Entering the village is like walking into an adventure movie set simultaneously in the 19th and 21st centuries. Brown infants frolic naked, welders bang on their ironwork, a fishmonger cleans the morning's brightly colored catch. Chickens peck and scratch. Women bustle through their errands, housework and laundry, occasionally succumbing to the music and breaking into dance, fingers a'wag. You may see the same grandmother I did, sitting on her porch, bouncing a toddler in her lap to the rhythm and singing, "You will dance. You will dance. You will dance!" Stoic dogs sleep on sidewalks at regular intervals, as if assigned by some higher canine authority.