Hang-Up Dance

Last week, I stopped by our small local village store (when I say small – I mean like your standard concession stand at a little league baseball game – maybe even smaller) to pick up some things.  The elderly couple who run the stand excitedly told me that all of the Catholic volunteers needed to make sure to come to the Nimar Hang-up Dance on Saturday, which would start at 12:00 – but that meant it won’t start until sometime around 1:30.  The man briefly explained to me that a hang-up dance was a traditional dance that was going to be retired for a certain period of time.  Usually hang-up dances are done in celebration or commemoration of something.  He told me that the entire village would be there and that he was excited to see us there.

            I talked to Fr. John about the dance and he told me it was customary for everyone to bring something to share with everyone.  He suggested a bottle of wine because everyone would want to celebrate after.  When I double checked this with my Yapese mother, Mary, she laughed at me and told me that this hang-up dance was being performed by children, so wine would not be the best choice.  She said since we were family that the TPK did not have to bring anything, but I insisted that we wanted to share something, so she suggested cookies or a cake.  Thanks, Mom, for the cookies you sent – the entire village loved them (I made a batch of my own too – but I needed more and chocolate chips are impossible to find on the island). 

            On the day of the dance, we walked the 45 seconds to the village community center (a pavilion type structure surrounded with our village’s stone money) and sat down.  In Yapese culture, you are not supposed to squat, or sit on little half walls (they are for leaning against), and your legs should never dangle over the sides of anything – it makes it seem like you are in a hurry to leave.  There were tables upon tables of local food – including an amazing crab dish that was served in the shell, made by our amazing Mary of course.  Our whole village was there – which totaled to a little over 100 people or so.  The women and children all sat and chatted in the pavilion, while the men stood by the little store and tattoo parlor (yes, our village is proud to be the home of Yap Tribal Tattoo owned by our chief’s son, Leo – he is awesome).

            The children performing the dance ranged from ages 7-18 (or something like that).  One of our sophomores, Genevieve, was performing the dance and was one of the leaders who started the chants.  All of the dancers were in local attire and they were so proud to be representing their culture.  This hang-up dance was a “Stick Dance” which involves bamboo and a lot of intricate, well-timed motions and swinging and hitting of the sticks to make a beat, often while chanting.  It was absolutely mind-blowing.  One of the most mesmerizing things I have ever witnessed.  So much agility, control, rhythm, concentration, passion, energy.

            After the dance, the chief of our village (who also happens to be the older man who runs the village store – I just didn’t know this at the time) brought me an iced pineapple and coconut drink that I think was only be passed to some of the men of the village – as he handed it to me he smiled and whispered “Oh – it is a little spiked.”  I felt honored to be welcomed into the community of the men of the village (yes, I intentionally worded that so that I didn’t say “village men”).  I spent the next hour or so eating and talking with the people of Nimar and meeting many new people who all assured me they knew who I was because they all knew the Americans.  The gratitude of everyone was overwhelming.  Honestly – one of the most perfect experiences I have had on Yap thus far.

Summer in her new grass skirt

The dancers getting ready to perform

A brief pause in the dance

           

I am so unbelievably blessed to have this opportunity in Yap.  It is so much more than just a volunteer experience, it is a new way of living – a new way of loving. 

“I want to turn the clock back to when people lived in small villages

and took care of each other.”

- Peter Seeger