It was that time again on Friday night- skit night, where
any self-dignity that remains from phase, vanishes in off-key acapellas and
dodgy acting. Presented to the entire 13A crew and in front of a panel of three
judges, the ‘Nica Chicas’: Jess, Alice and Holly, the skits were marked on
humour, language, inclusivity and creativity. As with the first skit night, the
second had hilarious moments and every group put in a huge amount of effort.
Most incorporated a medley of songs within their skit- ‘It’s Raining Men’
appeared not once, but twice and the venturers’ experiences of D&V and
other general ailments were harmonised in some very witty melodies. The dominant theme was water, and
anyone lucky enough to not get drenched whilst trekking in Phase 2 had their
alms paid that night thanks to the enthusiastic use of water guns.
The winners of the evening, however, were X-Ray 9, who did a
fantastic theatrical sketch of their time in Conte Burica and below is their
transcript from the night.
We
present to you a skit of subjective interpretation. For your pleasure, for your
knowledge, we created theatre. Our walk we depict, the events in order, from
the onwards, to shortly thereafter. Our scenes we shape, our actions we ape,
for a short time, we will stretch out this rhyme. Tonight, we give you our
journey and our trek to Conte Burica, the walk.
With
night cloaking X-Ray 9, our journey began. The air thick with emotions
aflutter, we began our time, with anticipation, nerves, excitement, with boots
on we were gone.
Beginning
a walk rumoured tough, fearing worst, hoping wrong. Yet soon we were swamped by
tide and ocean. We emerged from the waves, weighed down by the sun, returning
to land. It stretched to the horizon. We reached the mountain, our hearts
quickened, our throats heightened, the behemoth before us resolute in statue
and nature. Yet Katy forced it down, she took it in her palm, without qualm. It
fell away before her steps like Goliath before David. We come upon Eden, La
Corona. Welcome awaited. Spoken in Guaymí, the language of Ngäbe hosts, we
perplexed and tired, their harmonic voices lulled us to sleep.
First light, work, carrying, sawing, trekking, hammering and most of all, tiring; our goal so far, yet four hundred locals depend upon us. The health centre was our all, medical our being. Despite some of our things fleeing, Sebastien, Patricio, Ronaldo, but potent and flaming, surrounded by ‘estrellas fuegas’, our purpose kindled. Older than the mountain, heavier than the waves: we are X-Ray 9.
First light, work, carrying, sawing, trekking, hammering and most of all, tiring; our goal so far, yet four hundred locals depend upon us. The health centre was our all, medical our being. Despite some of our things fleeing, Sebastien, Patricio, Ronaldo, but potent and flaming, surrounded by ‘estrellas fuegas’, our purpose kindled. Older than the mountain, heavier than the waves: we are X-Ray 9.
