Five kilometres, all of it walking sculpture

One had supposed a "fashion carnival" would be roughly a costume parade with a lot of sequins added, and what appeared instead was a whole structure taller than a person — steel frame and fabric — worn on the wearer's body yet able to move, turn, open its wings; only then did one realise there was a person inside, and that person had to walk five kilometres of road wearing this. A few girlfriends stood at the roadside, and the first procession had barely passed before they were speechless, only gripping one another's arms and shrieking.

The Jember Fashion Carnival (JFC) was only founded in 2003, started by a local designer. In barely two decades it has grown from one small city's idea into one of the largest carnivals on earth. Its stage is not a runway but the five kilometres of streets of Jember, a small East Javanese city; those wearing the extravagant contraptions are not models but local students, office workers, shop clerks — by day, the most ordinary people in this small city.

What one feels on the spot is not only the visual impact, but the willpower of this person walking five kilometres step by step under the fierce sun in tens of kilograms of contraption. On the morning of the parade, the teams wait in the square to set off — the best chance to see the contraptions' detail up close. A few of the girlfriends pressed against the railing, watching a young woman have her wings hoisted onto her shoulders; she drew a deep breath, the way an athlete does before going on — and we held our breath too.

The themes grow bolder team by team: a volcano, an ocean, mythical creatures one cannot name. Among them passed a child of about ten, the contraption only waist-high, yet he walked more earnestly than anyone, chin lifted high. Beside me a friend could not help laughing, then checked herself at once — because the child's look was so earnest one could not bear to laugh.

The sun was fierce, the asphalt baking hot, sequins, feathers and sweat all glinting in the light together. Drumbeats, whistles and the crowd's cheers layered into a wave of heat that struck the face. A few girlfriends huddled together, sharing one bottle of water, taking turns holding up a phone and then too lazy to really shoot, until at last we set the phones down and just used our eyes — some things a lens cannot hold.

The parade broke up, and the one in the huge wings took the whole contraption off, his face with the slack that only comes after spending all one's strength. He saw us watching him and gave a nod this way, and we nodded too, no words. The next day Jember went back to being a quiet farming town, as if nothing had happened the day before. Yet on the way back to the hotel that day, not one of us girlfriends said much, our faces still lit up — I think you and your girlfriends, having seen it, will understand too: inside every "sculpture" that walks past you is an utterly ordinary person, and an utterly unordinary afternoon.