The Day of the Basques and the Zagórze Highlanders / main concert

A fence on the stage. A fence divides, but a fence can also unite, because after all it is one, although seen from two sides. Everyone may see it differently, unless the people living next door invite each other to learn the layout of the knots and grain on the boards from the other side. After all, we can argue that the fence is the way we see it, or we can accept that someone has a right to see it differently and try to see it that way too. But why? To understand... maybe to love... And of course it's not about the fence. It is just a symbol. A symbol of reality.

The world in the Basque Country looks very different to the world in Jurków. The children from the north of the Iberian Peninsula might insist that their outlook is more “correctly mine than correctly yours,” but at the FESTIVAL OF THE CHILDREN OF MOUNTAINS they can meet Polish, Serbian, Maasai, Greek, Moldovan children to exchange their outlooks. And to understand different ones.


Aunt Hania is again wearing a different costume, but that is not even a costume, but a Lach outfit. She wears this outfit with great respect, because this is how our grandmothers used to dress on the most important holidays. Uncle Patryk is getting increasingly elegant, though invariably after the Lach fashion. As the tension in the concepts presented grows - good, friendship, love - so does the festive character of the emcees’ costumes.

In addition to the obvious, but no less respectable guests - namely Festival Director Andrzej Zarych and our chaplain Father Stanisław Kowalik - present in the audience today were the following persons who were watching “their own folk”: Benedykt Węgrzyn, the head of the Dobra Commune; Urszula Palka-Ranosz, the head of the Community Centre in Dobra, and... the Country Housewives’ Association from Dobra.
 

Beyond the mountains, beyond the forests. Seemingly far away... But this is not always the case. The MALI JURKOWIANIE children are Zagórze inhabitants, because to reach their land from anywhere, you have to cross the mountains [in Polish Zagórze means ‘the place over the mountains], but it's not that far, except from the Basque Country.
 

“Liba, liba, liba....” The girl draws the geese near with her singing, but probably more so with what she’s got in her basket. Two other girls invite her to play together under a steep hillside. They take the geese with them, of course. This is what responsibility is all about. On the one hand, the story of the children from Jurków is about responsibility: for the geese, for the rams... But on the other hand, it should teach adults that a child is a child, and so it is natural for it to play rather than to work, so it will be drawn towards play by its internal gravity.
 
The Jurków children’s story also teaches some other things. That children can be mischievous, and if you don't want to clash with that mischief and even ridicule, practise jumping over a skipping rope, and when you say you “can do it,” make sure you really can, otherwise it will come out even worse. 

The Jurków children’s story teaches that it sometimes pays to listen to the old, or even to ones that are only slightly older than us. Had the two boys listened to the girl’s harsh remarks about the unattended rams, they would not have faced an even harsher reprimand from their mum afterwards, to say nothing of what they could expect from their father. The girl’s argument with the boys - masterfully enacted!

The Jurków children’s story teaches that it is worth trying to make friends, because without them a person will be nothing but a dud. “Glory be to God, glory be to God, the dud has been left behind....” Singing multiplied many times over, and when it ends, they pair up, and whoever doesn’t - they are a dud. And while the group’s reaction to the lonely “dud” is hardly praiseworthy, it teaches what Aunt Hanka was saying yesterday: love must be sought, love must be cared for.

A paternal uncle, who is on his way to a wedding ceremony, carrying a button accordion, gives praise to God and agrees to play so the children can have a dance. Two rows face each other, and successive couples, accompanied by a song about a miller, dance along to the end of the row. Then “sum, sum, sum” - the suwany dance, in which they glide quietly like in a polonaise, embracing one another, as the dance draws people closer. And in two circles: Our double bass... And two lads... the only two lads to call for the last dance. Especially for them, as they are the ones in the middle, like those two dancing Michaels.

The Jurków children’s story teaches that there are no decisions without consequences. Apart from the mother’s harsh reprimand, there are the stray geese and sheep to be found; on top of that, the announcement of a conversation with the father does not make the situation any better.
 

Like all the Basques, the members of the GERO AXULAR KULTUR TALDEA ensemble take care of their little corner so that they are not absorbed by a foreign reality, so that they can preserve their identity. They take great care from the very first moments on stage...

Two horns... the sound is made by the girl’s lungs. It is a cue, like a call. They are calling for a song that sounds like an anthem. An even, marching rhythm. At the end, the Basque flag flies above the girls’ bent heads.

The rhythm doesn’t change, but the melody does. It sounds like an invitation to dance somewhat resembling ballet, a series of light hops, and all this is done facing the audience, with concentration and a gentle smile. The girls - red skirts, white blouses and aprons, black waistcoats. There are seventeen of them. Only three boys, in their case it is mainly the red berets and colourful scarves that catch the eye.

They move seamlessly to the next dance. Bent branches serve as props, making the dancers look as if each one had their own window on the world. And soon the “windows” turn into instruments as they start beating against each other in rhythm.

A solo dance performance by one of the boys. Only for a moment, because it is shortly followed by a game known from years ago: in the middle, a girl is holding a tall stick, with eight ribbons tied to its top. There is one girl at the other end of each ribbon. They run around, under the ribbons, passing each other, so that a pattern gets formed on the mast. It gets formed, only to disappear in a moment, as the dance starts going the other way.

And another prop: simple, short sticks. After dancing for a while, as the sticks strike against each other, they turn into a kind of percussion instrument.

In a moment, Auntie Hanka will introduce the instruments in the Basque band, two of which are very special. One not much simpler than those sticks on stage: txalaparta, which is a solid board on two sheepskins that the musician hits with two clubs. The other instrument important to the Basque is txistu, which is a type of flute that has become a symbol of the Basque folk revival.

At the end, exuberantly, with their hands up, they leave the stage joined in a snake with a Basque flag at the end.

At the beginning, I mentioned two sides of the fence. The emcees, Hanka and Patryk decided to check what the metal “moat” separating the audience from the stage looked like from the other side, and so they walked down towards us. Of course, the real reason was to listen carefully to the song about the siskin.

MALI JURKOWIANIE return in festive costumes and with an all-girls musical band: three violins and a small double bass. Circles, couples... a chain dance! Floral skirts, bodices flashing with spangles, and kierpce shoes. The boys, unfortunately, are still only two, both in boots with uppers, black trousers, white shirts, hats with cowrie shells.

 
And the Basques again, headed by their flag, which they always carry so proudly. Two couples enter the stage, dance a little as if to provide support to the rest of the group, who just a little moment later touch the stage with their feet in the same rhythm, in the same routine, to the same tune. A step slightly reminiscent of charleston, joyful, cheerful.
 
And another dance. Here, the primary role is played by two boys. They dance with... oars. And when the oars are laid crosswise on the stage floor, they become a challenge: to dance over them, between them, and not to touch them with a foot...

Two girls with horns get started, and they too finish by introducing the rest of the group. A dance with strong kicks and turns, a bit like a warning not to get too close to a Basque if you are an enemy, because if your intentions are friendly, you can make friends with a Basque.