Oh Dancing. Oh Man.

I’ve been called many things in my time; physically graceful isn’t one of them. Unfortunately, “good dancer” has also managed to escape my list of attributes. People talk a lot about dancing here, but aside from the kids not many people actually do it. Most people are too embarrassed. I’m always hopeful to see the women dance at weddings, but generally disappointed, as weddings consist of men sitting and talking outside and women sitting and talking inside- all wearing fancy clothes. I’ve long since stopped hoping to see dancing at weddings, which is apparently the key to getting what I want. As I was chatting and eating with some friends at a wedding celebration (day 1 of the 3 day party,) I noticed the women on the other side of the concession get up and start dancing to the fuzzy radio music. I turned to the woman next to me and said, “Oh, I’m happy to see them dancing!” She responded with, “What? You want to dance? BARAKA WANTS TO DANCE! EVERYONE LOOK! BARAKA IS GOING TO DANCE!” Oh crap. I was dragged to a “dance floor” by a woman named Baraka, who shares no other similarity with me besides the name. I watched her dancing with a baby strapped to her back and a full bowl of hot sauce on her head with out spilling a drop and still managed to look awesome doing it. She started out slow with basically just stepping to the beat, which I managed, then (at the delight of all watching) threw in all sorts of crazy moves. I’m sure the laughter I was bombarded with didn’t do justice to how ridiculous I looked. Then came the time to teach the uncoordinated American how to move her hips like an African woman. Oh friends, it was atrocious. But I had a blast and they loved it. I still get comments along the lines of, “Hey Baraka, remember that time you danced? That was hilarious!” Luckily for me, people here really appreciate effort over the quality of the outcome. And they appreciate a good laugh.