Word: clappings
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...Cesaire's skill with the language has provoked many people to conclude that his poems are merely intellectual word games, but the play of words and rhythms is precisely one of the ways Cesaire infuses French with the elements of negritude. In "Batouque," the title word is like the clap of hands, regularly punctuating the phrases as clapping in a chant. The words tumble forth and build to a feverish pitch that is drilled into the mind by the incessant chorus batouque...
...choir stall was crammed with hushed listeners. As the last tones of Johann Sebastian Bach's Cantata for Soprano and Bass, No. 32 floated away, there was silence. Then, in an unexpected gesture, the tall, white-haired Bishop of Perpignan arose, raised his hands and gave the first clap, signaling an end to the church ban on applause. As bald little Pablo Casals bowed from the podium, the 2,000 listeners clapped so thunderously that a piece of plaster shook loose from the high roof, clattered into the church...
...first five years. Gary Carter says the Expos fans "have more loyalty to a great display of baseball skill than to the home team alone. When the other side makes a good play they don't sit on their hands like a lot of American fans." Often they clap their hands to the tune of The Happy Wanderer. "When you're on a roll and going good," says Steve Rogers, Montreal's best pitcher, "it's nothing to have them give you six standing ovations in a single game." Rogers can think of a few negatives...
...third set continued to be rather high-powered, but while Penn played several strong points and their fans continued to clap and shout. Harvard began taking control, as if the match had been theirs all along. Each rally was played as if for match point, with Harvard coming out on top, as they did in the final set, 6-4, icing a 7-2 Crimson victory...
...except in these packed alleys, with their columns of patient children waiting like tiny, doomed sentries for the lava to roll down the mountain. The band struck up, much louder than before; the processions started, twice as brilliant. The band was playing a marching song and the crowd was clapping to it. Unfreezing her hands, Charlie set down her little girl and started to clap too. . . and now it was the turn of the fishermen's union, represented by a sedate yellow van decked in pictures of Arafat, with a giant paper fish, painted red, white and black...