I know it's been a bit since I last wrote - I've been sick and just really not wanting to function. Yesterday and Tuesday were spent entirely at the house, so it was quite uneventful (you didn't miss anything!) (except, of course, some of the craziest thunderstorms).

On Sunday we went to Novotel, the nicer hotel in town that has a swimming pool. It was packed - I didn't do any swimming, but sat out on the grass and enjoyed watching the couple hundred kids frolic around. It would be nice to swim, but I don't think I'll be going on any more Sundays - it was so hectic. Maybe during the middle of the week I can go and do some laps. That was the first day I got sick - by the middle of the afternoon my head was pounding and my throat started closing up - by Monday I was totally sick.

DESPITE THE SICKNESS, I went to Ivuka to see the kids dance. Wow. "What a day." Collin told me to come at 2, cause that's when the kids started rehearsal. I arrived at 2:15, and the kids weren't there yet (the whole Africa time thing is slowly becoming clear). Collin was painting, along with four other guys. I sat and watched them work on their pieces for about 45 minutes - it was fun listening to them. They're all in their 20s, and spoke a mix of Kinya, Swahili, French, and English. Needless to say I didn't really understand, but I felt like I was one of the cool kids, hanging out in the little trendy artists' spot. They were all so greatly talented - I'll try to get some pictures of the guys and what they're working on in the next couple of days.

There were two girls sitting with me, about 8 or 10 years old, and we tried to talk. I would point to something (like my nose) and they would supposedly say it in Kinyarwanda, only I feel like they said 3 or 4 words at once. Something like "and" will be something like "mbuyamkaygi." There are so many syllables in each word, it's very hard to just say and repeat. I don't think I remember anything they told me, but we had a good time, making hand gestures and laughing with each other. Eventually kids started filing in, and they all sort of stared at me, like "why is this random white girl sitting here?"

Actually, Collin said something interesting to me - I mentioned how the kids stare and me, and I said,
"They just stare at me and I know they think I am crazy."
"No," he goes, "that's just what white people think we're thinking. The kids are just interested in you, and they don't have any shame about that." It just kind of made me realize how I quickly turned their staring into some negative toward me. This is a mess of a paragraph. Let's end it.

ANYWAY, as the kids started gathering, a thunderstorm promptly broke out, and we all ran into the two room studio for shelter (please note, at this point there were about 30 kids, 8 guys, and me). It was packed and warm, but it was fine. The kids started singing and playing games, and I had a long conversation with one of the artists - Jean Bosco. It was nice to talk to someone new. As soon as the rain stopped (maybe 40 minutes?) the kids all got out brooms and started sweeping the water into the street drains (I know there's a word for this) and pretty soon everyone was back outside, dancing, singing, joking around, laughing ... still no rehearsal though. I didn't want to say anything - I felt like it would be presumptuous, but I had been there for about 2 hours already, basically just loitering. After a while, when the moment seemed right, I, very nonchalantly, said to Bosco, "So are the kids dancing today?" Of course this had the exact effect I was wishing against, he goes, "Oh, you want to see them?" and starts yelling at all the kids to get together. Great.

They were fantastic. The trainer (a beautiful 17 year old girl) was one of the most graceful, regal dancers I had ever seen. The Inganzo dance is (from what I've perceived) about cows - the way the kids V their arms out over their heads symbolize the horns of the cow. Every move and position has a meaning, Collin would tell me something here and there, but he's always doing thirty things at once. The kids were joking around all day, Collin kept yelling at them to be serious; he said they weren't "good" that day. There was one little boy, maybe 10 years old, who was doing the drumming the whole time- beating on a giant bongo with two thick sticks. Everyone dance for over and hour and he never stopped keeping the rhythm. Also, whoever is not dancing is singing. The girls were graceful and fluid, the boys were much more active and aggressive. Anyway, a video is worth a million words.

When they were done dancing, Collin stands up (with no warning) and starts going off in Kinyarwanda, and then points to me and says "Carolina" and all the kids yell "CAROLINA!!" I start to get nervous, and ask Collin what he said.
"Just that you are here to teach them ballet, and to make you feel welcome" he says. They're all smiling at me, and then Collin goes,
"And now she will do a demonstration," and pushes me to the plateau of the stairs, so that I am on a stage in front of a group of 40 kids and guys. Can you say MORTIFIED? I had no idea what to do. There were so many smiling faces looking up at me, though, and they had just danced their little hearts out (with no shame at all) so I could hardly bear to disappoint. I swallowed my pride and made up a little dance. "Dance" is pushing it - I basically did a nice developpé (running one leg up the other, extending it out) and turned it into an arabesque, a plonche (a deep reach down from arabesque), a turn, and some quick jumps. Man, did they eat it up. They were most impressed with my pointed toes, and mauled me trying to show off their feet and were they pointing them right?

It was great. They were so interested and fascinated, and kept asking me to show them more steps. The trainer came to me, and in very broken English asked me if she could come take classes. It was very humbling, and incredibly encouraging to see such enthusiasm. More to come.