Hey! Do you feel the rhythm?

(This entry wins for dorkiest subject line ever. Show Choir 05-06!)

The first time I was ever really exposed to African dance was at Lake Junaluska in 2007. I was in a dance class where we were taught a combination to do first in unison, and then to imbue with the spirit of different cultures. I was shy and hoping to be able to choose something I considered more modest, like Japan, but I had a feeling that I'd have very little choice in the matter. Our instructor, Kapp, had met me once before, ten years earlier, and later in that week would rechristen me "Kapp Jr.", which to this day remains one of the highest honors I've ever received. As I suspected, Kapp looked at me and said, "Africa," without any hesitation. I of course had no idea what to do, and so Kapp taught me a little bit, gave me an idea so that the spirit could do the rest. (As it does.)

A couple months later at 8:30 on a Thursday morning, I found myself in my first African dance class. African Dance was a required class at PHTS my freshman year of college. I'm not sure I ever heard an official reason "why", though I'm not sure I ever asked. I thought it was great because it got us moving in a way we'd never moved before, broadened our horizons more than ballet or tap or the other dances most studios taught, and created a great sense of camraderie throughout the school because of this strange skill we all put under "Special Skills" on our resumes. It also caused me to LOSE weight my first year of college. At the end of every school year everyone in the school would gather for our Final Friday (All-School), and the first years would do African dance around the graduating seniors and we'd all join in this grand celebration.

Now, I'm in Africa.

Today and yesterday were filled with African dance. At the Durbar for International Students at the University of Ghana, there was a dance troupe, and then today another dance troupe performed for us NYU students. My theatrical brain took a ton of mental notes (which I wrote down later) about structure and physicality and costume and vocalization (this was the first time in Africa I've heard the ululation I so strongly associate with Kapp). Even beyond the dance, the DRUMMING alone. When they brought out the big bass drums I seriously asked myself why I have not been using drums in every single theater piece I've ever done. And the interaction between the drummers and the dancers--the drummers were involved physically and even humoursly as they spoke through the drum.

At the end, we all stood in a circle, and everyone was expected to go into the center and solo. Well, many people went in pairs, or groups of three. Those who were particularly shy were led in by the African dancers who taught them some Ghanaian moves (some of the ones they taught I remembered from last night).

If you haven't noticed, I'm white. Beyond white--I'm translucent. There will never be any way for me to get around the fact that I am white. (Though I turned pink today.) I am also generally on the quieter side when people first meet me (especially in large group settings). I do, however, know how to move my ribs, which people generally don't expect from the quiet white girl. I did a few djole steps for my turn. Afterwards, when we were telling one of the NYU in Ghana staff members what she'd missed since she was inside during the circle, two of the Ghanaian staff members pointed at me and said, "THIS ONE!" (My CRA said, "We saw her inner African!") The staff member who missed it did a double take and said, "Well now I'm gonna look at you differently!"

So.

Dear PHTS,

I have thanked you for many things during these past going-on-four years, because you deserve a lot of thanks. At this moment, though, I'd like to thank you for requiring that I take African Dance my first year, because we all know there's no way I would have taken African Dance had it not been required. And I'm thanking you very specifically, because this skill I thought I'd rarely use just helped me hold my own even as the most obvious obroni in Ghana.

Love,

Colleen

The rhythm of this place is incredible. There's music everywhere. We went to the beach today, and there were speakers pounding out music, and all of it you can dance to because it's all driven by the rhythm. It's the heartbeat of this city. After swimming for a while (STRONG CURRENTS in the Gulf of Guinea), I sat reading Rumi. Everyone should read Rumi on the beach, just like everyone should listen to "Everglades" by Antony and the Johnsons while lying in a hammock. (I also read parts of Origen's Commentary on the Song of Songs and Gregory of Nyssa's The Life of Moses, but I acknowledge that my idea of "beach reading" is rather skewed.) And all the while, it was music, rhythm, dancing. Everywhere. And I couldn't help but start jamming a little in my seat. It's infectuous.

...though I didn't notice anyone else in my group dancing in their seats.

Perhaps it's just that Kapp Jr. came home.