Juzblogged: July 2010

I found a snail camouflaged as a piece of driftwood today. It made me think about how turtles and snails are so alike in their difference, and the Butcher Dance.

The Butcher Dance

A guy spent five years traveling all around the world making adocumentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he had every singlenative dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film -- or so he thought. He wound up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he popped into apub for a well earned beer.He got talking to one of the local Aborigines and told him about hisproject. The Aborigine asked the guy what he thought of the Butcher Dance."Butcher Dance?" he said, confused. "What's that?""What? You didn't see the Butcher Dance?""No, I've never heard of it.""Mate, you're crazy," the Aborigine replied. "How can you say you filmedevery native dance if you haven't seen the Butcher Dance?" "Umm. I got a Corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?""No, no. The Butcher Dance is much more important than the Corroborree.""Oh," the man said, his curiosity piqued. "Well how can I see this ButcherDance then?""Mate, the Butcher Dance is way out in the wilderness. It'll take you manydays of travel to go see it.""Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepestdarkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances.Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance.""Ok, mate," the Aborigine replied, shrugging. "You drive north along thehighway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you'll see a dirt trackveer off to left. Follow the dirt track for 126 miles till you see big hugedead gum tree -- the biggest tree you've ever seen. Here you gotta leave car,because it's much too rough for driving. You strike out due westinto the setting sun. Walk three days till you hit a creek. You follow thiscreek to the northwest. After two days you'll find where the creek flows out ofsome rocky mountains, but it's much too difficult to cross the mountains there,though. So you head south for half day until you see a pass through mountains.The pass is very difficult and very dangerous. It'll take you two, maybethree days to get through it. On the other side, head northwest for fourdays until you reach a big huge rock -- twenty feet high and shaped like a man'shead. From the rock, walk due west for two days, and then you'll find thevillage. You'll be able to see the Butcher Dance there."So the guy grabbed his camera crew and equipment and headed out. After acouple of hours, he found the dirt track. The track was in a shocking state,and he was forced to crawl along at a snail's pace, and so he didn't reach thetree until dusk, where he was forced to set up camp for the night.He set out bright and early the following morning.

His spirits were high,and he was excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysteriousdance that he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions hehad been given, he reached the creek after three days and followed it foranother two, until he reached the rocky mountains.The merciless sun was starting to take its toll, and the spirits of bothhimself and his crew were starting to flag; but wearily they trudged on,finally finding the pass through the mountains. Nothing would prevent him fromcompleting his life's dream. The mountains proved to be every bit astreacherous as their guide had said, and at times they despaired of evergetting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days ofback breaking effort, they finally forced their way clear and continued theirlong trek.When they reached the huge rock, four days later, their water was running low,and their feet were covered with blisters, but they steeled themselves andheaded out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtually staggered into the village. To their relief, the natives welcomed them and fed them and gave them fresh water, and they began to feel like new men. Oncehe recovered enough, the guy went before the village chief and told him thathe came to film their Butcher Dance."Oh mate," he said. "Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. Youtoo 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 dancefor me tonight?""No, no, no!" the chief exclaimed. "Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once ayear. You want see Butcher Dance, you come back next year."Understandably, the guy was devastated, but he had no other option but tohead back to civilization and back home.The following year, he headed back to Australia and, determined not to missout again, set out a week earlier than before. He was quite willing tospend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensurehe was present to witness it.But right from the start, things went wrong. Heavy rains that yearturned the dirt track to mud, and the car got bogged down every few miles.Finally they had to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. They reached the creek and themountains without any further problems, but halfway through the mountain pass,they were struck by a fierce storm that raged for several days, during whichthey were forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsided.Then, before they had traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of thecrew sprained his ankle badly, slowing down the rest of their journey greatly. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they had been traveling,they staggered into the village right at noon."The Butcher Dance!" the man gasped. "Please don't tell me I'm too late tosee it!"The chief recognised him and said, "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time."Relieved beyond measure, the crew spent the rest of the afternoon settingup their equipment and preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid. Asdusk fell, the natives started to cover their bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of birds' feathers and animal skins. Once darknesshad settled fully over the land, the natives formed a circle around a huge roaring fire. A deathly hush descended over performers and spectators alikeas a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entirebody entered the circle and began to chant."What's he doing?" the man whispered to the chief."Hush," the chief whispered back. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spiritsof the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through ourdance, 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 reached a stunning crescendo before he removed himself from the circle. The rhythmic pounding of drums boomed out across the land, and the natives began to sway to the stirring rhythm.The guy became caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This wasit. He realized beyond all doubt that his wait had not been in vain. He was about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement everconceived by mankind.The chief strode to his position in the circle and, in a big boomingvoice, started to sing: "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right armout. You butch yer right arm in, and you shake it all about...."

Definitely something to ponder on whilst at Shapeshifter this weekend.

A passage from Monday's Warriors by Maurice Shadbolt

Titokowaru tries to teach Booth how little, how differently, and how deliberately he chooses to perceive:

Booth put on a patient expression. Silence grew around them. Birds fluted and chimed overhead.

‘ You hear?’ Titoko asked. ‘ You hear the bird in the tree?’

‘ Just so,’ Booth agreed.

‘ Listen longer,’ Titoko asked. ‘ What do you hear now?’

Booth was brief ly si lent. ‘The same,’ he confessed.

‘ Not the tree in the bird?’

‘ It fai ls to make itself apparent,’ Booth said, rather baffled.

‘ That is your problem, Mr. Booth. You hear us as but the bird in the tree. You are deaf to the

tree in the bird.’ (43)

Titokowaru’s nature is a concept, a cultural relationship, and not a fact. The ‘ tree in the bird’ speaks more to achieving a bodily and social knowledge of the world that derives from physicalexperience; it is a form of empirical knowl edge. Titokowaru’ s understanding of the tree in the bird evokes the ki nd of understanding that Roderick Neumann characterizes as that of a practical, rather than an aesthetic, engagement with l andscape, where the insider travels in landscape rather than through landscape. Booth’s surveyors travel through it . Titokowaru and his Demon travel in it.