March of the Aurochs

When I was a young boy, I used to love going to these gatherings. There was always lots of good food, I got a chance to play with my friends, and most importantly, I got to get out of the house for a while. However, as I entered adolescence, the gatherings gradually became less and less fun. Every year, fewer of my friends would attend, preferring to hang out with their friends from school rather than the friends that had been thrust upon them by family. As I grew older, there was also more expectation for me to participate in the traditional side of the gatherings – the prayer ceremonies that often lasted for what felt like hours. The gatherings became less about playing around and goofing off, and more about learning about the traditions of my parents’ faith.

As a teen, there was nothing I found less interesting than my family heritage. During our dinners together as a family, my father would often talk about the past – his experience tending to the farm as a young boy, making the long walk to school barefoot because his family was too poor to afford shoes for him, and eventually going to live in a monastery so that he could be closer to school. He would talk about how he discovered his spiritual side while living in that monastery. I would always try to eat as fast as I could in order to escape the stories and retreat to my bedroom, where I was free to watch television or play video games or chat with my friends online. I never could appreciate my father’s enthusiasm for the past or for tradition. And so, for me to be dragged to these gatherings in order to pay lip service to a system of beliefs that I never felt any real kinship towards – well, it was torture.

But today promised to be different, or so my father would have me believe. For today was the March of the Aurochs – a once in a lifetime occurrence according to my father.

“A long time ago,” he told me as we drove to the venue together. “Our ancestors used to worship the land itself. The soil, the ocean, the rivers, the sky, the clouds, the wind; all were seen as divine, for they gave life to everything that lived on the planet. Humans, animals, plants, and insects were all able to exist because of the great Balance that the land provided.”

I stared blankly out of the window and allowed my father’s words to wash over me. My mother had gone ahead to help the other aunties prepare food for the festival. My brother was studying abroad. As such, the car ride consisted of myself, my father, and of course, my father’s stories.

“However,” my father continued. “Somewhere along the way, humanity lost its way. We gave in to our desire for expansion, for modernization, and in doing so, we forgot about the Balance. Because of this, humanity threatened to throw the entire world into chaos.

“It is said that the Guardians first appeared in order to restore Balance to the land. These spirit beasts exist outside the realm of our understanding. We cannot interact with them, nor they with us. They visit on our world briefly and leave without much incident. If you were not looking for them, it’s very possible that you would not see them in your lifetime. Yet this does not mean that they aren’t important. Just as the microbes that live on our skin are important, blind to them though we are.”

I scratched the back of my neck absently, suddenly feeling itchy. It occurred to me that we were not travelling to our usual temple, but rather somewhere further from civilization. Around me there stretched vast green farmland, mostly rice by the looks of it. I checked my phone. One bar.

If my father saw me check my phone, he did not show any indication of it. He continued with his story. “Although the Guardians have been around long enough for us to be able to chart their migratory patterns, it is still unclear what their exact purpose is. Some believe that their appearance brings about slight changes in the ecosystem around them – changes that are so subtle that they may as well be invisible to us. Others believe that they themselves are a part of the ecosystem, simply a link in the chain.”

“What do you believe, dad?” I asked.

My father seemed surprised by my question. Perhaps he was just surprised that I was listening at all. He looked at me briefly before turning back to the road and smiling. “I like to think of them as a reminder. To remind us to be mindful of our own hubris and greed. To remind us to respect the land and the Balance.”

“Have you ever seen them?”

My father shook his head. “The Aurochs are the only Guardians that appear in this land and they only appear every 64 years. There aren’t many that can claim to have seen them.”

“You must be excited.”

“Very much so, yes.”

I wished that I could share my father’s excitement. Yet even as he spoke, I longed for the comfort of my home, for the company of my friends. I internally resolved that this would be the last time that I joined my family in these gatherings.

***

The temple that we arrived at was a surprisingly humble affair. It was a simple wooden structure sitting atop a low grassy knoll. There was a high red gate that extended over the narrow path that led to the temple, but other than that, there were none of the other accoutrements that I had seen at many other temples. As we drove down the long dusty driveway approaching the building, I also noted that there were surprisingly few cars in the parking lot. It had been a while since the last time I’d attended one of these gatherings, but I always remembered them being abuzz with people; the adults organizing the food and participating in the prayers, and the children running around the empty space, playing whatever game they had made up to keep them occupied.

Yet as we parked our car and took the food that my mother had asked us to bring from the house out of the trunk, I was surprised by how few people were in attendance, especially given the significance of today.

I questioned my father to this effect, to which he chuckled softly. “I believe your young mind is playing tricks on you, son. When you’re little, every event seems like a big occasion. However, the reality is usually not as grand as the memory.” He gestured towards the temple. “The other aunties and uncles are probably inside preparing. Why don’t you go see how you can help?”

I did as I was told, carrying a tray of rice cakes up the path that led to the temple as my father went off to shake hands with some of the uncles that were helping with the parking arrangements. Before entering the temple, I took my shoes off and bowed at the entrance. There were people already sitting around in the main prayer hall, many of whom I recognized from past gatherings. There were monks dressed in orange robes sitting in a line at the head of the room. They were talking amongst themselves, and I was very aware that I was carrying an awkwardly large tray of food, so I quickly walked around the edge of the room, heading towards the exit, nodding demurely at any of the elders that made eye contact with me.

I exited the prayer room and entered a kitchen of sorts. Here, there were several aunties milling about, preparing food to be taken to the outdoor area, where there were several tables set up. I asked one of the aunties where I should put my tray of rice cakes and she gestured outside before going back to the food that she was preparing.

I took the tray outside where I spotted my mother. She told me to set the tray of rice cakes on a nearby table and asked where my father was. I vaguely gestured back towards the parking lot, to which my mother offered a short grunt of dissatisfaction.

Now that my hands were free, she took me by one of them and began to lead me out into the grassy field behind the temple, away from the building and the tables of delicious-looking food. She took me to a row of chairs, in which sat one of my aunties. I recognized her to be Ma Kim, the oldest of my mother’s living sisters. My mother looked at me and said, “Be a dear and keep Ma Kim company.” Then she was off, back towards the temple where she presumably had more to prepare.

I stood awkwardly beside Ma Kim’s chair. The woman looked ancient, though I’m sure she couldn’t have been much older than 70. She looked tiny sitting in the foldout chair, her eyes sunken to the point that I couldn’t be sure if they were open or closed.

Mustering up what little of the old language I had in my vocabulary, I asked her if she wanted any food. At first, I wasn’t sure if she’d heard me, but then she offered a slight shaking of the head. I sighed and sat down next to her.

***

The day progressed and I spent most of it by Ma Kim’s side. With no reception on my phone and nobody my age to converse with, I whiled away the hours looking out at the rolling green hills of the countryside, watching the sun move and wishing that I had stayed at home.

All of this changed though, when the first hint of twilight descended on us. By then, the prayers of the day had concluded, the food had been eaten, and everybody had found a spot on the grassy knoll to watch the March of the Aurochs.

It was like nothing I had ever witnessed before. The first Auroch came into view over a distant crest, at first looking like nothing more than a movement of the grass. As they came closer though, their shapes became more discernible. They began to look more like a line of cattle, although their skin was an ethereal green and they were much large than regular bulls.

I noticed they had flowers growing from their horns and what appeared to be moss growing on their hide. As they moved, the grass around them seemed to grow greener, though this may have been a trick of the light.

Without even realizing what I was doing, I pulled out my phone and attempted to record what I was seeing. The Aurochs, however, did not appear on video.

They marched slowly past our group of onlookers, the only indication that they were aware of our existence being the sound that they made as they passed, which reminded me of whale songs I had heard on TV.

I remember being profoundly effected by this event – not only by the sheer majesty of the creatures, but also by the reaction of the onlookers. Particularly Ma Kim, who, as the March of the Aurochs passed, had shed a single tear. I’d watched that tear traverse down the wrinkled surface of her face and it had dawned on me that this was probably not the first time she was seeing the Aurochs. That the last time she had seen them likely would have been when she was a little girl, as young as I had been when I had still enjoyed attending these gatherings.

Following the March of the Aurochs, I began to take more of an interest in my father’s stories. I began to think that perhaps the effect of the creatures we called Guardians was more subtle than we understood.