DAY TWO AND THREE

DAY TWO

So I got a ride today, due to the implosion of a local landmark. My host family wanted to be no where near the dust cloud due to asthma problems, so they left early to go take in a 10am movie in a suburb. I got to campus, did my yoga, and conditioning class, which readied me for the challenge of a professional rigor dance practice. The combination of Urban Bush Women teachers Amora, Chanon, and Jawole herself made for an interesting foray into an African-based movement, which I tamely attempted with my limited exposure and facility. Then came for the meat of the day, The People's Institute, a three person team that leads groups through anti-racism  training. With its rules of engagement covenant, we were to open our minds, hearts and break out of the boxes of institutions, systems and ideologies, explore a power analysis, and a discussion of gatekeepers, that gave me a few aha moments and one which surprised me to tears. How every race is dehumanized by these constructs, and how our language in how we speak about and think about the poor is so important in framing our stereotypes, expectations and vision for the least of these. The dinner break brought a quick trip to a middle eastern restaurant to-go and a surreal conversation with a Bay Area dancer, who ends up being married to a grade school dancing friend from Omaha! The dance world is a small world after all! Then we gathered to have a time called altar/ancestor, where a small item, story, dance or performance piece was shared, I was nervous to figure out what I wanted to share, as I didn't really know what the nature of this would be like. The 2 minute snippets of information gleaned and celebrated, recalled or recited, was at times hilarious, quixotic and tearful---but all artful. I still ponder what I will share on next installment. A late but full day.

DAY THREE

Today's agenda was reconfigured so as to take in what is called a “Second Line” or jazz funeral procession of a local icon, Uncle Lionel, a drummer. I decided to sleep in, call my husband, and hoof it up Royal St to catch the St Charles line and take the bus back to a point from which we would join  the festivities. Hot and humid, I sweated thru my shirt easily in the first 15 minutes of my day, and probably walked, danced, skootched along for a mile or so with the crowd, fanning myself and others,  following the bad's drums, brass, tambourines, costumes, shenanigans and rituals in a loop following the casson (4 horses, a carriage hauling the casket), and various relatives  like a parade. It was awesome! And found a 12 inch shrimp poboy to bring home to feast upon with other dancers was a reward for the journey. It is a strangely wonderful dichotomy that grieves and rejoices so readily, as only New Orleanians know how to do. The rest of the day was spent in the intense climax and conclusions of The People's Institute, raising awareness and challenging definitions about race and ending with singing, (as is often the way utilized by UBW in assembling the group that things are about to start). A rousing Hollywood shuffle ensued, during the birthday song of Stevie Wonder, which was a powerfully joyous way to end so rich a day. Tomorrow the site specific gathering and dancemaking begins.