Every summer I used to go to the villages to visit my grandparents. Every year there are some additions in my extended family while some elders were missing from the frame of the great grand family gatherings. Some have shifted to far away places and they never returned, while some have passed away, and some daughters are married off to distant villages, so it is difficult for them to travel. Every summer was special and so were the stories.
We celebrate a festival called "Rojjo", which marks the menstrual cycle for the mother earth, which is why on the consecutive three days women and girls are not allowed to do any work, they are not even allowed to walk bare feet on the surface of the earth.
Women in my village wake up early in the morning, take a bath and dress up. The entire day the relatives keep visiting each other, offering fruits, sweets and other eateries because there won't be any cooking done in any house.
Five days prior to the celebration, men tie ropes and hang swings from strong branches of trees. when all the girls and boys are waiting for their turn on the swings, women sit on palm leaf carpets and sing songs of the festival.
My grandmother was one of the singers. She loved singing so much that I still have recordings of her songs on my phone, which I had recorded in my every visit to her.
I haven't celebrated Rojjo like I used to in the village, for more than a decade now. Far away from home, I only wear a new piece of clothing if I happen to have any or else some years have gone by without the mention of it.
Maybe I am also a part of stories being shared in my village or maybe I too have faded out.