Festival of Halinn

The ritual begins with a dawn prayer to Melahr. The game begins at the strike of clapboard. Players have until midday to weave rope down river. They tie ropes to the starting point to form columns, while more posts on the banks secure new rows.   Strategies change over time, but the current preference is for three feet between each column and row. Players take shifts to keep energy levels high. Drummers on different boats keep time to help everyone work in rhythm, while teams shout simple orders to each other.   A second clapboard strike signals an hour left, and teams switch from building to securing so no threads are left dangling. The third strike at midday ends the game and begins the judging. The goal is to do at least as well as the prior year, judged by sturdiness, length, and number of crosses (where rows meet columns).  

Decorating

After judging comes decorating, which lasts until sunset. People adorn the braid with flowers, dyes, baubles, and stretches of fabric to form a colorful canopy. The the coming months, the water levels will drop, allowing people to rest under the canopy in boats or even on the newly-exposed banks.   The floods will eventually wash everything away, but while it lasts, it serves as a reminder that we are all connected. We have to support each other, or everything will come crashing down.

After losing Dad, I wanted nothing to do with Halinn. Didn't want to explain what happened, or leave Dad's favorite hammer in the House. Riardya forced me to go, with the patience and stubbornness of a mountain. I'm glad she did.   Braiding had always been a game to me, but this time, with the drums, the splashing, the shouts, it was like a song I was dancing to. It felt like we acted as one, connected through the river. As if Melahr acted through us. I'd never felt anything like it before.   Maybe this is what people mean when they say they've had a divine experience.   Managing the farm will be hard without Dad, but we'll be alright. Halinn reminded me that we'll have all the help we need.

— A farmer's journal