Monday, November 25, 2013

There are no interruptions

My very last night with my host family. It was very significant and very insignificant in different ways. Significant because it was the last night I would officially be contracted to live with them. They had been such good hosts and I found it hard to properly express myself with my broken Wolof bumblings. This last night would somehow represent the cumulation of all I've experienced with them so far. Insignificant because I will actually be installing one kilometer away from them. I will see them often and hopefully eat many more beautifully cooked cheb u gens and ginard frites with them. So despite this "just like any other night" night we did fortunately get to have a great conclusion to CBT together by going to the church concert in which my mom was singing. 

It was supposed to start at 10 but it didn't actually get going until 11. It was SO loud. But weirdly I enjoyed it SO much. At first my senses were overloaded by the dust filling my chest, the stench of burning trash devastating my nostrils, and the deafening screech of feedback from the mics. Once the music started though it was easy to be overcome by what I was seeing and hearing. The rhythms sounded like something straight out of The Lion King. The only other way I can think to describe what I heard is beautiful elevator, gospel, stomp, and acapella-esque. Which brings me to the title of this post. During the singing, many people from the audience were coming up to the singers, the choir director, and the musicians to put scarves on them. People were totally interrupting the show and distracting the performers in this way. But that's how it went. For the whole concert. People would dance, cheer, and holler as if they were just as much a part of the performance. I've never seen such a rich example of Senegalese culture. There are no interruptions. Everyone's time is shared. 

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