Dancing in El Salvador

The junior class recently completed an amazing dance production, a long standing EA tradition. Front and center and loving every minute of the performance was my student, Alex. She is not exaggerating; she is always dancing. Here's Alex.

Once again, I'm late. The show starts in half an hour and Nené de Roeder asked us to be dressed and ready in the camerinos an hour before the performance starts. The line for the entrance looks a mile and a half long, and most of the faces I see are familiar. When you live in a country so small, there is not a day that you don't run into someone you know.

I rush in after a quick kiss on the cheek from my mom and a 'Suerte, ¡baila bonito mona!' (Never in her life has my mother called me the traditional word for girl, 'cipota,' opting instead to refer to me as 'female monkey.') Dashing into the first backstage room, I discover that it's the younger girl's changing room; ours is the other one. I power walk to the Senior's/Junior's room to drop off my things before sneaking a peak into the theatre from the stage. People have not even started to come in. In unadulterated Salvadoran tradition, five o'clock means six o'clock, or maybe even six thirty. God, I love this country.

I hear familiar voices saying 'Niña, you were supposed to be here forty minutes ago!' With quick pecks on the cheek and sincere hugs, I greet my friends from Jazzing. Some of the girls have been dancing for around fourteen years; others have just been there for a couple of months, mostly transfers from other dance studios. I have been dancing on and off for around eleven years. By on and off I mean attending classes; everyone knows I cannot spend more than fifteen minutes without at least getting up on my toes. Ironically, I don't even dance pointe.

PRIMERA LLAMADA

After this announcement we all go to pseudo stretch. Eight grand pliés á la seconde will have to do, for the butterflies in our stomachs and adrenaline pulsing in our veins allow us no more. After the quick sweat, we fix our makeup, at least the punctual ones do; my kindred spirits and I begin applying concealer, foundation, blush, bronzer, mascara, eyeliner, so on and so forth.

SEGUNDA LLAMADA

The mellow male murmur announces the show is starting in around five minutes. A couple of us rush out to the crowded stage to practice the choreographies, counting out loud as to not forget a single step. Chainé derecha, chainé izquierda, dos, tres, cuatro, step, step, open, close, siete y ocho. Paso, paso, up, down, cinco, seis, siete, y ocho. Pasé, stag leap, cinco y seis, out, and in. The euphoria is palpable.

ESTA ES LA TERCERA LLAMADA. COMENZAMOS. ('This is the third and final call. We begin.')

Twice every year, Jazzing Dance Studio holds a show in Teatro Presidente, which is located next to Museo de Arte MARTE. Vivrajazz Studio, Escuela Nacional de Ballet
Morena Celarie, Fundación de Ballet El Salvador and other dance troupes also leave their sweat and hard work in Teatro Presidente's stage. Besides the ballet folklórico, as it is called, there are many genres of dance regularly practiced in this little lost country in Central America. Traditional ballet is taking secondary stage as the hip hop and 'street' music take over the scene. The most renowned of these schools is Fusión, owned by Billy Grimaldi. Fusión teaches street jazz, a hybrid of styles as the name suggests.

Another type of dance studio in El Salvador is the jazz-focused ones. The two main are Jazzing Dance Studio and Vivrajazz Studio. Their main show is jazz, but they teach ballet, pointe, and tap too. These two schools compete internationally in Dance Masters of America and Dance Educators of America competitions. Both these academies normally get at least a silver medal if not high silver or gold.

These relatively large groups of students taking part in the dance scene of El Salvador supported my theory of the international influence on dance, as well as in all other aspects of the Salvadoran culture. Around eighty five percent of the groups danced songs or remixes containing hip hopesque or 'street' American music.

Whether it's the classical elegance of ballet, the sultry sounds of tango, the energy of jazz dancers, or the blood boiling heat of salsa dancers, anything can be found in the petit country I call my home. If you will excuse me, I must now go put on stocking and jazz slippers to practice for our presentation on December the second: One Hundred and One Dalmatians. And I'm a thief, not a pup.