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In a Strange Land
Getting the Rhythm
By Larry J. Pitman

Where I come from, dancing was associated with torture. In elementary school we had social dancing that climaxed with a sixth grade graduation party where the girls were on one side of the hall and the boys were clustered as far away as possible on the opposite wall, hoping desperately to escape. The teacher would then drag the boys across the floor and get them to take a partner to dance. It didn't get any better in high school, either.

In college I did develop a marginal, rigid body, approach to dancing, to the point that could I get out on the dance floor and not embarrass myself or my partner. Or so I thought.

Despite all this negative programming, in a moment of weakness, I have admitted that I would really like to dance with the rhythm and spirit I see on the part of many Peruvians. I realize that dancing is an important part of the culture. More than that, it is a way to experience the music that is so loved in this country.

I also began thinking that I had to let go of my negative past and let myself open up to dancing as a means of personal growth. Foolishly, I even said this to my wife. But I confess that this was more on the intellectual, theoretical level, and never thought it a real possibility for action.

They say that the problem with making a wish is the possibility that it might come true. Out of the blue, my wife said to me one day that she had come across a marvelous lady in the market who would be willing to teach me to dance Salsa. I swallowed hard, flashing back to my painful past, and said “ok, bring her on.”

Doña Augusta is my Salsa teacher. That first lesson was difficult for both of us. I am sure that she assumed that she was dealing with a normal human being, but didn't realize that some of us gringos are not normal.

She put on the music and started moving in a dance step. I responded by moving my feet in what I thought was the appropriate way. She looked at me in a strange way and said FEEL THE MUSIC. She could have been talking in Chinese; I really didn't know what she meant.

Then she said: LISTEN TO THE BEAT. I really couldn't hear any beat. It was hard enough just to move my feet. Listening to the music and hearing the beat was too much for me. It was then that she realized that she had an extremely tough assignment.

She took a deep breath and said MOVE LIKE I DO. Then I started moving my feet just as she was doing. It was hard enough just to keep moving my feet, but she also kept saying “feel the music,” and “listen to the beat.” Both of us began sweating profusely. We were exhausted at the end of the lesson, and I didn't expect to see her again.

Augusta, however, is a patient, determined woman. The next time, we started just as before, but to my surprise, my feet started moving more like Augusta. And, miracle of miracles, at the end of the second lesson, I began to HEAR THE BEAT.

For the third lesson, Augusta got more ambitious, and tried to get me to move my whole body and not just my feet. That is not easy for a stiff-backed gringo, but when I did move my body, I began to FEEL THE MUSIC. Who knows where this will end?

Ricky Martin, you'd better watch out!

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