Dancing in the name of

My one year anniversary was the 21st of September. One year since I arrived in Senegal, had a thermometer shoved in my ear to check and make sure I didn't have Ebola and landed my feet in the hot, and tropical climate that is Senegal. Most people might get sentimental at this point, reminiscing about all the things they've learned about themselves, about their work partners, family members, etc. and about what they are looking forward to in the 14 months to come. I too, might have written such a post if Tacko had decided not to have a dance party in my honor. It was a few days before the big Senegalese holiday when I went over to her house for something and she told me that in a few days "we are going to dance and play." I asked her what for and she answered, "for Halima". Not knowing exactly what that meant (maybe another slip up of my Bambara language skills) I sort of put that into the back filing cabinet of my brain. Later I asked Raki what she meant and why they were going to dance. "To make you happy," she said, and happy I was made.

It was organized for Sunday afternoon but when Tacko came over only a few other women showed up because they were still busy greeting people for the holiday. It was suggested that they do it after dinner (a time when many of you know I hit the sack and read). I decided I could probably stay up for an hour or so and watch the women dance. So during dinner women from my village came filing in, dressed to the nines, and with hollowed out gourd bowl and baignoire of water at the ready the dancing begun. They sang my name, and danced their hearts out. One woman, Sambura, about 80 years old, sang her heart out, orating my name and my redeemable qualities as a human (toubab) and as a worker. Singing in then name of Halima Fofana the women danced together, danced apart, and shook their booties until sweat was dripping off their foreheads and onto the ground. It was fantastic. I joined them in my hideous attempts at dancing Senegalese style, and I laughed, smiled and occasionally hooted my praise at their amazing moves and incredible energy. The greatest part about this celebration was just that, their energy and their celebration. The focus, at least for me, was on the women and the way their bodies move to the beat of the gourd and the pleasure they get out of dancing.