Walking En Ville

My Teacher M'Bemba, called me so we could meet, and head to down town to see a company rehearsing. We took a cab, and got into the clogged arteries of the Guinean main avenues. Conakry is a peninsula. All traffic is directed into 3 main roads : "Route de Donka", "Route du Niger" and "Autoroute". Everybody is squeezed into these 3 main roads, and at rush hour it gets hecktic. We arrived to town, and Mbemba showed me the neighborhood where he was born. He new absolutely everybody, and every 50 feet, he would get stopped, start a conversation, would be handed a package, a hug, some words, would give some cash here, some cash there, then get other amounts of cash. It took us about 1 hour to walk 5 blocks, untill we arrived at the comunity center where the "Basikolo Ballet" was rehearsing. On the outside, 3 blocks of main street, where suddenly hijacked by street soccer teams. They divided the whole length of the road into 3 fields, with goal ports and all. The cars kept driving in the middle of the game, but the players, would keep avoiding them, like nothing. The honks and the cars where just obstacles that made the game even more interesting. "How many guys get their bones broken in these matches ?" I thought. I also noticed that allot of people wore Argentinian football jerseys. Every time I met a Guinean and told him / her I was from Argentina immediately they shout "Eh Messi, Maradona, Batistuta, Tevez !!" (famous argentinean soccer players), and that kind of allways brakes the ice for me (although I don't know shit about soccer, I can bullshit enough to start any conversation).
Inside the community center there was a big patio, surrounded by what appeared to be classrooms on two levels. People started to gather around while the company started its warm up. There was a big Slab of concrete of about 5 meters long by 5 meters wide and 1 meter high, where over 30 dancers, Men and Women, Women on the front (except for the warm up director that was on the front waving two straw bunches). People also started to gather on the stairs and on the rails and balconys surrounding the "Stage".
All women where wearing a uniform consisting in black tights and yellow shirts. The orchestra consisted of 9 Djembefolas (Djembe players) , 1 dununfola (dun dun player) playing a vertical dundunba and two kenkenis on the side and another dunufola playing the sangban, hanging on his side. The rythm was fast and vertiginous. You could smell the adrenaline of over 40 persons, ramming the concrete floor, and shaping powerfull sound waves accross the place. The lead dancer was showing the warm up movements, and al dancers followed. Some consisted of stretching, others on jumping, and they kept getting stronger and faster. Finally, they all made what I know as "diagonals" where all dancers gather on a corner of the stage, and one by one, the pass and do one of the movements across the whole stage's diagonal.
The warm up ends, and between those who where sitting, an African dressed in fancy white western clothes stands up and says something to the whole company. Most of the members of the companies are Malinke or SouSou. For what I heard, the Fula beeing very devote Muslims, don't see with good eyes, west african dance and drumming. (please forgive my ignorance in this one)
The company started the performance rehearsall. All the drummers where very young. The lead djembefolas where a Sousou kid that was no more than 18 years old and a little Malinke no more than 14. They blew my brain away. I was finally witnessing the dance companies I so longed to see. finally, after so many years, I get to see in guinea, real dancers and musicians, in a real company from guinea. After so many videos, and expectation, I finally got to see it. A little tear rolled down, and I made my best to hide it.
The performance kept going on. The two lead drummers, started a solo exchange where they also made a very elaborate coreogrpah with their hands that is tipical on this style. They then exchanged solos with the dancers and other drummers. On the stage side, the youngest dancers, little girls of no more than 9 to 11 , where practicing all the moves, getting ready for when they grew up to fill in any vacant positions. When the performance was reaching its climax, the director suddenly lifted both his arms, started screaming in rage, and halted the whole thing. He stayed silence looking at everyone, and not even a fly moved. He then lowered his arms, walked to the side of the stage and grabbed what looked like a rubber car trasnmition belt, cut on the side, so it ended up being one piece. He then climbed on stage, said something to the dancers, and then they all showed their hands. One by one he threw a whip on each one of them. On one, he even asked her to lay on the ground, face down, and blew a painfull whip to her buttocks. Each one of the dancers received the blow with allot of pain, and immediately left the stage running in pain, crying and shaking to "wash the pain away". Some received it on the legs, and then dragged to the floor like a dog on the dirt shaking and panting, others in their hand. It seemed very painfull, but the girls would take it as some collective punishment for their mistake. I didn't know what to do, if cry, cover my mouth, or laugh. Everybody around was laughing. It reminded me of medieval times, when people gathered around the central plaza, to witness the spectacle of an execution. All girls where whipped but a little one, of no more than 13, that he left for the end. He approached her, and lifted his menacing arm looking down on her from above. The little girl was offering her hand, and hopping frantically from one foot to the other, waiting for the blow to come. He waited about 20 seconds, and all spectators where laughing. Finally, he gave the blow, and she ran towards the rest, looking for a way to end the pain.
They all went back into stage. The director left the whip, and gave more indications. They repeated the scene, and I guess there where no more mistakes.
I thought long and deep on these things, when I went to sleep that night, trying not to make a judgment from my westerner eyes. ITs hard. It's very hard. Like the pillars that hold your moral values being mercilessly whiped and battered.