Showtime! Our community performance and the unveiling of 1000 Cranes

Showtime!!!

We had our big show today. The kids were bouncing off the walls all morning, clinging to me, climbing on me, and driving the other adults crazy. Together we folded a giant crane and on it we traced everyone's handprints, then crafted one final string of cranes to give away as door prizes, and finally, I caved, sending the kids out to the playground to expend some of that nervous energy. 

Co-creating the last crane

We did not find out until just about show time that the village was scheduled for a power outage from 1-4pm (our show was scheduled from 2-3). Luckily the school has a generator which run safety lights and we were able to scrounge up some battery powered speakers that would have to suffice; after all, the show must go on. 

By the time the audience began showing up, the children could hardly contain themselves. I set them about the task of greeting people at the door, welcoming them to the show, and ushering the patrons into our considerably darkened gym. We "held the curtain" for a few minutes when we saw the last Honda (ATV) on the horizon, kicking up dust, adults and kids piled on top of one another. Megan, a teacher at the school, handed out door prize tickets to each patron who entered the gym, and once everyone settled down, Megan kicked off the show with a brief synopsis of what the kids had accomplished in the classroom during summer school.

Then it was our turn. I introduced myself briefly, then got right down to business, inviting the kids to "take the stage". Taiko drumming was up first, using the "gomekan taiko" or trash can drums the kids made the first day of my residency, stretching packaging tape over 5 gallon plastic buckets, and using sanded wooden dowels for "bachi" or drumsticks. 

St. Michael Welcoming Committee

The elementary students went first, performing "Matsuri Taiko" a festival drum piece, and then the older students wowed us with their adaptation of "Hachijo" a piece composed by Stan Shikuma of Seattle Kokon Taiko, about the island of exile for the Japanese samurai.  Next came "Soran Bushi" an updated version of a traditional Japanese fishing dance, often performed by Japanese school children before a field day. The elementary students were up next, with their creative jazz dance about the animals and plants that help to repopulate the forest after a fire, and we all had a blast watching the older kids give us a sample of their breakdancing skills. Both groups showed off some of their new moves across the floor, and for our big finale we all performed the greatest American folk dance in history, a.k.a. Michael Jackson's "Thriller", complete with authentic zombie impressions.

I dismissed the children to go fetch the "surprise" and began to share with the audience some of what I had witnessed and felt during my time in St. Michael. I spoke of the shyness of the children that first day, how when I'd asked for their names, they'd silently all turned their backs. I spoke of the hard work the children had put into our preparations for the performance, and how proud I was of how far they'd come. I spoke of my perspective, both as an artist and an outsider, to the tragic events of the weekend, my emails home requesting family guidance and the parable my father shared about the oyster turning a grain of painful sand into a beautiful pearl. Finally I shared with the audience my decision to fold one thousand cranes in a gesture of healing and support. 

Still reeling from fresh trauma, it only took one mention of this weekend's accident for all of the faces to crumple and the tears to flow. As soon as I'd finished speaking, I gestured to the children waiting eagerly at the door, and in they paraded, their faces beaming with pride, a strand of cranes held aloft in each arm. The tears of the audience fell faster, but I could see their faces begin to uncrumple as we all struggled to take in as much as we could of the bittersweet moment, the colorful cranes and the proud smiles of the children mingling with the visceral memory of Saturday's failed rescue.

The raffle for the door prizes helped to quell the emotion in the room, and soon people were smiling and clapping for the winners of the big boxes of carrots, pears and milk, all leftover from the students in summer school. My residency students even used their newfound taiko skills to offer enthusiastic drum rolls for the grand prizes: the handprinted crane and the last string of cranes which we had attached to a piece of driftwood from the beach,

After the final prize was given out, the audience was invited to the lobby/cafeteria for refreshments. I had rolled my best impression of sushi earlier that morning, out of the nori (seaweed) that I had brought from home and the Uncle Ben's rice and canned tuna which I found at the AC store. Megan even managed to round up two cheese cakes and some cranberry juice to add to our feast.  

1000 Cranes. We did it!

Everyone gathered and ate and talked about the show, while the gym was left open for children to dance and play on the drums. I was thrilled to see the students I'd worked with during the residency patiently teaching their songs and dances to the younger ones, helping them hold the drumsticks, and offering words of encouragement for enthusiastic creativity. 

I felt particularly blessed when the parent of one of my older students, a member of the tribal council, expressed her gratitude for my efforts and said that my presence in St. Michael during this community heartbreak was certainly "no accident." I hugged her, thanked her, and replied "I couldn't agree more."