Just days after my New Year’s gig was cancelled due to renewed government restrictions on social gatherings, I walked to the top of the island for lunch as I’d done several times and would do many times more. After this lunch I felt the urge to move and shake off the heaviness of pigging out. Conveniently, I happened to be wearing my RakasaFit™ gear. I swear, I didn’t plan this, and yet somehow I suspect my mischievous subconscious participated.

Fallou saw my gaze at the empty space across from where we’d gathered and asked if I wanted to go dance. I responded timidly, thinking of how silly and out of place I’d be. “Go,” he said. Well, I’ve never concluded a lunch at someone’s house with a personal RakasaFit™ session, but moment by moment as I plugged in my music, the idea of this began to feel more and more natural. And I’m sure all the spontaneous dance, music, and art happening all around added to my feeling of welcome.

Almost immediately I was joined by a girl, and then another, and then more came. They followed every single move, nuance, and gesture, like parrots with the spoken word. I immediately switched out of my inner world and into teacher mode, and saw the unforgettable light and joy radiating from their faces!

RakasaFit™ is normally a 50–60 minute workout, but as I tuned into their motivations and energies, songs were added and repeated and thus we trained for two hours.

At that point I could see they’d arrived at their sweet spot between learning saturation and happiness, so I concluded our lesson for the day. Later that evening, it was decided I would arrange a mini-show with them for the New Year’s Eve gathering on Goree! The flame had ignited.

Throughout the next two weeks, I created a 15-minute presentation of three choreographies. I’ve always noticed how mesmerized kids become when veil is added to the dance, so I arranged to find fabric in the colors of the Senegalese flag and had veils made for them.

As our practice proceeded, I became fascinated with how the kids learned. Initially and overall, they didn’t seem especially concerned with breakdown and details of getting it “right” and were happy to follow along and figure it out with their astute observation skills. Then, after a few sessions, a few of the girls began asking for verification on technical details, thus I used this as a time to go over such details with everyone.

It made me reflect on how we learn language in childhood -- initially we just speak what we learn and don’t ask why; then years later our grammar lessons come and we learn the logic behind it. It occurred to me that the elevated joy I was observing among these girls was a result of their lack of concern over whether they were doing it correctly or not; there was no notion of failure.

I also discovered that the learning approach and format of RakasaFit™ had particular resonance with the kids! The method of visualizing and creating shapes with the body resulted in immediate understanding and served as exactly the shortcut intended. The repetitiveness also added to the fun -- as they became more competent each time we repeated a combo, I observed their creativity and level of joy increase. And the overall “cardio” effect of RakasaFit™ was a perfect outlet for unloading the massive amounts of energy they’d accumulated throughout their school day.

In the process of learning about their learning approach, I also became aware of what to let go of. I realized that anything that impeded their experience of pure joy was to be discarded. I relaxed my attempts to maintain their stage placements, as I could see this was not relevant to their interests and motivation. Symmetry and visibility of dancers onstage is an aesthetic for the audience (and quite possibly more for Western audiences). I also learned to relax expectations of when and how the event would take place and who would participate. As this was a very informal effort during the pandemic, we had to make the best of very limited resources. And as the availability and schedule of kids is dependent on parents, reliable attendance wasn’t possible. But no matter what or when or whatever the outcome, we were all gaining immeasurable enrichment from this magical venture.

Thus, although disappointed at first with the cancellation of my one-of-a-kind New Year’s gig in a spectacular Dakar venue, when this sweet new project popped up I found myself feeling relieved with the change, for I would not have been able to dedicate my focus on it while also preparing and performing the gig. And this project now has a legacy. There is talk of me returning to Goree to repeat it on a grander scale. Regardless of whether this happens, the seeds have been planted in these wonderful girls. They now carry the spirit of this dance and the possibility of its evolution in their community, on Goree Island, but of course!

Video will be posted soon on the following social media channels:

• Facebook Profile -- www.facebook.com/suzanna.davis.71
  
• Facebook Page -- www.facebook.com/rakasafitworldwide
  
• YouTube -- www.youtube.com/user/planetsuzanna
  
• Instagram -- www.instagram.com/planetsuzanna
  
• LinkedIn -- www.linkedin.com/in/planetsuzanna
  

In no other place have I witnessed such complete transformation from the darkness to the light, from the basest evil to the purest love. Once the hub of the West African slave trade, today Gorée Island vibrates with peace, love, art, community, and humanity. Here, art is just another shared element, like air and water. Here, the purpose of art is communication, connection, and community building. All are invited to participate, whether by creating, appreciating, or both. As an artist myself, I find my endless source of renewal and inspiration in this ecology.

Cobblestone pathways flow between historic repurposed buildings and uphill, winding through an enchanted display of art by local residents.

Soft waves caress my thoughts as birds zealously chant and flutter through the flowers, conversing about all that is important.

Nearby, drummers may spontaneously gather and elevate the earth with rhythm, including cassé cassé, a percussive instrument that makes me want to shimmy shimmy, created from a tree commonly found in Diogué Island in southern Senegal. Through Fallou and Sallou, this has become an international sensation, especially in Japan, where the instrument has been named Asalato. They make it look so simple, yet it’s incredibly challenging!

In the afternoon, songs of a hundred angel voices echo from the Mariama Ba all-girl's school, and I am transported to paradise. And sometimes at night, strong, joyful, and gorgeous singing permeates the air from the other side of the island.

The other day I heard from a distance someone playing not a hand drum, but the drum kit. I decided not to mind my own business and pursued it, leading me into a tunnel that pivoted to a room, whereupon I was welcomed to the drummer's practice.

This historical metamorphosis of Gorée Island, alive with every sunrise and sunset, expressed through the collective heart of the community and through the light of each individual, has fortified my sense of hope like no other. I can imagine no greater response to history. If it can be on Gorée, it can be anywhere. It's been an immeasurable gift to spend some time living this existence and learning so much from it.

I’m taking a unique journey of a lifetime. I am going to Gorée Island and there I will stay for a little while. This is about the last thing I imagined doing at the end of this year. But then, everything about this year is about the last thing I could have imagined. Thus when this opportunity so boldly and clearly presented itself and the usual noise of my busy life couldn’t cloud my vision, I patiently stood still in my resistance, then stepped into my courage and said yes.

Gorée Island, just off the coast of Senegal, was once the hub of the inconceivably evil West African slave trade. By contrast, it is now an incomparably magical, artistic, vibrant, and joyful place. This contrast is no coincidence. It is an intentional collective manifestation by the residents of Gorée throughout generations, determined to represent this monumental island as the world hub of humanity, which they demonstrate in every action and interaction, and especially through art. Each day is an acknowledgement of the evil that took place, with daily actions and expressions to demonstrate it is nevermore. As ambassadors of peace and humanity, they bring others into the light, healing the residual fragments of trauma that lie within our consciousness.

My first visit to Gorée Island was just over 20 years ago, an emotionally charged experience that culminated in sleeping in one of the underground dungeons, which I spent months writing about as a way to process, but never published. Since then I have witnessed the changes of this island toward more commercial and institutional as Senegal develops, leaving the traditional resident artists more vulnerable. Last summer a call for help came to me. One of the leaders of the Gorée artist community was on the verge of losing the lease on his modest gallery space. With no visitors permitted throughout more than seven months due to the pandemic, his income was eliminated. And so I launched a small fundraiser to help him save his livelihood and help others in his community, and to preserve the unique and extraordinary enlightenment they offer to visitors from around the world. My profound thanks to all who contributed! 🤍

The process of coordinating this fundraiser and writing about it reawakened my connections and opened the door to this journey I now embark on, a personalized residency organically created somehow through my life path. This will be an immersion of sharing and exchange. I will grow my language and communication skills in French and Wolof. I will learn the ways of transmitting peace through a smile. I will learn how to cook in new ways. I will learn much more about world history and culture. I will be available to offer what I know to whoever seeks it. And I will dance with the sea!

Prior to my trip to Europe last February and March, one of my RakasaFit participants suggested I would surely not want to miss the opportunity to get photos in a belly dance costume on the beach while at Canary Islands! In my flurry of preparations focused on the workshops I was to deliver in Budapest, I probably wouldn't have thought about this, so I was glad she mentioned it. But here's the catch -- I'd have to find someone to take these photos, as I was traveling solo. My former sister-in-law whom I was visiting and who'd lived there for decades would be a good possibility. But it turns out she was busy with work and family and suggested it was a simple matter of going to the beach and asking someone to take a photo.

Anxiety crept in as I visualized this. How would I bypass my lifelong shyness and social inhibitions to approach a complete stranger with this request while wearing a belly dance costume? Or what if I made an unlucky choice and the stranger runs away with my phone? After delaying about as much as I could, a couple days before my flight departure I shove myself out the door in my costume and shimmy down to the beach. It's just a question of showing up, I tell myself, and not thinking ahead. The rest will find a way, one step at a time. I begin to enjoy the feeling of unthinking, listening to the distant voice, and watching my own movie.

A few steps go by and my eyes settle on the man running the outdoor jetski rental. Hmmm, prepared to meet the public and a safe choice moreover. And so I ask, "I wonder if you could take a few photos of me in front of the sea?"

"Clothes on, or clothes off?" he responds.

The self watching my own movie howls with laughter! All at once I realize I'm just one of many with this idea to approach him with such a photo request! And clearly these requests have fallen in two categories! I pause for a moment, as the self watching my own movie is tempted to choose the "clothes off" option in order to find out his response. I also pause at the notion that numerous others before me must have requested this, in order for my question to require such clarification.

"Clothes on," I smile, and explain that the special costume I'm wearing is my purpose. He agrees, hurriedly secures his shop, and we take a few steps down to the shore and take some shots. Less than a minute later, he hands me my phone and hurries back to his shop. His disinterest amuses me, further underscoring the narrative of the many requests that came before me.

And then that's it? I think. All this preparation for a few shots in less than 60 seconds ? I decide to proceed further down the beach and repeat the process. I expect it to feel easier now that I've tried it, but it becomes hard again as I consider the awkwardness of approaching an unsuspecting tourist minding his own business. It occurs to me that I'd feel much better about asking a woman, and that's what I do. The woman I approach is with her male partner. She turns out to be Italian and barely understands my request in English, which would have been in Spanish, if only I knew how.

Contrary to the previous "photographer" she is effervescent with interest in the whole idea. She suggests new angles and poses as her artistic discovery unfolds. Many photos later, we agree to finish and I express my heartfelt thanks. In her eyes I see an unmistakably bright soul, glowing with a million stars. Arriving back in Budapest for a few more days before my return to the US, I immediately learn of an emergency outbreak of coronavirus in Italy, one of the first dominoes to fall in what was to quickly become a massive global health crisis. Casualties were piling high in Italy as the rest of the world scrambled to understand how to minimize the spread of this novel virus, in a panic to avoid the same fate. I think of this Italian woman, imagining the shock of her return from Canary Islands to face this nightmare, a destiny we would soon share.

Ⓒ 2020 - All rights reserved.

Looking outside at the endless snow, I couldn’t help thinking this might actually signal the end of the world. Everything began to spin. Reality shifted. How long had I moved through life and all its hustles and pursuits, ignorant of cancer growing inside of me? My body absorbs shock and bounces back, I’d always thought. Suddenly, I began to discover myself as a completely vulnerable being, in the process of slowly, or perhaps not slowly, being destroyed from within. What is my environment within that allowed for this mutation?

Suddenly, I felt myself drowning in a future I never imagined -- surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, long-term medication, or all of those. Night after night I allowed only thoughts of faith to carry me to sleep. But each morning I awoke to a nightmare, remembering I have cancer now. I wondered if there was an exit, back into my dreams, back into the vortex, then to a new start?

After the findings of the first surgery I was told I needed a second one, as soon as possible. I didn’t imagine this could happen! Malignant cells lingered. My mind orbited in a constant state of uncertainty. Do I have a future? How much? This uncertainty has always existed, I realized, but now I lived in a heightened state of awareness. Suddenly, I began to see all the colors and textures! Suddenly, I began to consciously and actively choose life, whether for ten more minutes or for ten more years. At least I have this chance. So many are no longer among the living.

Hearing the news or by osmosis, the survivors began to reach out and share their wisdom. “In many ways it is a gift,” said one. “You’ll never have another bad day again,” said another. When cancer falls upon you, all previous anxieties and sorrows become small pebbles. “You are about to discover how much love there is in your community,” said another. And I did! I wanted to capture this in a bottle and save the world with it. Seriously, why don’t we call or text a few people weekly to check in on how things are going, without that being weird?

​That word, I never imagined hearing that word applied to me.
Hoping the avoided thought would keep it distant from me.
Then suddenly, as I busily pursued my dreams, the skies shifted.
A massive and unusual snow storm
Quietly settled in.
 
It trapped our cars on icy hills;
It trapped us in our houses,
With diminishing supplies,
It trapped us with our thoughts,
With ourselves.
Setting an ominous backdrop.
 
And on February 11th, 2019, that word, cancer,
Entered.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

​There was one unlucky aunt, died at 49,
Leaving behind two young children.
But, I had many of these routine exams,
Ending always in the same benign conclusion,
And reinforcing my blind confidence.

​Avoidance prevailed, month after month,
Almost a year later
A ghostly urgency prodded me
Toward a long overdue checkup.

Over and over I hear that I am strong.
Sometimes that feels like I don’t qualify for concern.
I have never been more vulnerable;
And I am valuing the honesty of that more every day.
People refer to cancer as something you fight.
For me, it is something I try to make peace with.
There is no light without darkness,
Even (or maybe especially) within us.
 
The feeling of the knife lingers,
And the fear of what may come.
But I have been given the gift of today.
Why am I in a good mood?
Because I woke up today,
And I’m standing here
Alive and whole.