My Second Real Party

 Going to and arriving at a Dancehall party with mostly foreigners is a completely different experience than tagging along with Jamaicans. This is why I felt a separate account of my second experience was more than necessary. Going with my teacher and his teammates meant I truly was going to see this part of the culture through completely different eyes. 

When I went to my first party with my group of friends at the hostel, all who were white, foreign, and girls, everything was in tip top order, from us leaving our apartment all the way to the trip back home. We got ready together, put on makeup while talking loudly, and left at or around the same time we planned. Getting ready with my teacher was a completely different experience. When he told me we would leave at 2AM, I took that quite literally, and was all set and ready to go at 2:10. Of course, I didn't know him saying that actually meant that's when the alarm would go off after the pre-party nap signaling it was time to start getting ready, that the rest of the team would be there at 3, and the taxi would be there closer to 330 to drop us at the party by 3:45. How naive I was!

After spraying ourselves with half a gallon of perfume and cologne, my teacher, the rest of his team, (and his 14 year old neighbor that decided to tag along), piled into the cramped taxi and headed out into the night. I was given the low down that I would have to enter at a separate time as the boys, and wait for them inside, which I did with a little hesitation. As we walked in, I was told to stick with the neighbor kid, who was going to look after me while the rest of the group headed to the center of the party. 

Walking in to the party, I had a similar feeling as when I went with my friends a few months before; all eyes on me, entering with hesitation; nervous, excited, and a little overwhelmed. While last time I stayed with my girlfriends on the outside, observing, this time I was pulled to what was basically the outer core of the Dancehall. Just as the center of the earth holds the planet's energy, the inside circle does the same for the entire party. Dancing there, and observing everyone was an energetic overflow. I could literally feel it in my veins; the emotion and the fire that rose out of the dancing taking place in that circle was insane. All the while, the neighborhood kid, which in my eyes, age-wise, was a child, became more of an adult than me, transforming into my protector, watching over me as instructed by my teacher while he went to work.

When the party was done closer to 6AM, the exit was not as clear cut as the time before either. While my foreign friends and I made a smooth, clear exit the time before, this time, we stayed and participated in the entire post party mingling, greeting, and handshaking. When that finally ended closer to 7AM, we piled into the taxi once again to reach home just as the heat of the day crept in. 

After all of this, the dancing late at night, epic long party experiences, and sleeping and staying with a real Jamaican household it was still clear to me that I was not yet done. I still needed more time for this place to sink in. My teacher at this point had become more like my best friend, and his family soon became similar to my own, and now I knew I really and truly has a place to return to. 

A classic, post-party shot 

Staying in my first Jamaican household

 My experience in Jamaica very quickly transformed from a quick trip to take a couple classes into a full blown life experience that would transform the years to come. From almost the moment I touched down back in California, I already had my next trip planned and booked in less than a full season. Of course, this time was not any different from the last, in that the trip I had planned in my head was completely different than the experience that was thrown before me. 

This time around, I only had 6 full days in the country, which meant I had to pack even more in than I did that first time around. My "plan" was to stay with my teacher, and his family, and get a foundation in the Old Skool rhythms of Dancehall. It seemed simple in my mind, and, without much planning, I was stepping off the plane into the sweltering heat once again. Before I knew it, I was rushed into an old jalopy driven by my teachers' good friend and driven to the neighborhood that I was briefly introduced to a few months earlier. Stepping out of the car, I shed the whirlwind of my red eye flight and bumpy car ride, and could once again feel the calm that being in Jamaica brought me. 

While my last trip had been an introduction to Jamaica as a whole, this trip was my up and close introduction to the way of life in Kingston. The house was small, with three makeshift rooms that each led into one another. At least two people slept in every room, except if there was family visiting, which increased the number to 3 or 4 . The yard, where classes were held, was all dirt, leading to a pathway of chicken coops and clotheslines. With music playing at least 12 hours a day, and the almost twice a day video game gatherings, personal space was considered a luxury. Despite me being a complete stranger, I was welcomed as a member of the family. My six days were spent eating an Easter dinner of fried chicken and pasta salad, playing video games with the group of neighborhood boys, kicking a soccer ball with the little kids, hanging up laundry, and participating in the occasional class led by my teacher in the yard to a group of foreigners passing by. So much was packed in, with time flying by and standing still at the same time. 

When the lively chaos of the day time subsided, the magical evenings set in. My first night of learning took place on top of the entry gate to the house. As people in the community passed by under the darkness of the night, my teacher explained to me the different time periods in Dancehall music. We started with the beginning, with Old Skool and Rock Steady, to the Mid Skool era recounting the radio war between Vybz Kartel and Mavado, ending with the New Skool era we are in right now. The next few evenings panned out the same way, this time dancing to the steps. We covered about 20 in total, with my teacher struggling to break down the barriers of my current movement style, often throwing up his arms, confused why I moved like a "cardboard box". We were able to break through some, thankfully. I learned to pick my feet up more, put more detail into my movement, and actually started to feel the tiny nuances that went into step. 

We skimmed the surface, which was the best that we could do in 6 days, and although I wanted to come back from this trip completely transformed, I knew the depth at which I wanted to explore Dancehall would take significantly longer. 

But first, I had to go to another party...