Ribbon Dancing

"Mummy, I want to watch ribbon dancing." That's the video my two-and-a- half-year-old daughter Hsuan-hsuan asks to see most often at home. Then see how earnestly she takes a towel and dances along to the music. Watching her air of delight and absorption, one cannot help but smile.

It all started a year ago, when at the invitation of our school's International Student Program, the Chinese students' association took part in the Talent Night of the biennial International Festival. The Taiwan contingent always puts on a really splendid program. When the association's chairperson was recruiting people to take part, I thought this might give my little daughter Hsuan-hsuan (who was then just 15 months old) a new opportunity for play and learning, so I agreed to take part. Mrs. Kan of the students' association always enthusiastically takes on the job of dance coach, and this time professional dancer Tsui Chen-yu happened to be staying in Athens, Georgia to perform. So the program was scheduled to include performances of a fairground scene and ribbon dances, which are full of Chinese festive gaiety.

The biggest challenge was the short timescale. We all got together and started by learning a few basic ribbon dance movements. Hsuan-hsuan became a loyal little spectator at every practice session. We had no experience of dance whatsoever, so the challenge of having to immediately learn to make the ribbons move with vigor and grace, without getting them wrapped around ourselves or tangled up in other people's ribbons, really did make us rather nervous at first. But at every session, the admiring looks of passing American students gave us tremendous encouragement, as did Mrs. Kan's unstinting efforts to find the right music and make our equipment. To fit in with different students' free time, Tsui Chen-yu taught lesson after lesson, choreographing our movements and training us, until what had started as a disparate bunch of people began to look more and more like a dance troupe. The Taipei Economic and Cultural Office in Atlanta also helped out with our costumes, and the day of the performance quickly drew near.

On the day, we were first on the program. After the master of ceremonies had briefly introduced Taiwan, the music started. A peddlar played by Hui- ping, with a carrying pole on her shoulder, drew open the curtain for the first act: a fairground scene. Then the audience saw many people, some doing acrobatic tricks, some playing with diabolos, some performing Chinese kungfu, some shouting their wares, along with townsfolk visiting the fair. All in all it was a very lively spectacle. Suddenly little Chiao-chiao, who was playing a child visiting the fair with her mother, burst into tears and began looking for Mom. But this ad-lib addition to the performance sent a ripple of warm laughter running through the audience. The second and third acts were both splendid ribbon dances. After starting as colorful balls, our silk ribbons stretched out into long streamers, sometimes billowing like waves, sometimes curving through the air in pretty arcs, and sometimes dancing like bright butterflies. It really was breathtaking. I think our beautiful ribbons concealed our rather unpracticed movements, and the thunderous applause from the audience gave us tremendous encouragement. Through our dance, we were able to show something of our culture to the international friends in the audience, and even after the performance had ended, people were still talking about it excitedly--it was a great success.

Afterwards I was surprised to discover that by watching all our practice sessions, little Hsuan- hsuan had absorbed the spirit of ribbon dancing. She would take a long towel, or a ribbon made out of lengths of crepe paper stuck together, and dance with real style, thoroughly enjoying herself. She has become the most loyal viewer of that video tape of our performance, and although it is now long past, she still often repeats those words: "Mummy, I want to watch ribbon dancing!"