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The Goddess Speaks
AS the end of Obon season in Hawaii draws near, it's time to reflect upon the reasons for, benefits of, and sometimes downside of, bon-dancing. There seems to be a stigma attached to the bon dance. Even though more young people of different ethnic backgrounds seem to be joining in, it's still perceived as sport for "old ladies." Dangers and delights
of bon danceBON DANCE VIDEO SPECIAL
I just didn't think they'd be in better shape than me.
Because bon dancing is dominated by elderly women, you would assume it's one of the least hazardous of "sports." But, like martial arts, the art of bon dance requires perseverance, mental focus, and physical self-discipline. In that sense it builds character. Sometimes I wonder about that when a senior citizen shoves her way into the dance circle, arms flailing against those around her without saying, "Excuse me."
Most dancers, however, graciously ask permission or nod and smile when cutting in front of you. Bon dance etiquette dictates that you maintain a safe distance from the dancer in front of you, or risk having your toes stepped on.
One bon dance leader said it takes three years to become proficient at bon-dancing. Until then, you follow someone who seems to know what she's doing. It feels awkward at first, but you work your way up from the easy dances to the more complicated ones.
Once you learn the dance steps, you can add your personal style to it: As long as you get the timing down, because it's embarrassing to clap or turn at the wrong time with so many people watching.
Many avid bon-dancers say they started bon dancing after losing a loved one. After all, it serves to honor the spirits of the dead. The ashes of deceased family members are often enshrined where bon dances are held. In fact, some bon dance songs are choreographed and dedicated to a particular loved one who passed away.
Of course, you don't have to be a Buddhist in mourning to bon dance.
Reaching your arms toward the stars in the night sky, and moving in unison with a circle of people of all ages to the beat of live taiko drums, you can't help but feel moved spiritually. Often, the dances -- especially the ones with live music -- prompt bystanders in street clothes to join in, even kids and people in wheelchairs.
With so many people capable of performing the dances, you'd think it was a safe past-time for anyone. The worst injury I could imagine was to have my toes stomped on or run over. But leave it to me to get hurt. One night, after an hour-long practice session of high-stepping, leg-pivoting Okinawan numbers on uneven grassy terrain, I woke up barely able to walk, with a throbbing pain from knee to groin.
Limping to work, I was confronted by one inquiring co-worker after another, who asked me what was causing me to hobble. They laughed when I answered, "Bon Dance-itis." My boss urged me to see a doctor, which I reluctantly did. I knew what the doctor's orders would be: "No bon-dancing for a while."
Until my injury, I told as few people as possible about my new form of exercise. They would ask me what I planned to do on the weekend, and would smirk or snicker when I replied, "Bon Dance."
Now that I have written about it, I no longer feel ashamed.
Bon dancing is a healthy escape, connecting you with local Japanese and Okinawan cultures, as well as with other people. It may not be the world's best workout, but at least it beats sitting in front of the TV eating bonbons.
Lorraine Wong is a paralegal who has been bon dancing
for three years. She is still limping around.
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