Eyes closed, the repetitive rhythm carries me. A gentle rise and fall, like a boat rocking on invisible waves. From the shadows of a wooden barn, an energetic female voice is echoed by a choir who repeat every line she utters. Somewhere in the chorus, one voice soars a little higher, weaving a delicate harmony and making the air hum. I may not understand the Seto language, yet its playful cadence makes me sway joyfully.
When I open my eyes, six Seto women – dressed in traditional layered wool and linen dresses with intricately woven patterns – are smiling at one another, as if sharing a secret. As their voices elevate to a crescendo, the silver brooches and chains that were resting on their chests, start dancing with the song’s undulating breath. I’m spellbound. These women are singing leelo to a group of tourists including myself. It’s a two thousand-year-old tradition recognised by Unesco.
