Doundounba
Doundounba; a dance I’ve always resisted. At this evening’s dance class, we did Doundounba. Pam, our gifted dance teacher reminded us that it is a dance from the Mande people of Guinee. It’s a dance traditionally done by men and it’s a dance of great strength. I also remember that if there’s a celebration, Doundounba is sure to be danced. This dance of strength; it never, ever felt right in my body.
“Chazak. Chazak. V’nitchazek” is a phrase that can be interpreted as “Strength. Strength. And we will be strengthened.” When reading from the Torah, when each of the five books is finished, the entire congregation exclaims these words in Hebrew. On Saturday, the book of Exodus ended. These words of strength were recited around me and echoed through me.
What does strength mean? I have heard others use the word about me and I get confused. What does it mean for me and to me now? Am I undergoing a test of some sort of strength? Is my vulnerability a strength? Is living with such agony a strength? What about simply being able to function in the midst of a most devastating loss? I weep, sometimes I wail. And occasionally amidst the flood, I know that I literally need to change the channel that I’m listening to, for a shift in my internal music.
I notice the dancers before me, and while they were doing the very manly, strong steps, they were at the same time, dancing with such grace. One dear friend remarks how much fun it was. How could this possibly be? Some steps were coming to me with more openness. There was one with fancy footwork that I truly fumbled. I realized that this dance is my life. All of this is a reflection of my life. Grace, fortitude, fumbling and fun. I never did get that particular step. There will be other chances.
I reflect on the three powerful words. I’m sure that much has been written about these words. I love the “we” part and at the same time, I wonder. Could “we” be the different parts of myself? Is it my family and me? The community and me? The culture? My ancestors? Those yet to come? Maya and me?
The photo above is of a class led by Abdoulaye Sylla in Kingston, June of 2015. He left us in July. May his memory be a blessing
Yes, we are strengthened. We are strengthened by our losses, our triumphs, our failures, our tears, our fragility- ironically enough -and by each other, by the web of support that carries us, by each other’s strength when our own is not enough. All of the parts of you form one of these networks of strength and your stronger parts rally when other parts of you need to be weak. Your family does the same. And your community as well.
I am honored to be part of that community. I will lend you any strength I have when your own is not enough. By so doing my own strength is increased! What a beautiful miracle that is!
Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek.
Love,
Bonnie
Thank you Bonnie. I love the image of the “web of support”. I am so appreciative of this web.
Oh Elise.
Enawali … for your grace, your fortitude, your fumbling and your fun.
E ra fama.
Ha! I bet I know which step you mean, from Dounounbah. If it’s the step I have in mind, it went from being the most difficult to one of my most favorite moves, one which really expresses the spirit of Guinea dance. Sounds like I missed a great class!
Yes, Elise, there’s much commentary on that beautiful phrase recited upon finishing a book of the Torah – chazak, chazak v’nitchazek. To quote a rabbi from NJ: “These words, which essentially mean ‘be strong, be strong and let us summon our strength,’ point to the fact that even the most joyous of transitions are perhaps bittersweet, that as we move from one chapter to another (both literally and figuratively) we often require a little bit of extra vigor and resolve to push through a period of change.”
According to my Hebrew verb book, the word “nitchazek” means “we come stronger/gather strength/take courage”.
So I would say that the “we” is the universally human “we”. The striving and struggling, grieving and healing “we”. The wiser yet weakening, aging “we”. And the tender “me” within the “we”.
So you are doing it: gathering strength and courage. I think the value of it, in the midst of your intense agony and profound grief, will only become clear years from now.
In the meantime, you’re not alone, and you’re loved.
and yet, another insightful story…….your open willingness to share is incredible and inspirational… as I now step into my own journey of grief, I tend to withdraw from the world……..shielding myself from others, as the pain of loss cuts too deep..
but…there is a secret to dancing doundounba….the rhythm falls “in between” the steps, so find that in-between place, and you will begin to feel the power of the dance…….
Thanks, Elise, once again. I read your message about the dance of strength just an hour after I set the date for my hip replacement, the first of two coming up.
I am basically a coward. I’ve been in the hospital two times the first being born. I’m afraid of an operation but I loved African dance even though Pam, you and everyone flew by me. You all were the real dancers. I would thump along at the end…
Still there was a time I used to try. I wonder when I get my new hips if I’ll try again.
I admire your courage to dance, to continue to find new ways to think, to learn, to live through this time. Thank you.
Peace, Betty
Sending you my best, Betty, as you go in for surgery. You will be in my thoughts. Please keep me posted.
Love,
Elise
Dear Elise,
It was a joy to dance with you last night. I came away from class in awe of the way you embrace joy on the dance floor, and grateful for your silliness. Your openness in this process is such a gift, a deep source of strength.
Much love,
Shea
Dear Shea,
It really is a wonder to me that I can be joyful and silly. I am so very grateful for the safe space and community that has been created on the dance floor. Even if for this short period of time, I can at times be distracted. Now that, is a gift!
Love,
Elise
It was a gift dancing beside you last night…as it always is. Love you, LiLi. xo
I am, as always…. Moved by the love you possess within and without. In addition, the comments that followed were so incredibly supportive and demonstrate how the thread of unity weaves between us all, both present and from a distance. By the way, I’ve always had a secret wish to dance the way this class seems to do. I want more info, please. I AM with you, always… Mercedes
Dance floor as microcosm of life’s struggles and achievements, small and large. Ah, so hard. Oh, so fun. Such joy, such commitment to placing feet.
I like the analogy.
I love the community.
Yes, yes and yes. And microcosm may have been the word I was looking for, thank you.
Where and when is this dancing? I want to try it!
Yasher Koach. From Strength to Strength…