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LEARNING THE DANCES
As a grand total, I learned five ballets, fifteen songs, and a handful of rhythms on the djembe. Almost all of this was outside the official rehearsals. In my six-week internship period, we had perhaps six rehearsals, which lasted up to two hours each. Obviously, this was not enough. I had several unofficial rehearsals and the other dancers quickly got to enjoy teaching me on-the-spot moves, testing how fast I could pick something up, or how complicated of steps I could learn just from watching. Even during official rehearsals I spent most of my time off to the side with another one or two dancers, who would be teaching me something separate from the group. It is because of this that I owe so much and am so grateful for the willingness of each and every troupe member to teach me. They would offer, or I would ask, about the steps to a certain dance, or the words to a song. Even right before or after a show late at night I could call someone if I felt like learning how to play djembe or start a new ballet– which was especially useful considering it was too hot during the afternoon to do much dancing. Several times I visited the women’s houses with my computer to record songs so I wouldn’t forget the tunes or pronunciation.
It was frustrating at first to get used to the way the troupe members would teach me. Before a rehearsal, they’d tell me that the ground was full of pebbles and shells, was I sure I could go barefoot? I replied that none of the other dancers wore shoes. They asked if I worked out every day or played sports, assuring me that it was hard work dancing and I would be tired. I knew that, and carefully avoided telling them that the only kind of exercise I ever get is walking to and from school or home. I knew it would be difficult. I was stubborn. I made a point of going barefoot starting the first day and not stopping to take a drink of water until the others did. For the five weeks I was dancing, there were blisters on my feet, and one of the most important things I learned was how to dance anyway. Through all of this, several of the men would tell me constantly how impressed they were, what a good job I was doing, and how quickly I was learning. The others wouldn’t hesitate to point out the slightest fault I was making, insisting that I memorize the steps right away.
There was a complete change that happened between the rehearsal itself and the time immediately before or after. While I was learning the dances, I would get frustrated because if I didn’t remember something they would say it was because I wasn’t concentrating hard enough. They insisted that if I paid attention properly, I would learn it the first time. Even if it was the first time I would do a step, they would point out every single thing I was doing wrong, stopping me after just seconds to correct me. On the walk home, though, they would try comfort me, saying that I was doing a great job, and that learning these dances takes time. After a while, though, I got used to the different teaching styles, and realized that it was just a different vocabulary rather than a lack of patience.
The hardest part for me was figuring out whether to follow the men or the women when we danced as a group. The simplest answer is obvious- I should watch the other girls, which is exactly what everyone told me to do. And for the most part, I did. Several of the ballets had different parts for the men and women, and it was easier to copy the girls’ movements. However, when everyone was doing the same steps, it was always the men that were perfectly sharp and accurate in their movements, while the girls had a hard time staying together. At least one would be on the wrong foot, and each dancer had her own style. Because of this it was easier to pick up the exact steps from the men, even though they would always tell me to watch the women.
I realized this the most after speaking with a British audience member who found me the day after a performance near the beginning of my third week. He told me that watching me, I was a more formal dancer than the others, but because of that he understood the dance. I explained that since I was just learning, I didn’t have my own personal style to put in, and was concentrating on just doing the steps while all the girls felt comfortable enough to improvise. What I didn’t tell him was how they were regularly told to concentrate on being more uniform and staying together during performances. This posed a small problem- to fit in with the women, I’d have to do what they did, which was not put so much effort into doing the steps perfectly. To fit in with the group, I’d have to do what the men were trying to get the women to do. In theory, we were all supposed to be together and uniform. Instead, I often had to choose between fitting in with the men or the women dancers.
This also translated into rehearsal and performances, where long after it was time to start the women would be sitting around while the men were warming up or starting to practice. I wanted to be on time, and work hard, and learn the dances! As soon as Salif or Abdoulaye told me it was time to start, I got to my feet. As soon as Maimouna saw me get to my feet, she’d tell me to sit down, the girls were tired, we’d wait a while before starting to dance. Samba was constantly telling the girls when to get into costume, start singing, start warming up. The girls would shout back that they were tired and he (the leader of the troupe!) should mind his own business. At first I was frustrated. After all, even Samba stressed that I needed to hang out with the girls and learn from them, but it was only the guys that were interested in practicing or teaching me new steps. Even among themselves, the girls sat and played with their phones, not talking, while the men would warm up. It was much easier to talk to the guys at first. After a while though, not only did the women start being more active, but I also realized that sometimes it was worth sacrificing a little work ethic to sit with the girls, even if we didn’t end up doing anything. It was part of “fitting in”- as much as I could, that is.
WHAT THE TROUPE DOES
At this point I would like to further explain exactly what it is that the Troupe Allah Lake does. Primarily, there are shows at 9:30pm at the hotel Paletuviers on average about three times a week. For those shows, the troupe members arrive around 9pm (officially, that is. I was always the first one to arrive, and I’d go over dance steps off to the side while waiting for the others to get there) We performed outside, in a space specifically laid out for us with a flat dusty, sandy dance floor and benches for the audience. The show includes two or three ballets, lots of drumming and dancing and singing, and usually fire. Sometimes a cloth will get put down with a pile of broken glass on it that one of the troupe members can dance on, and sometimes another male dancer sticks nails up his nose and chews razor blades. (It is somewhat difficult to write academically on this topic.) Often the dances we would perform wouldn’t be decided until moments before the drummers started playing, and often the drummers would decide without consulting the dancers, so we would have to listen at first to figure out which ballet we were going to perform and then quickly figure out placement of where we were going to stand before the rhythmic cue to start singing.
I got used to surprises during the shows, like the first time they danced on glass, or walked out on stilts. There was also a wedding ceremony we performed for a couple on their honeymoon, where Samba called himself the village griot and gave speeches, assigned two dancers as the parents of the couple and they also gave speeches about how they had known the husband since he was born, how they had watched the bride grow into a beautiful young woman- all of it improvised. We all shared kola nuts and did the whole traditional ceremony, as part of that night’s show, because the couple had requested it. That gave me a lot to think about regarding the role of the performer and the audience. I was also told that the troupe had done pieces of theatre too, but didn’t perform those very often anymore.
During the hotel shows, often members of the community, friends of the artists, etc would come stand behind the audience and watch too. There were also community performances (for example on the 4th of April and for the anniversary of the radio station in Soucouta) and more private shows (for example, for a party at one of the campements). The same dances we performed for the tourists we performed for the community. There was no façade during a show- the dances and also the extra tricks were exactly what people saw. Even for tricks like eating fire there was no cheating, I later found out. Everyone saw the same show. I’m not sure why that surprised me as much as it did.