The Yellow Belt. Mohamed has proudly graduated to a new level in karate. He gained this new status at a four hour presentation ceremony. It was certainly an experience for me, being relatively new to the karate experience itself. There was time to honor the masters who had come to judge the students and time to honor the teacher. There was time to allow all of the students to show what they had learned. (And with Nabih, there was time to check out the college soccer game going on in the field next door, as well as a basketball game on the court-worthy of a posting all its own.) The karate students came forward by school to present a series of moves and then again by rank to be judged for acceptance to a new level. The whole affair was a unique mixture of English and French and Chinese.
Mohamed took his karate very seriously, practicing the series of steps he would be required to perform. For days before the show, he would ask me if I wanted to see ‘tuck your shirt out.’ I gave him my full attention despite my confusion. Illumination came during the presentation when I heard the instructor give the commands,” Tak, Eshate, Aiea!”
It is a wonderful juxtaposition that I can afford karate lessons here in Kinshasa as I never could in America. Twice a week after school is a mere $30 per month. I must relate everything back to groceries because sometimes we just want something fun to eat. Pizza at $12 a slice means we are better off taking an extra class of karate. Or private dance lessons.
It is a wonderful juxtaposition that I can afford karate lessons here in Kinshasa as I never could in America. Twice a week after school is a mere $30 per month. I must relate everything back to groceries because sometimes we just want something fun to eat. Pizza at $12 a slice means we are better off taking an extra class of karate. Or private dance lessons.
Yes, I am finally learning the traditional dances of Congo and they are beautiful. My spirit could be wooed and captured by dance if it were more feasible to travel to the country and see it. I’m working up it. I’ve only just begun to drive in Kinshasa. The dangers of the bush should wait. For now I’ll just tuck my shirt out and have faith.
