Finally, OUR (migrating) Dundunba!

Ever since we first heard of the trip to Guinea, one of the selling points has been having our own dundunba at the end of the trip. Well, the appointed day finally arrived! Our dundunba was scheduled for Saturday afternoon. The actual location, like the masks Wally discussed in a previous post, seemed to be a secret – it changed periodically during the week, and even during the party itself. We started at our home. About 2 pm we were told the scheduled time was 4 pm, so we all began preparing, donning our African gear, and at 4 we were ready to dance. But no one really started arriving until about 6 pm – something we are pretty accustomed to by now (and none of us really expected anyone at 4). Once people started arriving, things picked up quickly, though. A drumming corps set up along the side wall of the patio and began a rhythm, and dancers got up and did some traditional steps. People were getting into it and more people were arriving, many of whom we recognized from previous dundunbas we have attended and from Sekou’s ballet company.

Just when it seemed like things were going, the band picked up their drums and headed towards the gate. One of the members, djembe slung over his shoulder, said to me “Let’s go to the dundunba.” I thought “isn’t that where we are?” But apparently the word had come down from wherever the mysterious place is that words come down from here in this magical land that the dundunba was moving over to the center of Conteya, our neighborhood. So we followed along, walking in a long line down the street to the corner where we often catch taxis, then along the road that heads towards the ocean for a half block to a small paved pad on the side of the road. Plastic chairs were set up in a circle, and the drummers set up in the front. Again, they began beating a rhythm.

The Americans took seats at the back of the circle. Several of us looked warily around to see who was going to select the dancers, as we wanted to avoid his/her eyes. Many in our group don’t mind getting out and dancing but are starting to feel as though the Americans are “on display” and people laugh at us when we dance. Personally, I don’t believe that is true (although I am one who has steadfastly avoided dancing in these affairs) – I think people want us to dance because to them, dancing is the joy of life and they want everyone to share in it. They do laugh when Americans dance, and often our steps are not as intricate as theirs and perhaps do not display the virtuosity most dancers at dundunbas have, but I don’t think the audience is laughing at Americans who dance, I believe they are filled with joy and happy to see Americans participating in their culture, even if it is in an unrefined way.

Once again, the beat got going and the dancers were taking turns showing their stuff. A crowed gathered along the side of the road to watch. Our dance instructor Sali, decked out in an African dress and scarf, took some of the Americans out and they performed some of the sequenced steps she had taught during our dance class. The crowd loved this. One-by-one the Americans dropped out and went back to their seats, as did Sali, but Gene and David, the two members of our group who have been most dedicated to the dance classes, stayed out there and continued the steps for awhile. Finally, the leader came out and swept them off, to the crowd’s approval, and others went and did their individual dances.

Yet again, though, just as we were getting started… Suddenly, a pick-up pulled up and a man got out. The rhythm quickly stopped. A large crowd gathered around the drums, and in the style we have become accustomed to watching from the sidelines, about 40 or 50 people heatedly discussed matters, while we wondered what was happening. Then Olu came over and told us we were moving back to the house. Apparently the local officials did not approve of this spontaneous party, and shut it down.

Again, we moved to the house in a long line. Some tired of this moving around and left, but most people went back to the house, and once again, the drummers took up the beat. Dancers jumped up, kicked up their feet and sat down, and people began having a good time once again. Seku and Ballake took up the lead spots in the combo for awhile, then other drummers came in and soloed. People sat around the circle in plastic chairs, while others gathered in the gazebo opposite the drummers. The leader went around with a handkerchief selecting dancers. Some of the Americans took turns with dance solos.

I was taking pictures and went up to the balcony off of our living room, on the second floor overlooking the patio. Gene was on the balcony taking photos as well. We saw rain clouds forming off to the north. Then, the wind picked up and the palm tree across the street began blowing. Finally, the rains arrived. The dancers and drummers continued until the rain got harder, then they moved into the covered patio in front of the house where the staff here stays. After a few more dances, everyone gave up and called it a night.

Probably not what we had envisioned for our big party, but many of the friends we have made came by and performed, and the dances and outfits made this cultural experience fun to watch, and for some, fun to participate in. The drummers here feel they belong to a large brotherhood, and some have told us they believe we are entering that group. For at least one evening, we could feel like we were a part of the talented corps of Guinean djembe players.