I'm so happy to be here I could dance...oh wait, I am

There is so much to write about, but I’ve found that it’s easier to begin an update if I just describe my immediate environment. As always, I’ve got a drink next to me, peach tea with a sweetened condensed milk called Jago. We always have a full thermos of hot water in our dining room (which doubles as a classroom during the day) and despite the heat, we end up drinking lots of tea and coffee. Four of my classmates are practicing the guitar with a local Malian musician. We’re all sitting in the outdoor corridor of our house, a second floor balcony that in the daytime, would overlook the cement houses of our neighborhood and a backdrop of surprisingly green hills. Tonight though, we just hear crickets, a bass line from someone’s radio, and the occasional crying baby.

We’ve been in Mali for three days now, but time is a fluid and elusive concept. It’s pointless to wear a watch because nothing ever happens on time. We may have events planned for the day, but they happen as they happen. There are routines and patterns for the day, like meals being brought by a local family, balanced in three aluminum pots on their head, but for the most part, it’s best to ignore any expectations of promptness. (And I love this)

This culture is richer than I could ever imagine. I’m in somewhat of a mental fog right now. Every nuance of this place is so new and exciting that my brain is on overdrive as I try to absorb it all. I’m not even attempting to process the experiences yet; my senses seem raw from working so hard and it’s no surprise that we’re exhausted by night. As I write all this, I think that these posts will be a good way for me to reflect and understand this experience, but I’m sure I’ll draw upon these next three months for the rest of my life.

I’m not going to even attempt a chronological narrative of the past few days because it would require the length of novel. I’ll try to describe a particular experience or observation in each update and hopefully by the end of the semester, you’ll have a good understanding of life in Mali.

Every morning around 10:00, we walk fifteen minutes from our family compound to a one-room schoolhouse that has been converted into a dance studio. We walk in flip-flops along red dirt roads and alleys, passing by family courtyards and kids calling out “toubabou!” which means “foreigner.” We are of course a novelty in the community, but there is no sense of intimidation, only mild amusement.

We are greeted at the school by our instructors; three dancers that have been part of the National Ballet Company and three musicians to play the drums. Shoes and sandals are never worn indoors and we leave them outside and walk barefoot across the concrete floor (we're quickly building up our calluses). Local children peek through the windows, but are quickly shooed away by the adults. Michelle, our program director and instructor, leads us all in warm-ups that resembles yoga poses, but is moves in time with the drums. We already have sweat dripping off of our noses by the time we begin and by the end of the entire lesson, we’ll have consumed an entire 1.5 liter bottle of water to replace all the fluids we’ve lost. I feel somewhat amphibious.

I have never been part of a culture where music and rhythm has been so infused with everyday life. It seems like every Mali citizen is born with the ability to dance and move there hips. Americans, on the other hand, prefer to drape ourselves in self-consciousness. That was the first lesson of dance class, at least for me personally. I had to stop caring about how crazy I looked before I could learn any steps. And honestly, it wasn't too difficult to do because if I didn't try to dance, then I'd be the one to stick out. I kinda knew that I would enjoy this opportunity to dance, but I never anticipated how much I love our two hour sessions.

Dancing has, hands-down, been the most intense workout I've ever experienced. It requires endurance, flexibility, physical strength, and above all, mental prowess. It's not like running where you can zone out for miles on the road; here, your mind is working rapidly to process the visual cues of the leaders' steps and turn that into physical movement that has to be in time with the drums. I have so much respect now for dancers, as well as patience for our teachers. We're quickly making progress and I can only imagine what three months of this will do (we all have hopes of being absolutely ripped by December). And one of the best parts of dancing is the elation that occurs after the workout. I don't think I've felt so healthy and mentally clear in a long time. Perhaps it's all the sweat, but we feel purged and cleansed and I can think of no better way to start my day.

Well, maybe with some coffee and the NYT. But that's a few months off. And I can't play that game just yet (the "what are you craving/missing right now?" game).

I am ecstatic to be here and this experience has already exceeded all expectations.