by Dawn Corrigan

We traveled a long way to participate in the Fair. We never would have thought of going; we couldn't imagine we had anything to impress those judges. But then we received a special invitation. Shyly we packed our wares and set out for the Fairgrounds.
 
When we arrived all was unfamiliar. We couldn't even figure out where to go, until our guide arrived. Then we couldn't believe we were worthy of this kind of special attention. But our guide just laughed and assured us all first-timers were treated this way.
 
She took us to our quarters. A lovely suite of rooms, comfortable but simple, with hot and cold running water and a cupboard full of fruit. Again, we were overwhelmed, and a little ashamed. We'd planned on staying in our vehicle. Not to worry, the guide said again, that's what everyone thinks the first time. But we couldn't help feeling like hicks.
 
She told us to relax. Freshen up, take a nap. Whatever we needed. She gave us her pager number for when we were through. We were tired, it's true, but too excited to sleep. We wanted to see everything. So after a quick change of clothes and a snack--consisting of something that looked like breadfruit, but with a flavor more like coconut--we paged our guide and said we were ready.
 
She told us to call her Emily. That wasn't her real name, but we wouldn’t be able to pronounce it, she said. Again we were ashamed, though Emily only laughed again. Please, we begged her, let us try. So she said her name, and it turned out she was right. We couldn't say it.
 
She gave us a tour of the Fairgrounds. We felt like cavemen walking through The White City. There was technology we'd never imagined and food we'd never tasted. But what really amazed us was the Fair attendees. We thought we'd witnessed diversity before, but now we understood our mistake. It was strange to come up against, not just the limits of our knowledge--we expected that--but of our imaginations as well.
 
By this time we were determined not to show anything that year. It was enough just to see what others had brought. Maybe next time, we thought, though when we tried to imagine what we could bring that would impress these folk, our minds came up with a big, complex, colorful ... nothing.
 
We were slated to appear before a special panel that reviewed exhibits from first-timers. We allowed Emily to lead us there at the appointed time, prepared to make our little speech. But when we arrived, the judges somehow coaxed us to participate.
 
There were only two judges, one big and one small. They seemed more foreign than Emily, but they were so gentle and kind that we soon felt at ease.
 
Our first item was a CD player and a James Brown CD. There was no place to plug it in but fortunately we had batteries. We played "Licking Stick." This had been the subject of much discussion on our trip. After long debate, we'd finally agreed this was the song we'd start with.
 
We watched them anxiously as the opening beats of the song rolled over them. When Brown cried out, "Horns!" and the horns started playing, I thought I saw the small judge smile. By the time the song got to the line about Sister out in the backyard, doing her outside dance, Emily was up on her feet, dancing around.
 
The judges didn't say anything when the song was finished, but Emily smiled at us encouragingly. We thought it was time to move on, though, and turned the CD player off.
 
They looked at us with expectant eyes. Our other item was an orchid. As we removed the plant in its little pot from the carrying case, we felt misgiving. It looked so small and insignificant. What had we been thinking?
 
But there was nothing to do now but proceed. We brought out the orchid. It was a hybrid, the Dendrobium Benazir Bhutto. The judges looked at it for a moment. Then the big one moved her arm-like appendage close to it. We realized she was inhaling, or something very like it.
 
Then she sighed. "Ah," she said. "That's nice."

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