In Canada’s tenth province we do celebrate some unusual traditions. Or maybe we’re looking for any excuse to party! Have you head of Guy Fawkes? Many Newfoundlanders are descendants of British and Irish ancestry. So that interesting piece of history is remembered. Well, certain parts of it.

‘Oh, do you remember the fifth of November,
With gunpowder, treason and plot?
I don’t see the reason,
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!’

This poem recounts the conspiracy that happened in London, England on the November the 5^th, 1605. Guy Fawkes was the leader of a group of conspirators unhappy with King James I’s persecution of Roman Catholics. In retaliation to the restrictions to freedom enforced by the King and the British Parliament, this group plotted to blow up the sitting parliament in London. It became known as ‘The Gunpowder Plot.’ This attempt failed, and its members were arrested and hanged. This historic event was remembered in England by the lighting of a bonfire on November 5^th. Mixed versions are presented for the celebration. The original version being that the King was saved. However, in later years, it became a symbol of resistance against oppression.

I grew up around the bay where Guy Fawkes night was a big celebration for us children. We were of a young and tender age. So, history lessons were forgotten. We were left to enjoy the night in dare-devil abandon and revelry around a bonfire!

The preparations for this event began in mid-October, when children from various locations in the harbour banded together. Groups of seven to ten were the usual range. Of course, those with axes, hammers or a storage area were held in high esteem and welcomed into any group.

Usually after school was out children played within earshot of any parent or relative who might need us to run an errand for them. Yet, come early October this all changed! Calls for Bill-ee-ee or Jud-ee-eee come here I tell you, come here – were to no avail. All had changed! Not a single youngster was to be found. We were all up in the woods cutting trees and collecting debris then dragging all we had gathered for miles to store in sheds. Each group aspiring to outdo the other in having the best bonfire along the coastline of beaches surrounding the harbour.

Finally the big day arrives. I remember our team of friends gathering to drag the wood and debris down to the beach behind my uncle’s fishing stage. Once the wood was piled high, we would hurry home to eat an early supper. Then excitedly, we’d dress in warm, ‘worn out’ clothes and head down to our spot on the beach. My uncle would accompany us, checking to ensure our bonfire was located safely near the ocean so we could easily access this water to bring our bonfire under control if needed. Also, for additional safety purposes, he put several large buckets of salt water nearby. Once satisfied that the necessary precautions had been seen to, he departed and left us to enjoy the evening.

Oh, what a night! The first lighting of the fire brings an awe to the crowd. We are content to stand around, hypnotized by the glow of its flames. Primitive stirrings surface, and we start pushing the first with sticks. The pokes become more and more aggressive, flames are stirred to increasing roars and climbing heights. We dance around in circles, leaping through the billows of smoke. Laughter and cries of ‘more!’ egg us on.

Readers of this tale take note. Can you not discern a mix of the unnatural emerging? Can you not detect a force of the supernatural possessing these young minds?  Yes, it has happened. From that point on, reckless abandon rules the night. Can you not see it in those eyes? Can you not hear it in the excited, high-pitched voices? Yes, all reason is lost – it is only to let go and be swept away by the moment. The thirst for the adrenaline rush increases the dares. More branches are heaped onto the growing inferno. Colours of red, orange and yellow range unimpeded into the starlit night. Around and around the fire, then comes leaps – so close to the flames!

Finally, late in the night when all judgement is lost comes the big dare: Who is going to jump through the fire? Out from the darkness emerges the brave or foolish one, it’s all in how you look at it I suppose. The chanting begins, ‘Do it! Do it!’ Shouts of encouragement echo into the night. The chosen one emerges from the shadows. He takes a few steps backwards, he gets a good run, then with one big jump, he leaps into the flames! Skillfully he lands safely on the other side! The chosen one has captured the big moment and cheers ring out. Victory!

How is it possible, you ask. Let’s just say it’s in knowing how. Do you hear that hissing sound? Has it started to rain?

Judith Ann Keough
Stouffville, ON