The one with the African "Booty Do"

Let me just start by saying that I think one of the lessons we're supposed to be learning is definitely humility. Humility in the sense that we're being embarassed beyond belief and being able to laugh at it one day. (I've got a head start on this one since I've been embarrassing myself since birth, ain't that right mom and pop-M) And humility in the sense that we're being treated as grand guests in a community that has so little. We've had an exciting weekend to say the least! (understatement of the century-M)

Saturday was just another lazy day here in Koungheul. Veronique finally returned from her trip to Dakar--we were beginning to think she had been offered a trapese artist job and run away with the circus--(In reality she was just picking up guys at the Dakar DHL. Sister gets numbers like it's going out of style-M) and everything was right with the world again. We could communicate with them; all was good. AND even better, Sophee told us there was a party (later to find out that means concert) and asked if we wanted to go. Well OF COURSE we're down to party in Senegal! Duh. Sophee, Hati and Burnadette were all dressed up in their clubbing attire and we set off for the concert around 12:45. These Senegalese party late! $4 got us a ticket and after waiting in line for a while (and witnessing a fight break out between two twenty-somethings who were throwing punches and dirt at each other-M)and making it past three huge bouncers (while the power IE the lights went off making it a chaotic and intimidating entrance...just our style-M), we made it in. A concrete floor with a small raised stage in the corner all surrounded by concrete walls made up the arena. We found a spot to sit in the plastic lawn chairs and waited for the show to start. People watching became our favorite pasttime of the evening. A mixture of traditional Senegalese dress and incredibly shiny American clothing made up the "clubbing attire" of the evening. This kind of thing is their big to-do and they put on their best. (I would like to extend this description for your entertainment. There were a few different distinct styles going on 1)The teenage hoodrats who were wearing anything and everything with the words New York on them. This included both leather Yankees hats and super undersized New York souvenier shirts. 2) The twenty-something women wearing really bad 80's prom dresses that were bedazzled 3) The middle aged women wearing the more traditional Senegalese outfits and enough make-up so that, if we were in the States, I would question if they were drag queens.-M)

A woman, who Leah told us was more of a story-teller than a singer, was first up. There apparently are no set lyrics, she just tells different stories.(More like scream moaned them. You could easily have heard that woman in The Gambia-M) People from the crowd would get up to go hand her money. We're not really sure what that's about but we settled with calling them tips. The next two performances were a man who sang with the full band and a group of men who sang-chanted to some sort of stringed instrument. During the singing, different people from the crowd would hop up out onto the dance floor and dance for a bit then go sit down again. Their dancing looks like they're are hopping around flailing their arms and legs to no particular choreography, but put three or four of them up there at once, and its all in unison. I'm continually amazed. Finally, the main event, a particularly large woman in a bright green low cut (2nd largest understatement of the century-M)dress came out to sing. (If you're wondering she fell well into the last style category. We're talking straight off the catwalk drag queen makeup-M) Her favorite dance was the African version of the "booty doo". Incredibly awkward to watch everyone get up just to shake their hiney at the crowd. More people were getting up to dance than before and most of them were running up to the stage to dance up there with her. And by dance I mean shake their butt. They have an incredibly relaxed system--anyone could hop up on stage if they wanted to tell the band something or have their picture made with the singer. So not like the US. Anyway, so it's like 3 am by this point and Marissa and I are beginning to doze off. (I think I might actually have been asleep which was probably my first mistake-M) Then out of nowhere, I hear the all-too-familiar word "tubaar." That can't be good. We look up and the woman is telling us to come dance. AKA shake our butts. Sophee grabbed Marissa and made her get out on the dance floor while I stayed glued to my chair. Heck no I'm not going to go up their and further demonstrate the fact that I'm white in front of hundreds of people! (OK. So here's the deal. Andi is making it sound like I had a choice in the matter and she was just stronger willed then I was but as a matter of fact, I was the only one the singer saw at first and Andi just stood by and laughed as I was literally dragged up on stage and...by myself...for like 5 minutes...was forced to shake my butt for the entire city of Koungheul. Then finally they pulled Andi up. That's how it happened-M) But they weren't having that. Everyone behind me practically pushed me up to the dance floor. They gave us two chairs to put a foot on while we did the booty doo. Don't worry, it was caught on Senegalese news cameras and we have a picture print out. You can see it when we're home. Hati took us home shortly after we were allowed back to our seats. It was honestly the funniest thing that's happened here and we couldn't stop laughing. Completely 100% embarassing. But hiliarious.

Sunday was a huge celebration for the new priest at church. We donned our matching pink floral Senegalese outfits made for us especially by Sophee and spent pretty much all day at the church. (so. hott. and hot.-M) The new priest said his first Mass in Koungheul with four other co-celebrants. Half of the women had outfits in fabric matching ours. Veronique called it a uniform for the special occasion. After Mass everyone was outside in the courtyard, sitting and talking, enjoying the shade while all the precious kids ran around playing. They put up tents and set benches out everywhere. It was much like a BBQ back home--everyone just hanging out until the food is ready. The new priest and his "distinguished guests" sat at a long table and several of the ladies served them. Veronique had been invited to sit there but gave her spot to Marissa since they would be served vegetables at the table and not for everyone else. After waiting for like two and a half hours, they brought out huge plates of rice and grilled meat and everyone gathered around and dug in. Finally! Meat that's not fish. Praise be! After everyone was finished eating, I bought a Coke and went to join Marissa at the Special Table for cake and to meet the priests. They were so funny, making jokes all the time. Some of the boys brought out their drums and everyone circled up for yes, more dancing. But no booty doo this time!
(This isn't an adequate description of the event so I'm going to do another sub-blog called:
A Beer with the Priests-or An Early 21st Birthday Party for Marsa.
So I got sat at the head table next to a super sweet Italian nun and across from the new priest and one of the other priests and was left alone to try to interpret the broken English of the various nationalities presented- some highlights of the conversation were the nun trying to describe the word "poop" to me so she could tell me that Koalack was "poopy" and the other priest who was a Senegalese man in his 20's asking me if I had a son, then if I was married, then giving me advice on who I should marry "because not all men are good men. Not all Christian men good men", telling me that it is good to be married and that if he wasn't a priest he would marry me so not to be worried, and finally that someday when I have a son he could be a priest... I don't really see that happening but what do I know. This was the progression of the meal: water or coke and whiskey and peanuts, wine (only option... it was forced on me because "is good for you") and a salad of shredded lettuce and tomatoes with hardboiled eggs, then beer (another only option) and rice with goat meat. (another of the million moments since I've been here that I'm glad I don't eat meat.) After we were done eating and during the dancing we were forced to get up and dance...again. I'm noticing a running trend in our trip. Anyways I, after having all my dignity stripped away the evening before, decided that I would have more fun if I just went with it so I pulled out the jerk. Went over super well with the kids. And the guy who looks like Tito from Blue Hawaii taught me how to do the African traditional dance after which he told me I was a good dancer. My work here is done -M)

Marissa and I finally went home in search of water and nap. We got some laundry done and started our bible study for the evening. I got to talk to my wonderful mom last night for a bit, which was just the perfect way to end a great day. We spent the rest of the evening laughing and making jokes with Veronique. I'm really going to miss these girls when we go to Segou!

Its lunchtime now, so we're off to eat! We love and miss you dearly.

Love,

m&a