"You've really offended them! Really!" she insisted, her eyes wide with shock.

My cheeks started tingling, flush with anxiety.

"How?" I asked. "What did I do?"

"When you took their pictures!" she replied.

I had just snapped several shots of a circle of women from the Bouyei ethnic minority in Ping village in Guizhou province. The women were clad in their traditional attire and seated in a town square, where a middle-aged man led their choruses, playing an accordion.

"Oh. I certainly didn't mean to. I'll apologize when they're done," I said, to which she replied: "You can't."

When I asked her why not, she explained that I had to seek forgiveness according to local custom.

She insisted this meant I had to run into their circle during one of their songs, and to show my respect, dance while spinning around.

I responded with an incredulously raised eyebrow and amused smirk.

However, she persisted, proceeding with a rapid-fire spiel listing reasons why I had no choice.

"I'm a local person and know the customs. Even though I'm from the Dong ethnic minority, which is different from the Bouyei, we're familiar with each other.

"You don't want them to think badly of Americans, do you? Because they will.

"Look at my eyes, you will see no lie!" she said, flashing me a set of large, brown peepers that didn't betray any deceit.

She was chipping away at my skepticism, but I was still finding it hard to fathom how any tradition - as traditions usually develop over generations - sprang up around camera use in this far-flung mountainside village.

It didn't matter - rude or not, I wasn't dancing.

Or so I thought, until this woman suddenly grabbed me and flung me into the middle of their circle.

I suddenly found myself face-to-face with a dozen crooning Bouyei women and an accordion player, who appeared at least as surprised as I was about my sudden arrival. As they tilted their heads toward me in curiosity, from where I'd been, seconds ago, standing safely, I heard a woman's voice call out: "Just kidding!"

To the baffled but amused choral team, I turned and explained: "Um hi I just wanted to say I really like your music. It's really great."

They accepted the compliment by repeatedly howling: "Chang ge! Chang ge! (Sing us a song! Sing us a song!)"

I let loose a blitzkrieg of excuses - I don't know any songs; I recently had a cold; I'm too shy - but they weren't having it.

My protests only accomplished attracting attention from a growing number of villagers gathering in the square, gawking and grinning at the prelude to my inevitable performance.

Once the accordionist started playing Jingle Bells, I knew my fate was sealed.

All eyes on me, I began warbling the Christmas carol in a flat and quavering voice that made me remember why I hate karaoke.

Once I'd finished, the women leapt from their stools and began dashing after other foreigners from our media delegation.

The captured ones, including me, were herded into a circle where we were instructed to join hands and begin dancing.

Everyone was smiling and laughing, really enjoying themselves, and snapping a lot - and I mean, a lot - of photos.

(China Daily 09/12/2008 page19