it again next year.
After the closing ceremony, we all went out into the dark garden with candles in our hands; there was a small exhibition waiting for us among the trees that some of our friends put together from glass and porcelaine art, and every piece told us a different story. We wandered among the shadows with our little lights; it almost felt like finding our way back home after two days in another world.
All the tales are true.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Once upon a HOLNEMVOLT 2.
As I was saying, we had 6 amazing tellers.
Well, actually, we had 5 amazing tellers, and me :)
(Check out the HOLNEMVOLT Facebook page for photos!)
We had...
... Angela Davis, the Yarnspinner, from New Orleans, LA
... Tone Bolstad FLøde, from Norway
... César "El Wayqui" Villegas, from Perú
... Birgit Lehner, from Austria
... Csernik Szende, from Transylvania
... and me.
I have told with Angela and Wayqui before when they were in Hungary; I knew Birgit from FEST, and Szende because I have been to her performances, and she is a friend of Petra, the person who made Holnemvolt happen (she is a pastor of the lutheran church, also leads the gospel choir, is an opera singer and a midwife, and speaks like 5 languages, by the way). Tone was new for me; I have exchanged countless emails and messages with her, but never heard her tell. But what I knew about her I could tell she was an exceptional person :)
We started the festival with an olio, to show the audience what they can expect for the rest of the two days. To open the festival I told the story of Moses dividing the Red Sea (as an allegory to the festival, because someone had to take the first step to create a road to the other side). After that, every storyteller told a short story; they were all delightful and wonderful, and captured the audience at once. Birgit told a tale of the three wishes combined into one; Angela sang a funny song about how guys should not be trusted. Tone told the tale of the clever girl (going to the prince not dressed but not naked, not on foot but not ona horse... etc. you know the story don't you), Wayqui told a folktale about how all the birds got married except for the hen and the rooster. Szende sang a wonderful song, and told a short little tale too.
And then it was time for the rest of the day. Every teller had a one-hour performance to ourselves; and all the programs were great!
Angela opened with Swamp Party, her collection of Louisiana tales. I was the one translating for her, and let me tell you, I felt like Coyote holding on to the tail of a shooting star. The audience loved her; they laughed, they yelled, they smiled. She walked down into the audience and picked a guy to participate in the story; and she not only picked him, but also picked him up, and carried him onto the stage on her shoulder. You should have seen his face.
(She also happened to pick my dad to play a loup garou in the story; I was laughing so hard I had to stop translating)
After a short lunch break, Szende took over the stage; since she doesn't only tell stories, but also uses foot puppets, she had to sit on a table to let the audience see what she was doing. She was very cute, and pretty, and we were glad we did not need to translate her because she speaks a Transylvanian dialect and it is sometimes hard to understand even for us. Her performance of székely folktales (with lots of audience participation) was a great success.
The next teller was Tone, and I was very excited to finally hear her tell her viking tales. She was dressed in a Medieval costume, and so was her translator, Timi; they looked great together. Tone started humming a song, and we were instantly pulled into another world; I had a very strong sensation of traveling, and even the air seemed colder. We heard about the Norns, golden apples, viking warriors, Loki, and the World Tree; at some moments in the story, I felt goosebumps on my skin. She was that good.
Birgit followed, and we wandered into another world: the world of Roma folktales. She fell in love with gypsy culture a while ago, and she tells their wonderful stories and sings their beautiful songs. It was an interesting choice of a program; in Hungary, even though many Roma people live among us, most people barely know anything about their culture or heritage. Birgit did a great job opening that world up for us through stories.
The last performance of the day was Wayqui (since I was translating for him too, I made sure I had time to rest between the two). He brought us love stories from all over the world; he told us how the first act of love was invented, he told us a tale about a grain of sand who loved a star; he told us the story of the three princes who all loved the same girl, but in different ways. Wayqui has a very calm, strong way of telling; the audience would follow him anywhere.
And the day was far from over!
In the evening, we had a ghost story concert named "Esti kísértés" (kísértés has a double meaning in Hungarian: it both means temptation and haunting). The hall filled up with people; somehow everyone seemed interested in ghost stories for adults. In this program, every teller told one tale again. Some were frightening (like Angela's, who dressed up as an old woman, concealing her face with a shawl, and managed to creep out everyone just by showing up), others were funny (like Birgit's telling of The piper's revenge). Wayqui told a Medieval tale of a man who snored, and a princess who was always terrified; it was one cute love story if I ever heard one.
And when all the tales were told, we walked outside, and... erhm... noticed some flying lanterns that happened to float by (since the fire department does not quite approve of them), and watched them disappear into the dark sky until they were just moving stars among the real ones. Our wishes, wonders and stories traveled with them.
And so ended the first day of the Holnemvolt Festival.
Well, actually, we had 5 amazing tellers, and me :)
(Check out the HOLNEMVOLT Facebook page for photos!)
We had...
... Angela Davis, the Yarnspinner, from New Orleans, LA
... Tone Bolstad FLøde, from Norway
... César "El Wayqui" Villegas, from Perú
... Birgit Lehner, from Austria
... Csernik Szende, from Transylvania
... and me.
I have told with Angela and Wayqui before when they were in Hungary; I knew Birgit from FEST, and Szende because I have been to her performances, and she is a friend of Petra, the person who made Holnemvolt happen (she is a pastor of the lutheran church, also leads the gospel choir, is an opera singer and a midwife, and speaks like 5 languages, by the way). Tone was new for me; I have exchanged countless emails and messages with her, but never heard her tell. But what I knew about her I could tell she was an exceptional person :)
We started the festival with an olio, to show the audience what they can expect for the rest of the two days. To open the festival I told the story of Moses dividing the Red Sea (as an allegory to the festival, because someone had to take the first step to create a road to the other side). After that, every storyteller told a short story; they were all delightful and wonderful, and captured the audience at once. Birgit told a tale of the three wishes combined into one; Angela sang a funny song about how guys should not be trusted. Tone told the tale of the clever girl (going to the prince not dressed but not naked, not on foot but not ona horse... etc. you know the story don't you), Wayqui told a folktale about how all the birds got married except for the hen and the rooster. Szende sang a wonderful song, and told a short little tale too.
And then it was time for the rest of the day. Every teller had a one-hour performance to ourselves; and all the programs were great!
Angela opened with Swamp Party, her collection of Louisiana tales. I was the one translating for her, and let me tell you, I felt like Coyote holding on to the tail of a shooting star. The audience loved her; they laughed, they yelled, they smiled. She walked down into the audience and picked a guy to participate in the story; and she not only picked him, but also picked him up, and carried him onto the stage on her shoulder. You should have seen his face.
(She also happened to pick my dad to play a loup garou in the story; I was laughing so hard I had to stop translating)
After a short lunch break, Szende took over the stage; since she doesn't only tell stories, but also uses foot puppets, she had to sit on a table to let the audience see what she was doing. She was very cute, and pretty, and we were glad we did not need to translate her because she speaks a Transylvanian dialect and it is sometimes hard to understand even for us. Her performance of székely folktales (with lots of audience participation) was a great success.
The next teller was Tone, and I was very excited to finally hear her tell her viking tales. She was dressed in a Medieval costume, and so was her translator, Timi; they looked great together. Tone started humming a song, and we were instantly pulled into another world; I had a very strong sensation of traveling, and even the air seemed colder. We heard about the Norns, golden apples, viking warriors, Loki, and the World Tree; at some moments in the story, I felt goosebumps on my skin. She was that good.
Birgit followed, and we wandered into another world: the world of Roma folktales. She fell in love with gypsy culture a while ago, and she tells their wonderful stories and sings their beautiful songs. It was an interesting choice of a program; in Hungary, even though many Roma people live among us, most people barely know anything about their culture or heritage. Birgit did a great job opening that world up for us through stories.
The last performance of the day was Wayqui (since I was translating for him too, I made sure I had time to rest between the two). He brought us love stories from all over the world; he told us how the first act of love was invented, he told us a tale about a grain of sand who loved a star; he told us the story of the three princes who all loved the same girl, but in different ways. Wayqui has a very calm, strong way of telling; the audience would follow him anywhere.
And the day was far from over!
In the evening, we had a ghost story concert named "Esti kísértés" (kísértés has a double meaning in Hungarian: it both means temptation and haunting). The hall filled up with people; somehow everyone seemed interested in ghost stories for adults. In this program, every teller told one tale again. Some were frightening (like Angela's, who dressed up as an old woman, concealing her face with a shawl, and managed to creep out everyone just by showing up), others were funny (like Birgit's telling of The piper's revenge). Wayqui told a Medieval tale of a man who snored, and a princess who was always terrified; it was one cute love story if I ever heard one.
And when all the tales were told, we walked outside, and... erhm... noticed some flying lanterns that happened to float by (since the fire department does not quite approve of them), and watched them disappear into the dark sky until they were just moving stars among the real ones. Our wishes, wonders and stories traveled with them.
And so ended the first day of the Holnemvolt Festival.
Once upon a HOLNEMVOLT 1.
We did it.
We put an international storytelling festival together.
2 days, 6 tellers, 6 countries. Countless stories.
We did it.
...
All right, so we just wanted an excuse to bring storytellers here for ourselves.
An enermous amount of work went into the creation of HOLNEMVOLT. Fortunately enough, we had a lot of great people helping us; seven women and one guy worked together for months, taking care of all the details from creating the homepage all the way to making decorations. We all worked with enthusiasm and devotion, and we managed to overcome all the obstacles (such as some people trying to sabotage the festival by organizing a national conference on top of it... well, two, actually, taking our reserved guest rooms etc.) We were all tired and busy and overwhelmed; but no one ever complained.
We were building a new event from below scratch - we did not only have to promote the festival, but promote storytelling itself, since a few people even knew what the word means. So we had to patiently explain over and over and over and over again that Holnemvolt is for grown-ups, and yes, we will have translation, and no, we are not reading from books, and yes, storytelling can be enjoyable for adults, blah blah blah Ginger. Looks like we did a great job; no one showed up with kids expecting a children's festival, so the message went through. Our pr and media expert did a wonderful job promoting the festival; we were in newspapers, in all the radio programs, on tv, everywhere. We had posters and stickers up all over Budapest. We did everything possible to make the festival successful.
Of course there were problems; we had to deal with a lot of things. The timing, for example, proved to be one of the problems: since 15th of March is a national holiday in Hungary, and it was on Tuesday, people had a four-day weekend with amazing weather, so many of them left the city. We also had almost no money for creating the festival, so we had to rely on people's good will and volunteer's help. Fortunately enough, we got great volunteers. We made a few mistakes ourselves out of tiredness or inexperience; but we managed to get everything in place in the end, and made a list of what we will do better next year. For a very first festival we've ever organized, I think Holnemvolt was a pretty decent job.
I hope that one day, years from now, the creation of the festival will become a story in itself. One of the people who came to listen to our tales said "this is the kind of event that years from now when it will be huge an popular, people will be proudly saying 'I was there at the very first one...'". That's what we are aiming for.
Of course, it would not have worked without our wonderful, wonderful tellers. They traveled here on their own money to help us create a storytelling event for this country; they were all great, and kind, and helpful, and very patient with all of us when we were tired and confused. And they brought us amazing stories that made us think: "We HAVE to do this again next year..."
So many things happened in two days, it is hard to remember all of them at once. In the next few posts, I will try to summarize the experience for those who were not there.
Maybe next year :)
We put an international storytelling festival together.
2 days, 6 tellers, 6 countries. Countless stories.
We did it.
...
All right, so we just wanted an excuse to bring storytellers here for ourselves.
An enermous amount of work went into the creation of HOLNEMVOLT. Fortunately enough, we had a lot of great people helping us; seven women and one guy worked together for months, taking care of all the details from creating the homepage all the way to making decorations. We all worked with enthusiasm and devotion, and we managed to overcome all the obstacles (such as some people trying to sabotage the festival by organizing a national conference on top of it... well, two, actually, taking our reserved guest rooms etc.) We were all tired and busy and overwhelmed; but no one ever complained.
We were building a new event from below scratch - we did not only have to promote the festival, but promote storytelling itself, since a few people even knew what the word means. So we had to patiently explain over and over and over and over again that Holnemvolt is for grown-ups, and yes, we will have translation, and no, we are not reading from books, and yes, storytelling can be enjoyable for adults, blah blah blah Ginger. Looks like we did a great job; no one showed up with kids expecting a children's festival, so the message went through. Our pr and media expert did a wonderful job promoting the festival; we were in newspapers, in all the radio programs, on tv, everywhere. We had posters and stickers up all over Budapest. We did everything possible to make the festival successful.
Of course there were problems; we had to deal with a lot of things. The timing, for example, proved to be one of the problems: since 15th of March is a national holiday in Hungary, and it was on Tuesday, people had a four-day weekend with amazing weather, so many of them left the city. We also had almost no money for creating the festival, so we had to rely on people's good will and volunteer's help. Fortunately enough, we got great volunteers. We made a few mistakes ourselves out of tiredness or inexperience; but we managed to get everything in place in the end, and made a list of what we will do better next year. For a very first festival we've ever organized, I think Holnemvolt was a pretty decent job.
I hope that one day, years from now, the creation of the festival will become a story in itself. One of the people who came to listen to our tales said "this is the kind of event that years from now when it will be huge an popular, people will be proudly saying 'I was there at the very first one...'". That's what we are aiming for.
Of course, it would not have worked without our wonderful, wonderful tellers. They traveled here on their own money to help us create a storytelling event for this country; they were all great, and kind, and helpful, and very patient with all of us when we were tired and confused. And they brought us amazing stories that made us think: "We HAVE to do this again next year..."
So many things happened in two days, it is hard to remember all of them at once. In the next few posts, I will try to summarize the experience for those who were not there.
Maybe next year :)
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
HOLNEMVOLT FESTIVAL!
International Storytelling Festival for 500 people
Recommended for ages 14 and up
Time: 2 days (March 12-13., 2011)
Ingredients:
Base: 5 international storytellers
- Northern flavors: Tone Bolstad Fløde
- Southern spices: Angela Davis
- Austrian sweets: Birgit Lehner
- Hungarian savor: Csernik Szende
- Mixed salad: Zalka Csenge Virág
Toppings: 5 creative Hungarian interpreters
Spices:
Stories, tales and legends for adult audiences
Ghost story concert late into the night
Spiritual stories
Open mic
Floating lanterns!
Served:
Evangélikus Egyetemi és Főiskolai Gyülekezet
1117 Budapest, Magyar Tudósok körútja 3.
HOMEPAGE
FACEBOOK
Yes, that's right! Hungary now has an inetrnational storytelling festival! YAY! :)
Recommended for ages 14 and up
Time: 2 days (March 12-13., 2011)
Ingredients:
Base: 5 international storytellers
- Northern flavors: Tone Bolstad Fløde
- Southern spices: Angela Davis
- Austrian sweets: Birgit Lehner
- Hungarian savor: Csernik Szende
- Mixed salad: Zalka Csenge Virág
Toppings: 5 creative Hungarian interpreters
Spices:
Stories, tales and legends for adult audiences
Ghost story concert late into the night
Spiritual stories
Open mic
Floating lanterns!
Served:
Evangélikus Egyetemi és Főiskolai Gyülekezet
1117 Budapest, Magyar Tudósok körútja 3.
HOMEPAGE
Yes, that's right! Hungary now has an inetrnational storytelling festival! YAY! :)
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Moment of cute
"What kind of story are you going to tell?" the little girl asked, sitting with her chin in her palms, eyes shining.
"Peruvian" I answered "It's an indian story."
"Ooh" she smiled, flashing milk teeth "We are indians too! Half."
They looked like it too. Two little girls with beautiful dark eyes, dark hair, and cream brown skin; one of them smily and chatty, the other timid and shy.
"Well," I started "Thi story is about a tatú. Do you know what a tatú is?"
"I don't." said the little one.
"I do!" said the other cheerfully "It's a little anyimal with a tail, and armor. And it can curl up into a ball."
"That's right, that's very good" I smiled.
"I still don't know what it is" the other girl chimed in.
"We saw in on TV" her sister explained "It has short legs."
"That's right; it's a small animal, it has nose like this, and ears like this..." I added "And yes, it has short legs."
"Maybe it doesn't" the chatty girl mused "Maybe it has long legs, you just can't see them from the armor. Like, you know. Icebergs. There is a little bit sticking out, but they are big. Under the water."
"I still don't know what a tatú is" the little one complained.
"I'll show you at home" her sister promised. "Listen to the story."
And so I told them the story of how peope stole the nigt from the tatú, because it was just the perfect length for them to sleep and rest, and how they never gave it back to the little animal, so now it has to sleep during the day. And ever since then, every day is followed by a night that has been stolen from the tatú.
"But but but" the girl held up her hand politely as soon as they story was over "Not all nights are the same length. Some are longer. And in the summer, they are short."
I really had nothing to say to that.
"I still don't know what a tatú is" the little one volunteered.
So, we went on, and I told them the story about the Fox who was saved by the cactus plant, and gave his claws to it as a sign of gratitude. Ever since then, cacti have thorns, and foxes still hide among them.
And then I told them the story about the Fox who was in love with the Moon, and how after a lot of adventures he managed to reach the sky, and stay with the moon forever.
"I think this is the same story" the girl concluded, once the tale was finished "I think it is the ame fox."
"It might be" I agreed - I had never thought about that possibility before.
"Do you think he is afraid up there?" the girl asked "It is very high up."
"I don't know." I admitted "Do you think he is afraid?"
"No." she shook her head firmly "I think he is happy."
I smiled. "I think so too."
"I still don't know what a tatú is." chimed the little one.
"Maybe he is afraid" added her sister, ignoring the change of topic "You know, when the moon is dark and you can't see the whole of it, and then the fox in under the shadow, and maybe he is afraid."
"Maybe" I nodded "But the Moon is still there, so he is not alone, right?"
"Right" she nodded with a smile.
"I still don't know what a tatú is." the little one insisted.
"Shush. I will tell you." her sister said.
...
That, my friends, is a storyteller in the making.
"Peruvian" I answered "It's an indian story."
"Ooh" she smiled, flashing milk teeth "We are indians too! Half."
They looked like it too. Two little girls with beautiful dark eyes, dark hair, and cream brown skin; one of them smily and chatty, the other timid and shy.
"Well," I started "Thi story is about a tatú. Do you know what a tatú is?"
"I don't." said the little one.
"I do!" said the other cheerfully "It's a little anyimal with a tail, and armor. And it can curl up into a ball."
"That's right, that's very good" I smiled.
"I still don't know what it is" the other girl chimed in.
"We saw in on TV" her sister explained "It has short legs."
"That's right; it's a small animal, it has nose like this, and ears like this..." I added "And yes, it has short legs."
"Maybe it doesn't" the chatty girl mused "Maybe it has long legs, you just can't see them from the armor. Like, you know. Icebergs. There is a little bit sticking out, but they are big. Under the water."
"I still don't know what a tatú is" the little one complained.
"I'll show you at home" her sister promised. "Listen to the story."
And so I told them the story of how peope stole the nigt from the tatú, because it was just the perfect length for them to sleep and rest, and how they never gave it back to the little animal, so now it has to sleep during the day. And ever since then, every day is followed by a night that has been stolen from the tatú.
"But but but" the girl held up her hand politely as soon as they story was over "Not all nights are the same length. Some are longer. And in the summer, they are short."
I really had nothing to say to that.
"I still don't know what a tatú is" the little one volunteered.
So, we went on, and I told them the story about the Fox who was saved by the cactus plant, and gave his claws to it as a sign of gratitude. Ever since then, cacti have thorns, and foxes still hide among them.
And then I told them the story about the Fox who was in love with the Moon, and how after a lot of adventures he managed to reach the sky, and stay with the moon forever.
"I think this is the same story" the girl concluded, once the tale was finished "I think it is the ame fox."
"It might be" I agreed - I had never thought about that possibility before.
"Do you think he is afraid up there?" the girl asked "It is very high up."
"I don't know." I admitted "Do you think he is afraid?"
"No." she shook her head firmly "I think he is happy."
I smiled. "I think so too."
"I still don't know what a tatú is." chimed the little one.
"Maybe he is afraid" added her sister, ignoring the change of topic "You know, when the moon is dark and you can't see the whole of it, and then the fox in under the shadow, and maybe he is afraid."
"Maybe" I nodded "But the Moon is still there, so he is not alone, right?"
"Right" she nodded with a smile.
"I still don't know what a tatú is." the little one insisted.
"Shush. I will tell you." her sister said.
...
That, my friends, is a storyteller in the making.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The True Tale of the Black Knight
"Tell us stories about the Black Knight!"
They really got me with that one.
The first time we met, I told them the story of Dame Ragnell (they are studying the Middle Ages this semester), and they greatly enjoyed it; interestingly enough the most exciting character for them was the Black Knight, who asked Arthur the question and threatened to kill him if he didn't find the answer. So, naturally, they decided they wanted to hear more about him.
And here I was with one week to solve the riddle: Who is the Black Knight, really?
There is a bunch of Black Knights in legend and lore; knights, especially evil ones, generally enjoy wearing black. My favorite Arthurian novelist, Gerald Morris, might have a word or two to say about that; but the question still stood: where could I finf the true story of the Black Knight?... In one week?
There was one other person I knew of: THE Black Knight, the one that conquers all other knights, and wins every fight in the end. Yeah, I'm talking about Death. There is a story about a princess who would only marry the perfect knight, the one that could kill all others - and she ended up being carried away by exactly that person. There is an amazing song about it, Der Letzte Tanz (The Last Dance) by Schandmaul.
Anyhow, back to my quest. I doubted a whole Story Club could be based on the Black Knight being Death, so I kept on searching for more apropriate and more... alive candidates.
Remember one very important thing: Children are always right about stories.
So without further ado I present you our very own personal Black Knight: Sir Breunor.
He was interesting enough to tell about; we could start with how he became a knight (and slaying a lion in King Arthur's court was something the kids just loved to act out - Guinevere ran screaming around the Round Table pursued by a roaring lion until Breunor (or, Bruno, as we called him) killed the beast, and got knighted for his deed). We went on with the tale, and it was an absolute win: the little girl and the knight were an amazing couple, constantly yelling at each other and calling each other names until they gave up, the girl got kidnapped and rescued by a whole team of Arthurian knights, and they became best friends forever.
And this is not all. To my utter surprise, there is another story about a Black Knight, and that Black Knight is nobody else but the grandson of our very own King Arthur! If it wasn't for the kids' request I would have never found the Renaissance romance of Tom a'Lincoln and his two sons, the Black Knight and the Faerie Knight. It's a tragedy, really, but a very colorful and well written one. And because I discovered our very own Black Knight (Bruno or not Bruno) had a brother (well, half brother), there was a straight linw to walk from Black Knight to Faerie Knight (which, by the way, is the lamest name ever for a knight, according to my kids), and from faerie knight to faerie princes, and so we ended up with the story of King Cormac.
It was amazing to watch them act the story out. It was as if they knew what was going to happen the moment I started the tale; most of the time I didn't even need to tell them, I could just sit back and watch as the story progressed. They just felt their way through the entire story. I gave Cormac a string of bells I use for storytelling, and he shook them every time he needed to, and they figured out the tale on their own. It was really a fascinating sight - a story, thousands of years old, and they had no trouble coming to the same conclusion it originally had. Once it was finished, we talked about what makes a good king and why, and they all agreed that good kings talk to people and listen to their problems. They also agreed the bells were awesome, and I had some trouble untangling them before I could tie them back around my ankle.
I think I learn just as much from these kids as they learn from me. Now I know a lot more about the Black Knight, and he'll remain just that, our very own Sir Bruno, with his half-brother the Faerie Knight, who has the lamest name ever. Sometimes, just sometimes, fairy tale villains turn out to be so much more than just an evil guy in black armor...
They really got me with that one.
The first time we met, I told them the story of Dame Ragnell (they are studying the Middle Ages this semester), and they greatly enjoyed it; interestingly enough the most exciting character for them was the Black Knight, who asked Arthur the question and threatened to kill him if he didn't find the answer. So, naturally, they decided they wanted to hear more about him.
And here I was with one week to solve the riddle: Who is the Black Knight, really?
There is a bunch of Black Knights in legend and lore; knights, especially evil ones, generally enjoy wearing black. My favorite Arthurian novelist, Gerald Morris, might have a word or two to say about that; but the question still stood: where could I finf the true story of the Black Knight?... In one week?
There was one other person I knew of: THE Black Knight, the one that conquers all other knights, and wins every fight in the end. Yeah, I'm talking about Death. There is a story about a princess who would only marry the perfect knight, the one that could kill all others - and she ended up being carried away by exactly that person. There is an amazing song about it, Der Letzte Tanz (The Last Dance) by Schandmaul.
Anyhow, back to my quest. I doubted a whole Story Club could be based on the Black Knight being Death, so I kept on searching for more apropriate and more... alive candidates.
Remember one very important thing: Children are always right about stories.
So without further ado I present you our very own personal Black Knight: Sir Breunor.
He was interesting enough to tell about; we could start with how he became a knight (and slaying a lion in King Arthur's court was something the kids just loved to act out - Guinevere ran screaming around the Round Table pursued by a roaring lion until Breunor (or, Bruno, as we called him) killed the beast, and got knighted for his deed). We went on with the tale, and it was an absolute win: the little girl and the knight were an amazing couple, constantly yelling at each other and calling each other names until they gave up, the girl got kidnapped and rescued by a whole team of Arthurian knights, and they became best friends forever.
And this is not all. To my utter surprise, there is another story about a Black Knight, and that Black Knight is nobody else but the grandson of our very own King Arthur! If it wasn't for the kids' request I would have never found the Renaissance romance of Tom a'Lincoln and his two sons, the Black Knight and the Faerie Knight. It's a tragedy, really, but a very colorful and well written one. And because I discovered our very own Black Knight (Bruno or not Bruno) had a brother (well, half brother), there was a straight linw to walk from Black Knight to Faerie Knight (which, by the way, is the lamest name ever for a knight, according to my kids), and from faerie knight to faerie princes, and so we ended up with the story of King Cormac.
It was amazing to watch them act the story out. It was as if they knew what was going to happen the moment I started the tale; most of the time I didn't even need to tell them, I could just sit back and watch as the story progressed. They just felt their way through the entire story. I gave Cormac a string of bells I use for storytelling, and he shook them every time he needed to, and they figured out the tale on their own. It was really a fascinating sight - a story, thousands of years old, and they had no trouble coming to the same conclusion it originally had. Once it was finished, we talked about what makes a good king and why, and they all agreed that good kings talk to people and listen to their problems. They also agreed the bells were awesome, and I had some trouble untangling them before I could tie them back around my ankle.
I think I learn just as much from these kids as they learn from me. Now I know a lot more about the Black Knight, and he'll remain just that, our very own Sir Bruno, with his half-brother the Faerie Knight, who has the lamest name ever. Sometimes, just sometimes, fairy tale villains turn out to be so much more than just an evil guy in black armor...
God is a birl
"You know. Boy and girl. Like snails."
I swear I was not the one who brought the Bible stories up. It was the third meeting of the Story Club at a certain international school in Budapest, and my adorable eight-year-olds decided to take matters into their own hands, and requested stories from the Bible. They brought the book too, a colorful and easy-to-read kids' version of it, and told me they had been reading it and found it very exciting, and they were almost at the end now. It was fascinating to see the sheer enthusiasm they had for reading through the greatest story of all for the first time in their life.
The Story Club is a colorful bunch. Kids from all corners of the world, native and non-native English speakers, from different backgrounds, cultures, families and languages. And they work perfectly together. They are amazing, creative, friendly and lively. I honestly have no idea if they are having more fun at the Story Club or I am.
One of the boys opened the book on the first page, and started to read the story of the Creation. Since they made it their own rule that they are going to act out every single story we tell, as soon as the tale begun, we were in need of a God. This was the moment when the question of God's gender became an issue. They pointed out that "in this book, God is a he" (since he was picutred as the stereotypical old man with the long beard), but they also knew quite clearly that that's not the whole truth. And then, snails came into the picture, and the group cheerfully agreed that God was a birl.
Chosing one of the boys to create our own story universe, we went on with the tale. One girl ran to the light switch and turned it off and on, illustrating light and darkness. Pillows made the clouds, and the blue carpet was excellent for water, with the green sofa rising from it, forming firm ground. Animals and plants were never a problem for such a creative bunch.
And then we got to Adam and Eve. Adam was a bit shy, and stood next to God, listening to the story; Eve, on the other hand, did an excellent job of acting like she'd never seen... well, anything before. She poked and prodded at things like pencils, bags, pillows, walls and people, and she made funny squealing noises when something surprised her. One little girl with an amazingly deep voice volunteered to be the snake; another boy became the angel with the flaming sword. I couldn't help but smile as one of my favorite books came to my mind.
(Good Omens, what else.)
After we got through creation, we went on to Noah's Ark. All piled onto the green sofa, we floated on the blue waters of the Great Flood Carpet. There are several folktales about animals on the Ark; we acted out quite a few of them. Why the dog's nose is wet; why cats sit on the threshold; why the woodpecker's head is red. When floating on the Ark got boring, we decided to skip to King Solomon.
I know it's not a Bible story per se, but I've always loved the tale of The Butterfly that Stamped. And it has King Solomon in it. And the Queen of Sheba. And genies, which I had to explain to the kids - to my surprise they didn't know the story of Aladdin. Anyhow, we got into the story of the King and the butterflies, and the parents waiting for us outside the door could hear the whole group chanting "Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!". We got a great King with a magic ring, a very smart little Queen, and an amazing genie who could lift the whole palace into the air.
In the few mintues left at the end of the story club, we finished with the tale of Moses dividing the Red Sea (the folktale version of it, where a girl has to walk into the waters first in order to show God the bravery of the people). It was a much more quiet story, and the kids watched in awe as one of the girls walked across the blue carpet with determination in her eyes. That story has a lot to think about. "God doesn't give you a miracle until you give something from yourself first."
I was not planning on bringing Bible stories to them; when I asked them one week earlier what kind of stories they wanted to hear, I was expecting to hear 'dragons', 'princesses', 'fairies', or something along those lines. But they said Bible, and so Bible it was.
We had great fun.
I can't wait to hear what they'll come up with next time.
I swear I was not the one who brought the Bible stories up. It was the third meeting of the Story Club at a certain international school in Budapest, and my adorable eight-year-olds decided to take matters into their own hands, and requested stories from the Bible. They brought the book too, a colorful and easy-to-read kids' version of it, and told me they had been reading it and found it very exciting, and they were almost at the end now. It was fascinating to see the sheer enthusiasm they had for reading through the greatest story of all for the first time in their life.
The Story Club is a colorful bunch. Kids from all corners of the world, native and non-native English speakers, from different backgrounds, cultures, families and languages. And they work perfectly together. They are amazing, creative, friendly and lively. I honestly have no idea if they are having more fun at the Story Club or I am.
One of the boys opened the book on the first page, and started to read the story of the Creation. Since they made it their own rule that they are going to act out every single story we tell, as soon as the tale begun, we were in need of a God. This was the moment when the question of God's gender became an issue. They pointed out that "in this book, God is a he" (since he was picutred as the stereotypical old man with the long beard), but they also knew quite clearly that that's not the whole truth. And then, snails came into the picture, and the group cheerfully agreed that God was a birl.
Chosing one of the boys to create our own story universe, we went on with the tale. One girl ran to the light switch and turned it off and on, illustrating light and darkness. Pillows made the clouds, and the blue carpet was excellent for water, with the green sofa rising from it, forming firm ground. Animals and plants were never a problem for such a creative bunch.
And then we got to Adam and Eve. Adam was a bit shy, and stood next to God, listening to the story; Eve, on the other hand, did an excellent job of acting like she'd never seen... well, anything before. She poked and prodded at things like pencils, bags, pillows, walls and people, and she made funny squealing noises when something surprised her. One little girl with an amazingly deep voice volunteered to be the snake; another boy became the angel with the flaming sword. I couldn't help but smile as one of my favorite books came to my mind.
(Good Omens, what else.)
After we got through creation, we went on to Noah's Ark. All piled onto the green sofa, we floated on the blue waters of the Great Flood Carpet. There are several folktales about animals on the Ark; we acted out quite a few of them. Why the dog's nose is wet; why cats sit on the threshold; why the woodpecker's head is red. When floating on the Ark got boring, we decided to skip to King Solomon.
I know it's not a Bible story per se, but I've always loved the tale of The Butterfly that Stamped. And it has King Solomon in it. And the Queen of Sheba. And genies, which I had to explain to the kids - to my surprise they didn't know the story of Aladdin. Anyhow, we got into the story of the King and the butterflies, and the parents waiting for us outside the door could hear the whole group chanting "Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!". We got a great King with a magic ring, a very smart little Queen, and an amazing genie who could lift the whole palace into the air.
In the few mintues left at the end of the story club, we finished with the tale of Moses dividing the Red Sea (the folktale version of it, where a girl has to walk into the waters first in order to show God the bravery of the people). It was a much more quiet story, and the kids watched in awe as one of the girls walked across the blue carpet with determination in her eyes. That story has a lot to think about. "God doesn't give you a miracle until you give something from yourself first."
I was not planning on bringing Bible stories to them; when I asked them one week earlier what kind of stories they wanted to hear, I was expecting to hear 'dragons', 'princesses', 'fairies', or something along those lines. But they said Bible, and so Bible it was.
We had great fun.
I can't wait to hear what they'll come up with next time.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
