I can't dance, but I did anyway

There are times in the United States when tourism is just a reproduction, an after-image.
The scheduled shoot out in the streets of a Western town, the sepia photos you can take wearing Wild West costumes, butter churning in a colonial village.
Honestly, when I saw the Ethiopian dancing at the touristy restaurant in Addis, I thought it was an approximation of something that once was.
I was wrong.
At 11 p.m., the streets of Gonder were empty and quiet. The only sound came from a small square building with a sign in Amharic.
Along with the sounds of drumming and singing, a warm light poured out of the front door. The music was lively, that it took a moment to adjust to the reality of the place once we walked in.
One room. Linoleum floor. The warm light was coming from one bare bulb. Chairs lined the walls leaving the floor open.
In the center of the room was one woman wearing a white, hand-woven dress singing loudly.
Two women pounded on the drums and an old man stood behind her pulling music out of a one string fiddle.
I'm not sure what it's called - this style of singing.
The woman went from person to person and sang to them.
It was free form and spontaneous. She made it up as she went along. Friends would shout out things for her to sing - something flattering, something funny. Then they would dance - the singer and the subject.
It was the same dance I saw in Addis - shoulders lifting, head moving, the rest of the body still.
When she came to me, she asked my name and pulled me to my feet and belted out a song about me in Amharic. Who knows what it said (I'm probably glad I don't know). I heard my name a few times in the song.
She took off my scarf and tied it aruond my waist and showed me how it is used in the dance.
I mirrored her movements, which got smaller and smaller as our knees bent and we moved closer and closer to the ground. Then up again - spinning around each other leading the spin with one jerking shoulder.
The Ethiopians were hooting and clapping and the fiddle and drums were getting louder and louder.
And for a moment I completely lost myself.