|Chickens trying to get out of the mud...photo by Robbie Petterson|
Music started up from the market, and a few more children snuck to the outside benches to listen. How dare they! Without asking him? He threw his head back, ready to challenge their presence...
When suddenly, from behind the bushes, I leapt out in front of the rooster, waving my arms like a silent banshee as the bird sprang into the air, feathers flying. Around the water tank I chased him, past the sleeping cats and the squawking hens. Over the logs, through the mud, we ran until the rooster was safely in the jungle at the back of his house and silence reigned over that part of the village.
Until the next 50 roosters came stalking over...
You never imagined that rooster chasing would be on a translator's resume, but when my teammate, Rebekah, began working with the local youth of Maipenairu to record songs written in their language of I’ai during our three week travels around Gulf Province, I found myself employed in shooing the noisy flock away from the precious singers and the sensitive recording equipment. I’ll Fly Away suddenly had a whole new meaning...
|The youth were very excited and in some places had been practicing|
|for hours so the recordings could be perfect.|
|The Kope singers were tireless, not wanting to stop for breaks! photo by Hanna Schulz|
Undisturbed, I might add, by nary a crowing rooster.
|photo by Hanna Schulz|