the Wizard of Oz

Several weeks ago I was asked to participate in a book fair. No, they didn't ask me to do a book signing or anything illustrious like that. Rather they asked me to read a story from my country to a bunch of elementary schoolchildren. In Spanish of course.

You don't know how hard it is to find a story that finds its roots in the US and amongst the classics as well. To start off with, most of the classics have been around for at least several hundred years. They are told down through the generations and become famous. Well the US hasn't been around that long. Nearly every story that came to my head find it's birthplace in either Scandinavia, Germany, France or England. The obscure eastern European countries seem to publish quite a few too. That all that made things difficult.

In the end, the only story I could find decently translated online or in the library here in Badajoz was, the Wizard of OZ. Okay, so I found more than that, but it had to be at least 25 minutes long. That got rid of most and left me with an American Classic I have never previously seen or read... Though I had heard of it!

So the previous two weeks were spent practicing reading to myself, alone in my room. Az or Abby would comment about hearing monk-like chanting coming from my part of the house. Also during those two weeks, I stumbled upon a costume and thought, wow, what a great way to keep the kid's attention. So a scarecrow I became. Unfortunately it was a woman scarecrow, with a fake butterfly sewn onto the hat, and plastic bags cut into strips to look like straw. Woman or not, in the end it passed.

Well the big morning arrived. Costume in the backpack and made my way down to the plaza. At 11 o'clock sharp a group of schoolkids showed up. And if I am allowed to say so myself, they were darn impressed with the wierd guy dressed up as a woman scarecrow speaking a mixture of Spanish and English at them. (The English was just to keep their interest.) Half an hour later I finished the story with Dorothy back home in Kansas, myself completely drenched in sweat, and most of the niños paying me absolutely no attention.

What can I say? 25 minutes is a long time to make some poor little seven year olds sit and listen to a story that maybe went a bit over their heads. But hey, it was an experience.

Oh yeah, when I finished I was asked to immediately repeat it. Whoever was supposed to tell the story during the half hour slot following mine, didn't show up. What the heck. "Once upon a time in a grey field in Kansas..."

Maybe one day I'll get around to watching the real thing...