Happy New Year everyone! After spending a fun Christmas with volunteers, I decided to spend New Years in Djohong. I remembered my last New Years there fondly and figured that this time would only be better since a) I now know people who will be at the party and b) I know the structure of these parties so it's unlikely that there will be any surprises. In preparation I had a new pagne (African fabric) outfit made and asked a friend to braid my hair. I happily received the invitation that I had given 3,000 cfa for and read the time it would start. 10:00. Ouch. Way past my bedtime, but then I remembered that it was New Years and if there was ever a day to get over my newfound lameness it was tonight since it was actually a kind of obligation to stay up till midnight. Fair enough, I figured that I could manage that, but just in case I got ahold of several large coca-colas for the necessary caffeine.
I arrived at the building a little late, knowing that there was no way it would start on time. There was a good number of people already there but everyone was standing outside. Nobody wanted to be the first person to walk in the door, which was kind of amusing. I joined a few friends and stood there with them for a bit, but eventually got fed up. I was cold and very hungry so I decided to take the leap and enter the building. The second I walked in I was ushered to a seat that was suppose to be mine for the remainder of the night. So, if you arrive with anybody its not guaranteed that you would sit with them. In fact its actually unlikely. I'm not sure how the assigned seating works, it might be random, but I was seated next to a large speaker and a nice man that I didn't know very well. Fortunately a good friend of mine, a teacher at the school, was seated on the other side of the monstrous speaker. We attempted to make conversation while pointedly ignoring the blaring Cameroonian/ Nigerian music coming from between us. Eventually, by 11:15 the food was set up. You get food according to where you sit, and I was seated in the area that got there food last. So I sat there staring anxiously at the table holding the food, making sure that there would be enough for a American-size portion plate. My friend kept glancing at me and laughing, repeating patience over and over. I smiled thinking about what it would be like for them to be thrown into New York City where "patience" quickly becomes "hurry up" potentially with a slight shove for emphasis.
Once I ate a plate that put many of my neighbor's plates to shame, I felt much better and was ready for the night. Speeches were made by the authorities in the village and the Mayor walked onto the dance floor with a champagne bottle. Surrounded by everyone either shouting "No! 3 minutes!" or "Now! Now!" he took the situation into his own hands and deicded to just pop it open. Everyone leaped up, grabbing their tiny plastic cups (like for rinsing out toothpaste) that was given when you walked in the door, and headed for the bottle, hugging ppl along the way. Once everyone drank their gulp of champagne, more sincere hugs were given to all and everyone sat down in their seats again.
This part of the night is always funny to me. The dread in the air is almost tangible as the man holding the piece of paper walks out onto the floor. That piece of paper had names written on it that would be the ones to initiate the dance floor. I kind of hunched over, subconsciously trying to hide myself. The names were read and thankfully I was not one of the poor individuals heading out onto the floor. They call random people, 3 guys and 3 girls, pair them up and they have to dance in front of everyone for 30 seconds before anyone else can join. It is truly a miserable tradition that nobody enjoys, I really don't know why it still exists.
Anyway, once that passed, the night began. I was dragged onto the floor for almost every song. After a song ended, I'd plop down and take a gulp from my drink, breathing a little heavy. Dancing here is a bit bizarre, I still don't know what I'm doing. The man does moves that look like the most basic salsa steps, and moves his arms a bit sometimes. The girl is suppose to stay in this tiny area, barely moving her feet, bouncing her shoulders a bit and moving her arms as if she's running in slow motion. That's at least how I interpret the dancing in the Adamawa, it is different in every region. However, dancing like this is exahusting and I really have trouble staying in my little assigned space. It seems that my dancing partners were ok with that though, so all is good.
At one point in the night, I plop down and instantly my ears perk up. I knew this song.... oh yea, I definitely knew this song. Barbie Girl. Barbie Girl was playing at the party in the African bush. Very bizarre. As I was trying to process this, a man grabs my arm and pulls me onto the floor. I quickly recognized two things, that one- we were the only ones on the floor and it didn't seem as if anyone planned on joining, and two- that I was the only white girl, a blond haired blue eyed girl, dancing to Barbie Girl. Not ok. I wanted to say that one this was discrimination and two that nobody actually dances to Barbie Girl. At least not since the 90s or something. But I just went with it, made some dance moves up and tried to make the situation less awkward. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one that recognized how weird this was. Two of my guy friends grabbed a girl and joined me after around a minute of my solo dancing. You know you have good friends when they voluntarily join you to dance to Barbie Girl.
I succeeded in staying up late, well past midnight in fact. It ended up being a great party and a lot of fun. A perfect way to welcome in the new year, with new friends, drinks, food, and lots of dancing. Ideal. I hope that everyone's New Years was awesome as well, send me some stories! Miss everyone!
