Campbell - Dance and Ritual
In case you were unaware, CNU hosts a dance concert every spring semester to celebrate the efforts and time commitments of members within the dance department. Because I have good friends and sisters in the dance show, I make sure to attend the event each year to show my support. The dance routines often depict a wide variety of styles and movements, from ballet to tap dancing. Most of the dancers, choreographers, and producers are students, which is extremely impressive because I cannot imagine what it takes to put on such a remarkable show. This year, one of the dance professors decided to choreograph her own routine alongside a project she has been working on regarding Haitian dance styles. The routine was the first dance of the second set, and I knew something truly amazing was going to happen before the music even began.
The lights dimmed until the room was almost completely black, and then two large spotlights beamed onto the stage, illuminating a pair of bongos. A middle-aged African-American man stepped out, boasting a brightly colored dashiki and thong-toed sandals. He settled into the chair behind the bongos confidently and, taking a deep breath, began to play the instruments and sing. The language was unfamiliar but resonated beautifully within the crowded theater. Suddenly, the dancers appeared from backstage, gowned in flowing white skirts and tunics, their bare feet smacking rhythmically against the stage floor. In tight lines and staccato movements, they crossed the stage to the back right corner, where a collection of candles were subtly twinkling. Each dancer collected a candle and danced back towards the drummer, who continued on with his vivacious song. When they had finally reached the drummer, the dancers laid their candles down in front of him, reverently bowed, and backed away in this position. Immediately I knew the significance of this scene: the dancers were giving the drummer offerings, candles in this instance, for a reason unbeknownst to the audience. Was it because of his admirable skills in his playing and singing? Or did the drummer represent something within Haitian religion that required respect from those around him? I wasn't sure and, unfortunately, I never got my answer.
Not only did this ritualistic act at the beginning of the dance stick out to me; as a matter of fact, the entire routine was impressionable. The drummer and dancers seemed completely in-line with each other, feeding off of each other's energies and predicting each other's movements perfectly. The drummer continued to play his songs effortlessly, resounding emotion throughout the crowd. After several minutes of choppy dancing vociferous music, the dancers disappeared from the stage and the drummer quieted his music. His singing reverted to a quiet, hum-like melody, and the stage remained empty for awhile. Then, the dancers returned, now sporting tunics and skirts of red, and some of them even gripped long (plastic) knives. The demeanor of the dance had changed completely: the drummer beat his bongos harder, more viciously, and the sounds bouncing off of his tongue had a seemingly angry undertone to them. The dancers chins were lowered ever so slightly, a flaming fierceness glaring from their eyes. Their knees bounced higher, and their arms waved stronger. Those who held knives struck the air with power and ferocity. The entire mood of the performance had changed from something graceful and calm to a more intense and brutish approach.
Both of these styles represented a sacred ritual within Haitian culture, appearing to depict opposite ends of the spiritual life. During the first half of the routine, the dancers seemed to be advocating for something innocent, pure, and peaceful. The routine quickly changed direction during the second half, when the dance became more intimidating, vicious, and powerful. I'm not quite sure what these opposing routines symbolized, although I'm sure they were intended to depict facets of Haitian religiosity. For instance, the nature of the second part of the routine seemed to possibly indicate a ritual for warfare preparation, what with the sporadic knives and blood-red costumes. Of course this is all speculation, since I am rather untrained in the knowledge of Haitian ritual dance, but this class has helped me recognize the portrayals of ritual and sacredness in religion. My most profound takeaway from this concert, however, was that these ostensibly ancient practices are still in use today, inspiring members of a dance department in the United States to replicate it. I think it's important to realize that our ancestral past still dictates many cultures that exist today, whether directly or indirectly.
The lights dimmed until the room was almost completely black, and then two large spotlights beamed onto the stage, illuminating a pair of bongos. A middle-aged African-American man stepped out, boasting a brightly colored dashiki and thong-toed sandals. He settled into the chair behind the bongos confidently and, taking a deep breath, began to play the instruments and sing. The language was unfamiliar but resonated beautifully within the crowded theater. Suddenly, the dancers appeared from backstage, gowned in flowing white skirts and tunics, their bare feet smacking rhythmically against the stage floor. In tight lines and staccato movements, they crossed the stage to the back right corner, where a collection of candles were subtly twinkling. Each dancer collected a candle and danced back towards the drummer, who continued on with his vivacious song. When they had finally reached the drummer, the dancers laid their candles down in front of him, reverently bowed, and backed away in this position. Immediately I knew the significance of this scene: the dancers were giving the drummer offerings, candles in this instance, for a reason unbeknownst to the audience. Was it because of his admirable skills in his playing and singing? Or did the drummer represent something within Haitian religion that required respect from those around him? I wasn't sure and, unfortunately, I never got my answer.
Not only did this ritualistic act at the beginning of the dance stick out to me; as a matter of fact, the entire routine was impressionable. The drummer and dancers seemed completely in-line with each other, feeding off of each other's energies and predicting each other's movements perfectly. The drummer continued to play his songs effortlessly, resounding emotion throughout the crowd. After several minutes of choppy dancing vociferous music, the dancers disappeared from the stage and the drummer quieted his music. His singing reverted to a quiet, hum-like melody, and the stage remained empty for awhile. Then, the dancers returned, now sporting tunics and skirts of red, and some of them even gripped long (plastic) knives. The demeanor of the dance had changed completely: the drummer beat his bongos harder, more viciously, and the sounds bouncing off of his tongue had a seemingly angry undertone to them. The dancers chins were lowered ever so slightly, a flaming fierceness glaring from their eyes. Their knees bounced higher, and their arms waved stronger. Those who held knives struck the air with power and ferocity. The entire mood of the performance had changed from something graceful and calm to a more intense and brutish approach.
Both of these styles represented a sacred ritual within Haitian culture, appearing to depict opposite ends of the spiritual life. During the first half of the routine, the dancers seemed to be advocating for something innocent, pure, and peaceful. The routine quickly changed direction during the second half, when the dance became more intimidating, vicious, and powerful. I'm not quite sure what these opposing routines symbolized, although I'm sure they were intended to depict facets of Haitian religiosity. For instance, the nature of the second part of the routine seemed to possibly indicate a ritual for warfare preparation, what with the sporadic knives and blood-red costumes. Of course this is all speculation, since I am rather untrained in the knowledge of Haitian ritual dance, but this class has helped me recognize the portrayals of ritual and sacredness in religion. My most profound takeaway from this concert, however, was that these ostensibly ancient practices are still in use today, inspiring members of a dance department in the United States to replicate it. I think it's important to realize that our ancestral past still dictates many cultures that exist today, whether directly or indirectly.
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