A Day Out in Minto

Yesterday the Man I had the exciting good fortune of being out and about in the NSW town of Minto, some hour and a half's drive (if you include the time I was pulled over by the cops for L-plate related crime) from Sydney. We had just turned the car around for the journey home when joy of joys, we spotted the Minto Festival!


Now I'm no small fan of bucolic revelry, reminding me as it does of my childhood, so when the Man suggested we stop, I was all, "Hell, yes!"

We found a parking spot that was sort of in the shade and got out of the car, me at a quick trot because I suspected a sausage sizzle couldn't be too far away. I was enthusiastically (ok desperately) scanning the stalls for signs of a barbecue when the Man pointed out that there was some local dance school performing on the stage. Now, I get a rather morbid enjoyment out of seeing my favourite art form mangled, and I was pretty sure this one-horse town was going to serve up a real treat, so to speak, so I temporarily abandoned my gastronomic plans and dragged the Man over to the stage where 'Rhondelle's School of Dance' was entertaining a huge crowd squashed under an awning.


Imagine my surprise, they were actually pretty good! It was all hip hop and tap, at least when we showed up, and they're not my favourite dance forms by a long way, but yes, they were pretty good. To the point where, if some unspeakable disaster caused me to be washed up in Minto with a husband and kids, I'd actually consider enrolling them (only if they really, really wanted me to, of course. Let's not go too far.) I'm a veteran of a couple of backwater 'dance schools' myself, and I'm frankly astonished at what this Rhondelle has managed to achieve. Even the small kids were really dancing, all sharply choreograped, and all spot on in time to the music. Wow.

Anyway, to get back to the most important part of the story, we located a sausage sizzle. There was a long queue so the Man inspected the halal meat stand next to it. There was a visible Muslim presence at the festival, and apparently eating in Minto is ethnically segregated. The halal stall couldn't beat sausages and white bread, so he gave me the thumbs up and I paid the lady who was collecting money and issuing tickets. They were only $1 each. It was for charity, so being the cashed up Sydney city slickers that we are, we donated extra coins, and the lady swooned at our generosity. I guess they don't see big spending like that out there very often.

We were still waiting, me salivating, when Rhondelle's kids finished and a lady led a train of very obviously Islamic schoolkids (little girls in head scarves, trousers and skirts) to the stage. It was pretty obvious they weren't there to dance! I said to the Man they were probably going to recite from the Koran, and bugger me if that isn't exactly what they did. (Actually, I'm not so up-to-scratch with my medieval Arabic, but I'm pretty sure that's what it was.) Predictably, the Man couldn't stop giggling and making lame jokes. You'll be pleased to know I reprimanded him severely, then suggested they might be going to blow themselves up as an encore, so we'd better not get too close. As it happened, they kept up the chanting for 2 or 3 minutes and then launched into a truly appalling rendition of the national anthem. I think it says a lot about community relations in Minto that a) the school thought it was appropriate to have the kids preach religion at a fun, multi-cultural, secular festival, b) the school felt it necessary to have the national anthem sung/butchered at the end, presumably as a sort of "please don't lynch us at the end" kind of gesture, and c) that everyone took the national anthem butchering so well! Come on, school! Couldn't we have had some rockin' Arab tunes instead?

After that, we re-joined the audience at the stage. Most of my onions slithered out from my sandwich, which was disappointing, and some girls and young women did an Aboriginal dance, and then the Man and I hit the road.