When I went to the library last month, I didn’t know that I would be leaving with a new skill . . . African tribal dancing and drumming!
It all started with an email that I almost overlooked. I rarely sign up for email lists. I’ve resolved to keep my inbox as manageable as possible–so that I don’t waste precious time–and that goal has required me to click on the “unsubscribe” button of countless emails. It has also meant that almost every time I go to the mall, I have to uncomfortably look one or two friendly cashiers in the eyes and explain that I won’t be giving them my email address–even with the promise of coupons. So, I don’t know why I decided to add my name to the email list for our town. I guess it was because we had recently moved here, and I wanted to feel like I was a part of the community. Writing can be a solitary vocation, and I wanted to find out about any opportunities to meet people or to participate in town events.
It was in one of these town emails that I saw an advertisement for a special dance performance. There wasn’t much information listed about it, but the email said that it would be taking place at our library. At the last minute, I decided to take advantage of this opportunity to connect with people in the community.
When I got there, I didn’t see anyone I knew. I had started meeting people through zumba classes at the gym, book club at our library, and a few special events at the Presbyterian church. After a year of living in this town, I had actually started to feel like a local. But on this particular day, I didn’t see a single face that I recognized. As I looked around the room, I realized that I was also one of the only people there without kids. (It seemed to be the happening weekday place for parents to take their kids since school was out for the summer.)
The dancer, April, and her drumming assistant welcomed us to the performance. April was a friendly African-American woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. Her warm brown eyes danced with delight and her bright smile revealed how happy she was to be showing us this presentation. She had tied her hair back with a purple kerchief, and she was wearing a loose-fitting African dress made of the same purple cotton material.
I enjoyed April’s African dance performance–which involved rhythmic jumping, kicking, and arm shifting to the beat that her drummer was making. I would have been happy to continue sitting in my chair, observing this cultural experience. But that was not going to be an option. April was determined to make sure that each of us in the audience participated. As she explained each individual move of the dance–and what it meant, such as “gratefulness” or “reaching out to the community”–I followed along, making just enough effort to prove that I was participating. But when we all stood up and performed the dance from beginning to end, I realized that I was actually enjoying this experience. I was learning something new, and the other adults and I looked at each other and shared smiles.
After the dancing and the interactive story time, the children were called up to the front of the room and given African instruments to play, such as drums and shakers. A few minutes later, we adults were handed the rest of the instruments. Then we began to play in unison. I did my best to play my shaker to the right tempo, although it wasn’t a perfect performance.
April thanked us and explained that the point of this African dancing and drumming performance was to bring people together as a community. I hadn’t expected to interact with strangers in this way, but as I played my shaker and smiled at the other people in the room, I felt like I was, indeed, a part of a community.
