This portfolio originally appeared in Jump Point 10.10.
“When will this be over?”
As a child, I asked my parents that question countless times while celebrating Luminalia. It’s not that I disliked the holiday, rather I enjoyed it so much that I dreaded it all ending. I loved getting gifts from the host, overindulging on the extensive food spread, and being able to stay up super late during the two-day celebration. So, during all the fun, I always found myself a little worried about when it might be over, and every time I asked an adult when the holiday would end, they would give me the same answer — 34,000 beats. Of course, that answer drove me to ask the obvious follow up, “Why 34,000 beats?” The most common answer, “Because that’s how it’s always been,” only opened the door to a new batch of questions that either stumped or went ignored by party guests exasperated by my constant barrage of inquiries.
Having never received a satisfactory answer as a child, last year I decided to pose the question to family and friends gathered at the first Luminalia celebration I ever hosted. My parents chuckled as I gathered everyone and asked them to give me their best answer, and those brave enough to engage in my thought experiment received a little gift. Like in my youth, I heard entertaining and inventive answers but none that really made sense, so I finally decided to investigate the truth for myself. An admittedly tall task considering that the Banu, who created the wonderful holiday and shared it to the UEE, famously don’t keep traditional historical records.
AN UNKNOWN KNOWN
My investigation began by asking several Banu friends why Luminalia, called tsikti efanga (Glow Festival) in their native language, lasted 34,000 beats. They all seemed more confused by the inquiry than my Human friends and family. I wasn’t surprised considering Banu typically embrace the “what” of a situation and not the “why,” yet I still found their answers insightful. The majority of their responses fell within the range of “because that’s how it’s always been done,” but one friend, Bongi, made an interesting distinction by claiming it’s because “that’s how long the lamp is alight.” This got me wondering. Could the holiday last 34,000 beats simply because the first Luminalia lamps held enough oil to stay alight that long?
With Bongi’s answer in mind, I reached out to Seneca Orisaka, a renowned scholar on Banu culture and curator at the Banu Friendship Museum in the Davien system. I began the interview by simply asking her the question, but like so many others, instead of directly answering it, she dove into some intriguing theories that have been raised over the centuries. In the 2600s, Leon Dhawan, a scholar on the Banu and amateur numerologist, proposed that Banu originally only counted to three. A hypothesis rooted in the design of their written symbol for the number three, which is the last of the initial integers with an open-bottom capsule before being flipped to an open-top capsule for number four. Dhawan ran with this tenuous theory to make lots of wild and unsubstantiated claims, including that the 34,000 beats in Luminalia represented three itas (a work day or play shift lasting 10,000 beats) plus 4,000 additional beats for naps and big midday meals. Considering the mental gymnastics Dhawan used to reach this conclusion, it’s no surprise it didn’t take hold. Most scholars disputed Dhawan’s theory while others suggested that the Banu originally counted to five. An argument still kicking around some academic circles, even though the Banu have only ever used a base 10 system since coming into contact with Humans. Meanwhile, others argue that 34,000 beats was the original length of a Gathering on Bacchus II. This theory suggests that these sacred events, where prestigious political Essosouli met to discuss and debate issues that affect the whole of Banu society, used to operate in much the same way as a modern Luminalia festival, with a ceremonial lamp being lit and the Gathering lasting until the oil had burnt out. Yet, Banu practice no such tradition at modern Gatherings and these events are held inconsistently, so it seemed unlikely.
When I pushed Orisaka for her answer, she paused in quiet contemplation. She’s dedicated her life to learning everything she can about the Banu but admitted that she can’t say with any certainty why the festival lasts that long. Then, her eyes lit up when I asked if it might be related to the style and size of the lamp originally used in the festival. “It absolutely could be as simple as that,” she responded. “We have been trying to track down lamps dating back to earlier eras but that has proven quite tricky so far. But, to be honest, one of the most likely answers is that the length of time has very little to do with the Banu at all, and everything to do with us.”
HUMAN INFLUENCE
Luminalia may have begun as a Banu holiday but Human influence on the modern celebration is undeniable. Humans first celebrated it in 2438 when a ship-repair Souli on Cestulus (Davien II) lit their lamp and invited Humans to join. Those first Human revelers being blissfully unaware that their attendance committed themselves to a two-day party. Nearby Human merchants watched or joined the raucous festivity, noticing how Souli members effortlessly transitioned between hosting duties and selling their services and wares to guests. Not to be outdone, some Human merchants hosted their own Luminalia celebrations the following year, starting the slow spread of the festival across the UEE. Luminalia became so popular that, in 2557, the UEE government recognized it as an official holiday celebrated annually on December 22. Codifying this day marked Humanity’s first major change to the festival, as previously the date changed based on what Banu system you were in or what Souli hosted it. Banu have since widely adopted December 22 as the date of the holiday in solidarity with the UEE.
Human influence on Luminalia doesn’t end there. Human merchants also introduced the tradition of hiding empty gift-wrapped packages around landing zones and space stations that could be exchanged for a few credits or a small toy. Yet, one could argue the biggest change Humans made to the holiday was standardizing the oil used in Luminalia lamps so that it burns for 34,000 beats. According to Orisaka, the earliest Human celebrations lasted roughly two days with the exact number of beats fluctuating based on the design of the lamp and the type of oil used. Yet many early Human celebrants either couldn’t find or afford the special oil made by Banu Soulis. This created a large counterfeit market for fuel that either burned too quickly, or worse, released dangerously dirty or toxic fumes. Stories abound from the late 25th century of Luminalia revelers sending emergency comms after lighting a Luminalia lamp with counterfeit oil in poorly ventilated places. The most famous incident resulted in five fatalities after the smoke released by the counterfeit fuel clogged a ship’s atmo scrubbers and suffocated the celebrants. Business interests, concerned about losing a rapidly expanding revenue stream, pushed the government to crack down on counterfeit oil manufacturers and adopt a rating system to certify the quality level of oil. Companies manufacturing five-starrated oils, widely marketed as guaranteeing to burn clean and for 34,000 beats, came to dominate the market by the late 26th century, setting a standard and expectation for future Human generations that the festival should last exactly 34,000 beats.
At first I was disappointed to learn that Luminalia lasting 34,000 beats was probably a Human-made marketing ploy and not some long-lost insight into Banu culture, and I’ve come to accept that we’ll probably never know why Banu originally decided to spend roughly two straight days celebrating Luminalia. Yet, the more I dug into the question, the more I came to understand the answer everyone had given me all along: “because that’s how it’s always been.” I realized that it doesn’t matter why we spend two days celebrating with family, friends, and even strangers as if we’re all one Souli. It only matters that we do it and that the celebration brings us closer together with those we love. That’s the true power of Luminalia and that’s all that matters.