They said things like, “that’s a talented group of people you were with” and “it was entertaining,” which speaks volumes for what they didn’t say. And while I meant to smile and be a show person, it’s definitely something I am working on. The dance area was small, there were no blinding lights which could send me back to the rehearsals of my memory and the audience was quiet. I almost preferred the shouts of mondele.
But there was so much more to this performance than the actual show. The loveliest thing was getting ready. I was prepped, dressed and made-up by men. A ticklish turn around to the stereotypical female preening. As a fire warmed the drums, someone wrapped me in a raffia skirt and raked his hands through the tangles. I felt like a princess as beaded necklaces were draped over my head and across my chest. Various headwraps were tried and discarded, my dreds being a bit too fluffy on top to accommodate a wrap. The men prepared each other as well, applying face powder and painting on tribal markings. It’s always behind the scenes that holds the most flavor. I stood still with eyes closed and an upturned face as Dendu scooped up the red powder. I felt his hands pass across my cheeks and heard him exclaim in a whispered breath, “beautiful.” Since we were outside, there was no way to check my appearance but sometimes feeling it is all that’s needed. I was passed on to someone else who applied white dots across my face and down my arms. And then we waited.
Having spent 15 years in the restaurant business, I am well accustomed to enjoying the party from the fringe. I find it exactly satisfying, providing a sense of purpose and lifting all social pressure to engage in small talk with people I barely know while still allowing for a sense of festivity. So we sat outside, waiting for our cue and myself wishing the little Lingala I know was more at hand. We grew cold together out there in the cool breezes of a Kinshasa night in June. I laughed as I watched them become more animated, dancing and drumming on the bleachers in an effort to keep warm.
The truth of it being, these guys were amazing. Despite the quiet audience filled with cameras but little spirit, they exuded energy and ability. I am honored to have had the chance to be part of their group and while, I vow, should I get a “next time” I’ll smile more, have more fun, be less terrified, I still have those moments before hand etched in my mind like a magical memory. A soft pressure against my cheeks, a whisper of beautiful in the night air. Exactly how it feels to be dancing.
