Ulana’s scratchy voice broke the silence. She began a rhythmic chant. Her hands were held up high and her face revealed a beatitude that could only be as a result of her passion. After Ulana recited a few stanzas, the crowd would join in. The voices of the men and women spoke as one as if this were a common rite with them. When the crowd silenced, Ulana would continue alone again for a while, followed by a resumption of the crowd’s chants. Someone was pounding a drum, producing a deep, heavy, ominous sound. Several of the women had tambourines which they jingled and pounded at appropriate moments.
Finally, the voices reached a crescendo, the drum’s beat became faster, the tambourines chimed. Ulana’s voice rose above all else in a long, high pitched screech. And then all were silent.
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