Dear Reader:
Mur·phy’s Law
/ˈmərfēz ˈlô,ˈmərfēz ˈlä/
noun
- a supposed law of nature, expressed in various humorous popular sayings, to the effect that anything that can go wrong will go wrong.
Not that anything went wrong, per se. It’s just that attendance was down for Open Mic Night, due to harvest, beautiful weather, the cold that’s going around, folks still basking in the glow of the previous Wednesday evening’s event and already gearing up for upcoming events… The folks that came were regular attendee’s last season. As well, there were several new faces. Your friendly library manger participated with a story she wrote titled Ziwa. As the promised group creation did not occur, the following is an excerpt from Ziwa.
I look past her into the night. There is a banana tree, leaves dewy with the coming day, though the sky is still dark. The air is not hellish with the acrid smell of sulfur. Still, I am certain. I see the witch now. I don’t know this woman witch. In her left hand she holds a staff of gnarled wood, three feet long. The knobby headed rod is the thing, I deduce, with which she so boldly knocked. In her other hand is an onion. A large, white, peeled onion, the size of a grapefruit. Several bites are missing from it. When she speaks, it is from around a mouthful of the juicy, masticated bulb. On her face, under her nose, around her mouth, and down her chin, are the white, crummy remains of cheese curds. I see, on the ground at her feet, she has set down a basket. It is one of those willow branch woven baskets. Large enough to carry twin babies in. In it I see there are more onions, a block of queso fresco wrapped in a banana leaf, a spool of blue twine, and colorful silk scarves: blue, green, orange, yellow, pink; a rainbow of them. The hilt of more than one knife is protruding from the mess of silk. Around her waist, she has cinched a wide leather belt. Pressed into it are images of ancient chieftains and Mayan goddesses. A scabbard hangs from her side, a machete encased within it. Tucked into her belt, nestled against the skin-heated silk of her blouse, I see another hilt. Her colour finally jars me. This witch, here to help me, is draped in layers of the labors of silkworms. From her shoulders down to her ankles hang yards of brilliance: flashing green; flaming orange. Her head is wound about with a bright turban halo. Her bare feet look warmed by the cold damp of grass in the hours before dawn. Green blades cling, slicked to her toes and wrapped around them. They make me think of shards of glass. In my mind, I have endowed this woman with the power to walk upon broken glass, across hot coals.
Open Mic Nights are an opportunity for community sharing of creativity. Our next Open Mic Night is on November 15th. We look forward to welcoming you in any capacity: spectator or participant.
My first open mic was fantastic. I crushed. And my second mic was as bad as my first one was good.
For more information on any of our events, please contact the Russell Library at 204-773-3127 / ruslib@mymts.net or Binscarth Library at 204-532-2447 / binslb@mymts.net or message us on Facebook. Please visit our website at https://russellbinscarthlibrary.ca for more information.
Happy Reading, Until Next Time,
The Library Ladies