Midnight Dance Marathon

I recently attended what I consider an African Dance Marathon, and I regret to report that I could not keep up. The occasion was in honor of a mere 3 month old, the son of my friend and fellow kindergarten teacher, Justina, for his community “coming out” party. Months ago Justina asked me what the names were of the men in my family, I told her “Sean” and “Patrick”. She took a liking to Patrick, but failed to inform me until after the baby was born that her son now has my father's namesake. Therefore this 'coming out' became slightly more personal and attendance was required.

The afternoon of the party we made our way to the next village over to a church hut deep in the bush, far from a river, borehole or any other people . However, the large clearing was perfect for the dance circle. Apparently afternoon time was far too early, upon arrival I was informed the mother and baby would not arrive until 11 pm and the dancing would begin at midnight. So we waited around the fire and ate. The meal was a plate full of fried worms (dislike), cow stomach (dislike), warmed porridge drink with sugar (like) and fat cakes (like).

yummy worms

the drinks for the evening

Post cow stomach, things got even weirder.

We all gathered in a circle, the women wearing white and yellow and me wearing red and black, obviously I have no clue of the dress code. Tradition says women cover their hair and go barefoot once in the dance circle. I forgot a wrap and no one had an extra so my only option was the shower cap someone lent me...and then the dancing began. In a circle there were the men on one side, women on the other with the head leaders in the middle with candles and drums chanting and leading the songs and dance. They would start the twirling within the circle in a very rhythmic motion combined with noises I am not sure how to explain in writing. People from the circle joined in. I did not because everyone gawks at everything I do, plus I was wearing a weird shower cap. This chanting, singing and dancing went on for 10 straight hours. From about 2 am to 4 am I really got into it; it was dark, I was deliriously tired and thought what the hell—so I sang loud to Thimbukushu lyrics I didn't know and danced my face off. At around 4 am I crapped out and went to sleep in a random tent til sunrise. When I woke up with drums pounding next to my tent, the group was still dancing with as much gusto as when I went to bed.

so much dust from the dancing

While all of this was happening Justina and her baby were hidden in a hut next to the church. This event is not just the dancing and spiritual aspect to bring luck to the baby, it is also a huge money raiser. People put money in a collection bowl the whole night and morning, and the mother does not come out until there is enough to buy Patrick a cow. Owning a cow means you have something of worth, gives them an investment for the future. One cow costs 2,000 Namibian dollars, which takes a long time to accrue when people are putting in 5 dollar coins at a time. Therefore, her expected 7 am grand showing turned into 11 am. I was pisssssseeeed! At 11 am, once we reached the goal amount, she didn't just walk out, she was escorted out by a crew of singing women that were covering her with a beautiful cloth to bring her to the center of the circle. Once in the circle's center, still covered, people were asked to pay a dollar to peek under the cloth to see little baby Patrick. So an hour more singing and dancing while we all took peaks.

Just before I was going to call it a day and go home to sleep for 12 hours the baby was revealed, Simba style, just like on Pride Rock from 'The Lion King'. I was glad to experience such a traditional (and bizarre) event and like to think that it also shows the union community members feel towards each other, to dance for 10 straight hours to bring a baby luck..and if all goes well, a nice, fat cow.

Justina and Patrick