Friday, August 1, 2008

All the World's a Stage... Life is a Cabaret....

No Bobby, I’m sorry I still haven’t seen this movie that will absolutely change my life (although if you want to send it over, I promise to devour it immediately upon all the elements of electricity, time and a working laptop coming into alignment!) and clearly still have some residual guilt about it nearly three years later..

This title came to me as I was enjoying another of the performances put on by the local children, that in my mind at least, occur just for me.

I was walking home from work one day when I looked through the doorway of a hut and saw a child sort of dancing and singing, doing the funny rubber legged dance that is common here, and looks completely obscene on adults (lots of thrusting pelvises, I now understand the initial reaction to Elvis. When you first see someone move in this particular manner it’s very difficult not to think about where the purpose of this movement could originate. That being said, these people sure do have rhythm…) and strangely adorable on children. He noticed me watching him, and began hamming it up even more. His brother walks by, looking at him strangely. The first boy points at me, the second boy sees me, and begins dancing to, now coming a bit out of the doorway into the yard. A third child (the one constantly calling my Kagiso… I know my hair is short but really…) wanders up, notices me and like Timon in the Lion King leaps into the dancing and singing. And so on. Most adults don’t pay a lot of attention to children here, much less a WHITE adult, and so they are very interested in my paying attention to them.
On my way to Simon’s house there is also a gaggle of children who perform for me, their particular act involves screaming my name and tearing across the yard singing, “Lorato, Lorato” and grabbing my hands. I have never given them anything other than a few pats on the head or hugs, and yet without fail, every time these children break into song and dancing at the sight of me.
How am I ever to come back to the states and walk down the street without this type of fanfare?

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