Yoga Nijn: And we don't like fire

Moving from -20˚ in winter, to downpours in spring, we swiftly reach the exhilirating joys of +42˚ in summer. Of course this heatwave conveniently coincides with family week, where we double our numbers to 120, including 40 kids.

I keep noticing how I tell people that ‘I hate kids’. But actually I don’t. Kids can be a lot of fun. I like the way they look at things. Their curiosity and laughter. However, a bunch of kids all at once, is too much energy for me. Like a birthdayparty without escape.

This year I decide to face my fears, and interact instead of hide. I take my ‘harp to the kidszone and get involved in all sorts of make-believe. With the professional musician daddies we play music on the stage the next day. The kids dance around and sing Twinkle Little Star. I love playing music with them; the kids, but mostly their dads.

When my throat starts to hurt, my body conveniently remembers an ear ache that has been lingering for weeks. Throat and ear quickly merge into a pain that declares me sick for the rest of family week. In bed I hear the kids yell at the beach, and cover the window with a blanket as to keep the heat and noise out. Neither of them work.

My fellow Ganesh-dwellers get more exhausted as time passes. I only see the meal-end of family week: Bland mac & cheese, pizza and pancakes. Kidsfood. On the last night, I make an effort to go to the gala. Sitting at the back, I keep my germs to myself. It is actually quite cute: ‘We are faeries!’, ‘We are dragon slayers!’, ‘We are goddesses!’ Still I leave early. Too much noise, too much fuss.

Already in bed, I hear Nadia and Mie in the lake. For the first time this week, I feel stable enough to clamber down the rocks and join them. The water feels so good as we laugh and swim. And I know: Tomorrow I am better! Tomorrow comes. And the much-prayed-for rain has washed almost all the kids away. But not my sore throat. Following ancient yogic tradition, I am to be quarantined until all symptoms have ceased. In a community like ours infection spreads like wildfire. And we don’t like fire.