Tuesday, July 14, 2020

A hundred or so teenagers are standing in the square downtown. One boy with a megaphone leads them in chants. He reads the texts from his cellphone’s screen. Many of the teens wave green and black flags or hold long banners. More banners are carefully laid on the ground. I know that something’s happening, but I don’t know what it is. I can’t make out what they are shouting. From their outfits, I’m guessing that they are scouts or something like it. I only know a few of the words on their flags and banners. This seems to be about something closing, but I don’t know if they’re for or against it. The word for “education” comes up a lot. Many of the chants start with repeated syllables, much like the “hey hey, ho ho” that grew so wearisome in the States. A little girl, no more than eight, marches back and forth in front, out of rhythm with the chants. A dark green streak is painted in her long black hair. Small groups of teens freeze in impromptu tableaus with their signs. Grown ups take pictures of them. The sounds of the chants shift as another group marches toward them, stopping at the opposite corner of the intersection. Cars honk, more or less in rhythm with them. The two groups chant, slightly off each other’s beat. I walk between them. The hocketing is marvelous. I wonder if they meant to do that. I see strips of yellow tape on the ground, placed to keep the people on this side properly distanced. They cluster anyway. At least most of them have masks on. I walk through the square, away from them. Outside my favorite hummus joint, a woman solemnly places an open container of cottage cheese at the center of a circle of cats.