Wherein M'baya is danced contra to the grammar: not passively

I have known for about three months now that I would host M'baya, the monthly gathering that I attend and of which I have become a member. The dance is traditional and one meant to show solidarity and, as I learned Sunday night, contains training and overtones of military combat. But we are ahead of ourselves, and in dance that means we have lost the rhythm. To remind everyone what happens at the meeting: we gather, contribute money, give speeches, award the money, drink shah and often whisky and raffia wine, and set a meal of plantains, sauce, and chicken. But I was hosting, and so there was a brief difference. First, I bought two chickens, not just the one. I bought a third more of shah than is usual, and I also had Irish potatoes. I paid Mado, Alfred's wife, to do the cooking and so it was delicious. Far more so than if I had just brought the raw ingredients to the party and had everyone enjoy that. But there are other differences as well. From my first meeting seven months ago, the members have been speaking of drums. Well, as soon as I learned I would host, I insisted on the presence of drums. As a result, Alfred got busy tracking down the tribal drum that is used for his tribe's general meeting, and they also got the master of culture to bring in two drums. The actual drums of M'baya that he has been fixing, and there was a 'talking drum'. The first drum, also called the mother drum, is a large pregnant looking drum set in a four legged prop. Th twin M'baya drums are tall, red, and painted and carved with superstition (magic) one has a deep tone, the other is pitched slightly higher. And the talking drum soars out above them all. The reason for it's name is that it is used to convey information immediately in a village and to warn of raids and communicate with other drums. And the main difference? Usually the meeting has about ten or twelve people. My meeting had thirty three. And, contra the other meetings, was full of women, including a stunningly dressed Mommy Shah, Alice, Mado, Lisa, and other wives whose acquaintance I missed. It did not take long for the dancing to begin. After roll, payment, and announcements, Alfred leaped up with a "rook-ou-way" and began drumming and the building shook and the cheeks of all routed and the eyes flickered brighter than the sun's reflection on the bronze shields of all the Achaeans as they stand outside the walls of Troy. And the dances were confusing for me and the words of the songs incomprehensible. But, I soon found myself figuring it all out. It is battle training, the moves keep the limbs limber, the choreography takes place along the idea of battle lines. It is men who are the most active, but the women stand along the outside and move and sway and yip and leap. And this was only the first dance.  The night progressed, my horn cup went through multiple drainings of shah, raffia, and a particularly vile mixture of shah, raffia, whiskey, sweet wine. I soon learned that I have no African rhythm nor the ability to play the talking drum, but I could dance and, what is more, I could give speeches, something that I am particularly fit for suffering, as I do, from a lack of understanding the laconic and given, as I am, to pontificating in poetic gnomic phrases with long exposition and generous, even purple, compliments. The first speech I gave before buying the entire room beer, something I continued to do for the entire evening eventually racking up a bill of twenty thousand francs (forty dollars and forty beers). Well after food and some other dances, Alfred got a suspicious cunning look on his joyous face and summoned me up to the front. Genesis came up as well and other elders and they proceeded to pull from a hidden package a beatiful embroidered saro (the full length garment) and dressed me. Then Oliver brought out a stunning blue hat and pressed it to my head, meanwhile there was yipping, there was drumming and Ernest, another colleague of mine, flapped his jacket at me to keep me cool (a gesture of respect) and then we all danced together. I decided that it was a fitting time to give another speech this one was full of compliments for culture, for the astonishing variety of experiences I had, and ended with the fact that in my culture (someday I really must figure out where I come up with all this) one never accepts a gift without giving in return. So out of my bamenda bag I brought forth red pens with Sioux Falls written on them and lapel pins with Mt. Rushmore on them. **Thanks mom!** and we danced again when suddenly a harsh clacking cut through all the noise and celebration, Genesis had gotten two machetes and was clacking them together rhythmic. Alfred gestured me to sit down and the elders proceeded to dance "Nfoo." this is the official dance giving me the recognition of my title as Nformis. And we continued to dance and drink and drink and dance and sing and listen to drums and have the most spectacular time. And I only fell down two times walking home and talking a mile a minute to Alfred who graciously walked me to my door. And once I went inside I carefully removed the saro, looked at it with glistening eyes, took off my hat, and passed out. But other things happened this week as well. I gave the final exam, and was deeply moved by the fact that when I asked my students to write a comparative sentence with the adjective "difficult" many wrote variations on the sentence "the exam of mr. Christian is more difficult than the math" or "the English examen is difficulter /difficultest" some still don't quite get the idea of comparatives with adjectives more than two syllables. I also gave them all the pens and pins of my mother and they whooped and hollered and asked for stickers. But they send very gracious to thanks to my mother, and so do I.some of them, thinking perhaps that it was a compliment, remarked that they would give the pins to their fathers. But I reared back at that and told them that their fathers were not my students and this pin marked the fact that they are among the elite who can call themselves my students. Everyone clapped and shook my hand and some bowed down. Often I don't understand culture. Last night we of the English department went out and there was more drinking and speeching. Often lately I feel like I am an honorary member of the Pickwick Club.