korite (le deuxieme)

The evening of Korite was wild. Julie's 18 year old host sister, Montou, invited us to a Korite party, and we eagerly accepted since we had nothing else to do. It didn't begin until midnight, though, so we wasted the remaining time getting dolled up in our traditional Senegalese digs, right down to the head wraps and then going to Baobab 3000 for liquid refreshments. In a happy coincidence, we ran into Alisa on our walk and recruited her for the evening party as well.

At 12:30 or so, we showed up at the specified street. It was freaking amazing. There was an enormous circle of people, with a large space in the center. At one end of the circle was a group of 10 or 15 drummers frantically playing their drums. One of them was a complete badass and had a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth while his hands moved like something out of "The Matrix."

As if the drumming itself weren't impressive enough, there was dancing as well. Oh man, was there dancing. Women would jump out from the crowd and run up the circle until they were practically in with the drummers and then they'd go crazy. They kicked up to their chins, swung their arms like windmills, jumped and stomped - all the while holding their tops up and their hair somehow unmussed. It was insane. We were some of the only toubabs there, and I had the irrational fear that some mean kid would shove me into the circle, where I would lift my foot to kick and then die of embarrassment. Luckily, nothing of the sort happened and we watched the drumming and dancing for at least an hour.

But apparently the kick-ass dance fest. in the street wasn't the party, and bossy Montou decided she wanted to go into the party itself. We followed, figuring she hadn't led us astray yet. So we paid the 1000 CFA and walked into what should have been the party. It wasn't. There was a grand dance floor and the music was thumping, and there wasn't a soul dancing. Everyone was lined up in chairs along the walls. We grabbed chairs for ourselves, and then just sat for at least 45 minutes, waiting for the place to fill up. It slowly did, and people reluctantly began to dance, but neither Julie, Alisa or I had the guts to try to replicate the intricate foot work and arm movements the women were doing. Instead, we continued to sit and just watch. That was perfectly acceptable to me, except that I began to get really, really tired. Without much convincing, the others agreed to go.

Before going home, though, we stopped at a patisserie and each of us got a donut. They were way too sweet and heavy, especially at 4 am, but we ate them anyway and laughed about feeling sick. By the time I got home I was positive I would simply collapse outside of my doorway, but luckily I made it into my room before passing out.

The final verdict? Korite is awesome as long as you find a street dance party to attend.