In my never-ending quest to seek out different things to do, I agreed to join Rose “Chatterbox” Thorn at her Beltane Festival last Saturday. Remembering how she waffled my ears off on a trip to Hermanus I threatened her with duct tape. Thankfully this resulted a fairly quiet journey.
All I knew about this pagan festival was that it involved fertility, a maypole and sex. Naturally I was intrigued. I may have a fertile imagination, but had never danced around a maypole and sex is fast becoming a never-done-that scenario too. And don’t mention the bicycle thing, because the last time I rode one (a bicycle people!) I almost fell off.
We arrived on a farm in Worcester in the midday heat armed with a plethora of ritualistic goodies, including a sword, two potjie pots (sorry, cauldrons) and the maypole. We also had hay bales, gasoline, flaming torches, cushions and boxes of wine. Quite frankly, if we didn’t pitch up, they wouldn’t have had a festival. We were met by a bunch of people in black and the sounds of Rammstein. I started wondering when the rest of the World Goth Day crew was going to show up. Clearly the pagans thought they were coming as well as there was one of those “we take no responsibility” notices up, including a piece about the dangers of dancing around a maypole. There was also mention of a childcare facility which I never found (perhaps they ate them – gasp!).
The rest of the day was spent setting up, drinking beer, unraveling the maypole, drinking beer, buying crystals, drinking beer, getting a henna tattoo, drinking beer, getting a pentagram pendant (got to have all my bases covered), drinking beer… you get the picture. Needless to say the maypole was a right bastard to unravel (I never realised how long the ribbons were) and there was much huffing and puffing. By the pagans – I sat in the van and watched over the proceedings.. drinking beer. That made me tired so I had a nap. By 5pm when the festivities were due to take off I was well rested and ready!
But they didn’t take off at 5pm. Because everyone was too busy drinking beer. In the end the maypole dancing only started at around 7.30pm. Turns out that the expression “dancing around the maypole” is a lie. It gets quite technical and there is no dancing. Essentially you are supposed to run around this phallic symbol with a ribbon in your hand and by going over and under the other ribbons you weave the ribboning back onto the pole. There were too few of us to have one ribbon each so we all had to take two. The high priest (or whatever he is called) barked instructions whilst drinking wine (I hope) out of a goblet. Most of the pagans were pissed so it became more like a game of dodgem-pagans with half of them not knowing what “over” or “under” meant and the other half were just too lazy or un-coordinated enough to do it properly. On top of all this, the ground was not the most even and we had to dodge holes and thorn bushes. How anyone made it out without twisting their ankle amazes me. But I will say this, it was fun. And damn good exercise too. Which of course warranted more beer.
The next part was The Ritual, but that was cancelled as it is not cool to do a religious ceremony when the high priest is two sheets to the wind. So I never got to see what the sword was for. But they did have The Great Hunt which essentially is an interpretation of an old tradition where the king would have to hunt a stag and when he had completed this hunt he could then perform the Great Rite. A person gets chosen to play the stag and the king chooses three other men to help him hunt said stag. I was getting quite amped to see a man running around half naked in a loincloth with a pair of antlers on his head. But this was not to be. Instead they had a lad with bunny ears… and a bunny nose. Watching three men chase another man with bunny ears (and bunny nose) almost did me in. But I managed to maintain a serious expression throughout – one must respect other people’s religions – and even cheered when they caught the “rabbit”. I did, however, manage to finish an entire beer in the 3 minutes it took to catch the stag, er bunny.
Then it was time for the Great Rite, which is where the sex part comes in. The chosen couple has sex in a tent and this symbolizes the coming together of the God and Goddess. I thought we’d have to walk around the tent and chant with flaming torches or suchlike, but we left them to it and sat around the bonfire watching belly dancers and flame throwers. And drank beer.
And that was it really. I was relieved that no-one stripped down to their birthday suit and that there was no orgy. This was hinted at a few times by the high priest. If this had happened you would still be able to see me running down the N1 highway.
Oh, the Beltane Festival represents spring, abundance and fertility – and we are not talking about babies here. Fertility and abundance in everything you want, like money or a successful career or an endless supply of tequila. But I promise you now, if I fall pregnant the next time I have sex I am going straight to Ms Chatterbox Thorn and suing the coven.
ps. No cats were harmed during this festival.
Disclaimer:
As I am not a pagan or Wiccan, I actually have no idea what I am talking about. So don’t get upset if I have it all wrong. It is my version of events and by no means factual. And whilst I do find some of this stuff amusing and have written it in a manner that will no doubt amuse you, I have respect for all religions. As you should too.
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