Oh the shame...

I have just got back from possibly the most cringeable evening I've had in the last 10 years. I don't know why I ever thought a dance class would be a good idea. I've never had any rhythm so why things would be any different with traditional African dance, I don't know.

There is a British intern in our regional office and she wanted to go and seemed like a fun idea. Oh god it was so painful though. I literally felt like my awkward 15 year old self again. We turned up at this big cultural centre and found ourselves in this open-air courtyard. There were a few people milling about and we asked if a dance class was happening and where we could change. By the time we'd faffed about finding toilets and getting changed, when we got back to the courtyard there were now about 20 people there.

20 extremely cool Senegalese people.

The men in baggy trousers, with dreadlocks and trendy t-shirst were setting up their drums in the centre and the women were just wandering about in leggings with mini skirts and revealing little tops. My friend and I on the other hand, were in tracksuits and t-shirts (mine was a particular classic one from work with some anti school violence message plastered across it). I can't begin to tell you how uncool we looked. It was so cringeable. We were the typical stereotype foreigners. We looked like such gimps and I haven't felt that out of place for years! I thought I was over all those feelings of being the geeky new girl wearing the wrong outfit, but clearly they can come back to haunt you!


We sat around for a while, waiting for the drumming to start. My friend tried to strike up a conversation with one of the guys (I, on the other hand became intensely interested in the small patch of concrete by my feet, hoping it would swallow me up). The conversation went something like:
'Hi, so is this the beginners' class?'
'Er, no, this is for the experts.'
'Oh, maybe we've made a mistake...'
'Oh know don't worry, you can just follow the steps. It's easy, if you can dance. You have danced before right?'


Knowing my dancing skills, I totally switched off at this point to avoid making myself feel even worse! Augustin, the teacher then came over and told us that one of the girls would take us through the steps while waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. So, there you have it. We had to get up and attempt this dance in the middle of the courtyard. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. Cringe, cringe, cringe.


Although to be fair, after about 10 mins of jumping about, I pulled myself together, realised that it didn't really matter if I was crap and that I am not a 15 year old teenager that needs to be bothered about looking ridiculous. Then I actually started to enjoy it! It was hard work though - a mixture of moves that included ones suspiciously resembling star jumps and squats. It was like a full-on aerobics class. My thighs were screaming in agony by the end. I am never going to be able to walk down stairs tomorrow...


After we got the hang of the routine, the others practised a dance. Totally incredible. The way they could move and literally throw their bodies around was mesmerizing. And they moved so fast. The speed of the drum beat just kept increasing and the speed of their moves with it. We were asked to join in for the bit we had learnt. Well, it was so fast I could hardly recognise it as the same dance. An hour of practise and our little bit was over in minutes!

'So you've got over your complex!', the teacher said to me with a smile at the end. 'See you again on Thursday'.

So, provided I can walk by Thursday, looks like I'll be going back for more after all.

This time minus the tracksuit.