Who Wants a Good Flogging?

A few weeks ago I attended a village event in Zabre commemorating the chief. There were hundreds and hundreds of people from Zabre and its surrounding communities there waiting to see the chief. However, those were not the only people in attendance. There were some men whose job was to keep the peace—not policemen but ordinary villagers. How did they "keep the peace", you ask? They would go around with long sticks yelling at villagers and flogging them. Granted I am not sure if flogging individuals, men and women alike, to get them out of the way or if they are not crouching down enough is the best people way to keep the peace but I suppose it works. If they were not there, there definitely would be risks of stampedes of people being injured or even worse. My friends and I arrived late to the event so we were all the way in the back. I wasn’t really all that worried because being the only whitey in the region does have its advantages. I (and other volunteers as well) am not sure if we are given special status because of being white or because the villagers view us as being a guest to their communities. The line is often blurred. Anyhow, there were two crowds at the events. There was one crowd immediately surrounding the chief and then there was another circle maybe 30 feet further back in a form of circle watching on. However, between the two circles there were the men “keeping the peace” with lots of flogging. We managed to get to the front of the second crowd but we were still quite far away. The “peace keepers” were yelling at the people that no one was allowed to cross them to join the other group. I was a bit disappointed because I wanted to take pictures of the ceremony. However, I was not disappointed for long because once one of the men passed me and saw that I was white he called out to me and said, “Nissara(whitey) you can pass the line but just you.” Camera in hand I happily joined the group. However, it meant that I was to be separated from my friends as they were not allowed to accompany me. Flash forward to after the ceremony of sacrificing chickens, the crowd was then instructed to head to another spot. So we all head over there. It was quite chaotic with everyone racing to get a good place to watch. About 5 minutes later I arrive at the new location. I arrived but was not in the immediate vicinity of the chief (that place is reserved for higher ups and people with special status). I was at the front of the line but I was not passed it. I was quietly and patiently waiting like a good villager. In the meantime the “peace keepers” were waving their sticks and yelling. All of a sudden out of the blue a man flogs me in the legs. The chaotic environment and surprise of being hit made me almost start to tear up. I do not think that the man had realized who he had hit because immediately afterward his friend said something in Bissa, the local language, to the effect of, “Great. Now, you’ve done it. You hit a whitey!” The man begged for forgiveness and told me to join the “special” crowd of about 20 people.