Walking up a staircase in the 1960’s era Palais de Peuple,
past a restroom smelling strongly of urine, I was jittery with excitement. I
was about to watch a rehearsal for the Ballet Africaine de Guinee and even if
they fell short of my expectations, I knew I was going to be wowed. I stepped
onto the wings of the stage. There was a beautiful drop painted with images of
the Guinean countryside. The stage lights were on gelled with warm oranges and
yellows. I was hit all of the sudden with a sense of homecoming. For people
reading this blog who don’t know me, I spent practically my whole college
career in theaters and don't think I’ve gone 6 months without going into one-
for a rehearsal or to see a play – since my mom started subscribing to Valley
Forge Music Fair’s Summer Children’s Theater series at age 4. We (I was with 2
other volunteers and our country director’s husband) were seated on a set of
couches at the edge of the stage and watched the director meticulously work
with the actors as they marked through the piece. The intricate patterns of
placement changes only heightened our excitement to see them dance it out for
real. After about 30 minutes, they apologized for making us watch that and then
started a run of part of their piece. I alternately cried, laughed, and sat
with my mouth hanging wide open. It captured the spirit of Guinea- the frenetic
market to the calm of a rice field at dawn. The dancers were physical and
joyful. They were of all ages, shapes, and sizes. There were traditional
musicians who would take center stage at parts of the ballet and with just
themselves and their instrument would command the space like nobody I have ever
seen. It was pure joy. These artists cannot regularly perform in Guinea. There
is no market for it. They only get paid when there is some money coming in from
people like me paying to see a rehearsal. They are artists because for them
performing is living. They used to tour the US, but the last time a few of the
dancers violated the terms of their visas and overstayed their welcome, so to
speak, in the US. Because of this, I am one of the lucky few who have gotten to
see them perform. I’ll post pictures as soon as I can. This was a happy
reminder that anyone who says that the performing arts are not powerful could not
be more wrong.
So in the morning I was amazed by the beautiful spirit of
Guineans; by the afternoon my joy was tempered. As I prepared to travel back to
Kindia, we got put on travel restriction. In Mamou (where we all just were for
IST) a gendarme (soldier) asked a taxi driver for a 2000 GF bribe (<30
cents). It is terribly commonplace, but for whatever reason the taxi driver
decided that he had had enough and argued with the gendarme. The gendarme took
out a gun and shot him in the head at point blank range. I was at a wedding a
few months ago where the groom found out that his grandfather had died the
morning of the wedding. He said “Avec la joie, il y a toujours la tristesse.”
With joy, there is always sadness. At the time, I was thinking, well that’s a
truly morbid outlook on life. After the day I had, it’s hard not to start
thinking that way in this country. I’ll keep you posted, but right now I have
the feeling that joy is still winning.
If you are interested in reading more about the crime: http://www.bbc.co.uk/afrique/region/2012/06/120605_guinee_shooting.shtml
No comments:
Post a Comment