Dancing at a Haitian Wedding

I’ve never been accused of being a good dancer. During my junior high and high school days, my moves at the school dances were limited. Typically if it was a rock n’ roll song, my “Too cool for school” friends and I would conservatively move to the beat and raise our hands in the air and pretend to be playing the drums. It was the only real move I knew until a buddy of mine taught me how to “break dance” in college. As a counselor at summer camp during my college years, in addition to the break dancing, I briefly mastered all the steps to “New York, New York,”- achieving a modest amount of respect among the kids at the camp. But my glory quickly faded when I returned to college that fall and forgot the steps almost immediately. I was reminded of my dancing deficiencies on my recent mission trip to the Dominican Republic. It’s a long story but basically, my group was invited to a Haitian wedding in the pastor’s backyard and I got a little bit out of hand. The fact that it was obviously a shotgun wedding is relevant only to provide context. That being said, most of the patrons were not in the dancing mood when the evening began. But the father of the bride was. And I noticed that for quite some time after the music started, he was dancing by himself near the cake. Across the way some children eventually got cranked up but the adults didn’t seem to want to participate. Feeling sorry for Dad, I started filming him with my video camera and eventually grooved back and forth a little to provide a measure of support for his efforts. Not long afterward, the spirit of the evening and the beat of the music drowned out the section of my brain that secretes discretion and restraint. Figuring that being in a foreign country would significantly lessen the likelihood of me being embarrassed or humiliated, I went for it. I joined the children at first but Dad soon took notice of my gyrations and began emulating my movements. Before long he motioned for me to join him and the next thing I knew I was right beside the about-to-be-cut wedding cake, dancing with the bride’s father unashamedly. To clarify the image in your mind, we danced side by side, not face to face. At that point, I believe they would have let me cut the cake if I so desired. One of the girls in our group told me later that I looked extremely “white” during my performance. I don’t think it was intended as a compliment but I didn’t care. I had a blast. And I would do it again. But there’s one thing I might do different. In a moment of weakness, I handed my video camera to another team member. And when I checked the tape later, there I was, movin’ to the groovin’ for the whole world to see. But I still have no regrets. When I returned home, I simply clicked on my “Things to Do Before I Die” (bucket list) on my computer and added, “Dance with the father of the bride at a Haitian wedding.” It wasn’t originally on the list, but it shall reside there forever.