Polyester in Sub-Saharan Africa

A few weeks before I departed for Mali, I took a shopping road trip to Lafayette. I knew that my sister-in-law Jessica would take care of picking everything out, and that Mom would take care of footing the bill. Academy seemed like the best place to stock up on the necessities, and as is the McGehee way we started at the sale racks.

There, before our eyes, were light-weight, brightly colored Nike capris on sale for $14.99 each. Research had told me that Mali was a modest country and it would be in good taste to wear bottoms that cut off below the knee; that light-weight clothing would be best in such a hot climate. Personal experience was telling me that this was a great price for a Nike commodity at more than 50% off!

Jessica rightly picked out the grey and bright blue colors, saving me from my own style, which would have chosen something a little less à la mode. The capris went directly in my suitcase, and away we went across the globe.

I packed a t-shirt and wore the grey pair to work today so I’d be ever-ready for African dance class this evening. Throughout the day, I noticed that these light-weight pants sure made a lot of noise. The material rubbed to make “swoosh” noise when I walked, and then when brushed against the faux-leather chair I sat in for our office meeting made a “pfft” noise that could’ve made anyone think I’d eaten some “haricots” for breakfast.

On the drive to class that night, my American boss Claudia said there was nothing like some African dance after a long day at work. Cooped up at the office in front of my computer until 7:00PM, trying to quiet my pants all the while, I was hoping she was correct.

Three djembe players started their beats to get us warmed up, but any kind of movement I made damn near drowned the things out. Within the first few moves, I knew that noise wouldn’t be the only problem with my Nike capris: this “light-weight” material trapped heat and sweat. And then a third strike -- they had absolutely no give.

Our teacher, Lassain, explained that the base position of West African dancers was standing with your knees bent about 90 degrees. Already I felt doomed, bending of the knees seemed impossible without some kind of ripping consequence.

Lassain then said that in order to dance like a true Malian, you had to show more attitude. As an example, he flicked his head forward and back as he dipped his shoulder in and out with exaggeration. I thought that this could be my saving grace, giving a little more attitude because my pants weren’t giving me any room to move.

So I craned my neck this way and that, jutted my shoulders out with extra sass while I forced any necessary lower half movement out of my ankles rather than my knees. The head jerking coupled with my heat trapping pants got me sufficiently dizzy, which I’d like to use an excuse for forgetting some of the moves.

Nevertheless, I'll be back in class next week. Even if I am forced to wear the same pair of pants that has caused me such heat stroke and localized paralysis, while adding a constant murmur of 100% polyester to my life...I'll be there.