I’m a Famous Dancer.

…No, really. I am.

Independence Day here is 30 July, and is the most raucous time of year. I flew back to Sola on 29 July to find that the football field was bordered by makeshift “stalls” on two sides, a stage had been set up in the middle, and one end had brand new volleyball net and bocce setups. The stalls were roughly one third “stores,” one third “restaurants” (sit down and receive a plate of whatever’s cookin’ for 200vt), and one third kava bars. The rest of Sola pretty much emptied out and everyone spent all their free time drinking kava and eating at the stalls. There was music playing constantly, usually from several different sources (each playing a different song) as some of the stalls brought out the big guns – their personal generators. There were events like a volleyball tournament, a bocce tournament, a flag raising/anthem singing the day of, and performances and skits on the big stage.

One of these performances was The Mother Hubbard Show. Basically, this would be a fashion/dance contest in which women deck themselves out in island dresses and flowers.

I heard about it on the 29th. I had the fleeting thought, “wouldn’t it be funny if…?” but then forgot about it after my welcome back kava night with the other volunteers. (Plus Kalli, a Vila PCV who was here for work!)

Then the 30th I heard an announcement asking for judges and contestants for that night’s show. (Remember, I live at “End blo Fild.” I could hear all the music and all the announcements from the comfort of my own home!) I voiced my, “wouldn’t it be funny if…” idea, expecting the others to giggle and say, “yeah…” and have the whole thing come to nothing. Instead, the responses were,

“Do it!” – Nicole

And, “I’ll flas your hair!” – Kalli

The next thing I knew, we were shaking out my four island dresses (that have been in my suitcase since swearing-in in November) and voting on the one I would wear, and Nicole had disappeared to Unity’s yard for flowers with which to flas my hair. Unity appeared with all three children in tow: 12-year-old Ans, 6-year-old John, and the 2-month-old baby and we started discussing strategy while Kalli braided my hair to high heaven.

By the end of the afternoon, all of End blo Fild (about 7 families) had heard I’d be dancing and wished me luck in “representing our neighborhood.” At this point I was starting to think the show might be a bigger deal than I’d anticipated.

When darkness fell, I pulled my dress on, flowers were poked into my hair, and the salusalu were hung. My neighbors (and Kalli) surrounded me like an entourage so that I’d stay hidden, from both the audience and other contestants. When we got near the stage, I noticed several other little huddles that looked just like ours.

Roger proclaimed that if I won he’d carry me back to my house in honor. Ygit, his wife, started the last-minute dancing lessons. I had to remember to be graceful getting onto the stage (which would be a stretch since there’d been 4 days of cyclone-style rain during the week, and the field was really just a mud pit), bow to the judges, smile but not laugh, swing my hair so they could see the flowers, dance, turn circles, and show off my dress for one or two minutes, and bow on all four sides when I was finished, stepping off the stage gracefully.

Still surrounded by my posse, I practiced the various island dance moves, coached by Ygit, Ans, John, Lily (Ygit and Roger’s 6-year-old), Unity, Nicole, and Unity’s teenage nieces. I was Contestant Number Six. As the first five contestants took the stage, Ygit would periodically disappear, then come back to say, “Okay she’s doing this dance move, so you have to do it like this.” Or, “she bowed like this, so you should curtsy like this.”

Some of the island dress was amazing. Most of the women were wearing hats that were wrapped with salusalu so it was like a huge flower of a hat. They all had at least two salusalu on their body somewhere, hanging from their necks or wrapped around their wrists. A lot of them were wearing sunglasses. They were all wearing their best dresses of course, and a couple carried Vanuatu flags.

When my name was announced there was an uproar. Ni-Vans are very vocal people when it comes to sporting events, and apparently a fashion/dance contest is no exception. My previous stage experience has been with orchestras, where people don’t exactly scream, shout, and laugh throughout the entire performance, so it was all a little strange to me. My mama made sure to tell me later who cheered the loudest and who was the most surprised to see me up on stage (the gossip had only had two hours to spread, so only 70 or 80% of town had heard I’d be dancing).
So I danced in my island dress in front of several hundred screaming people. I remembered to curtsy, smile but not laugh, show off my dress, and turn around in circles. Ygit says I should have swung my hair a bit more. My mama says we should have left my hair down instead of braiding it.

I didn’t win – not even Top Three – but I didn’t want to win. The prize was monetary and I wouldn’t keep it, but I hadn’t decided what I’d do with it if I won. I did, however, get the loudest cheers from the audience – even possibly more than the drag queen who was Contestant Number Ten.

I expected creepers on Saturday night, but surprisingly none showed up. The amount of suggestive comments has drastically increased, but I figure that’s a small price to pay for the hilarity of the whole experience. And most of them aren’t THAT suggestive. Just stuff like, “So do we get another Mother Hubbard Show tonight?” Denise (Ygit’s sister) did catch a yangfala venturing too close to my house on Sunday evening, but I wasn’t even home from kava yet.

Lots of people have expressed disappointment in having gone home early that night. “I heard in the morning that you danced! I wish I’d seen it!” I’ve also had people come up to me and say I should have gotten a prize for being the first white Mother Hubbard contestant in Sola’s history. And they’re serious.

I have already been persuaded to dance again next year, and of course it’ll be even better because I’ll start preparing more than two hours ahead of time. Maybe I’ll learn actual dance moves. Or maybe I’ll even leave my hair down.

Here I am with Roger, one of my neighbors/choreographers and Nicole (who didn’t know she was in the picture).

And dancing!