Hazard on the dance floor

By Bate Felix

George Bernard Shaw believed dancing to be “a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire, legalised by music”.

I certainly don’t need lessons on perpendicular ways of expressing my desires. It’s just that these don’t usually take the form of dancing. If you prefer a meaningful tête-à-tête on a stool near the bar, to showing off on the dance floor, then you get my point.

So why was I trudging to the Bozz to enter the world of rhythmic movements? This is where the campus society, Dance@Wits, holds its classes every week.

Being 90kg on a 172cm frame, a tad too healthy around the love handles, does not help matters, especially when you have plodded all your life, instead of learning the art of graceful locomotion.

But there comes a point in life when it becomes imperative to face your demons. Besides, when you see an offer that could introduce you to a whole new world (and new opportunities for meaningful tête-à-têtes) - and all for R1,80 an hour - you’d be a fool not to check it out. That’s what I thought anyway.

My curiosity was stirred. Who would offer dance lessons for such a ridiculously low sum? What kind of lessons would they offer?

Dance @ Wits, for those who don’t know, used to be known as the ballroom dancing society. They have been around for over half a century. A great deal has happened since then, and some vibrant Witses have decided to give the society a new life.

The first thing I noticed was the smile on people’s faces. It eased the knot in my stomach and gave me the courage to approach. I was welcomed with open arms and invited to join the group.

“They are all beginners,” vice chairperson, Helen Robertson, said, allaying my fears of being the only clumsy clodhopper on the dance floor. “Everything will be fine. Just do as they do.”

Dance @ Wits offer 12 hours of various dance lessons each week, for R500 per year. This works out at R1, 80 an hour. There are a range of choices, from social ballet, to pantsula and Latin.

Such lessons in a professional studio would cost R50 per half hour for beginners and between R200 and R300 a month for couples.

From Monday through Thursday, from 5.30 to 8.30pm, they offer one-hour lessons of various dances to the more than 200 members of the club. Sessions are taught by professional instructors.

Before my first lesson, I knew nothing about tap dancing except that people tapped their feet and made funny rhythmic noises.

“Learning tap is like learning how to read,” said Trish McKenna, the instructor. “There are 22 single sounds that you can make with your feet. Like the alphabet, the sounds don’t go together.”

As a beginner, I learnt the basic movements and the sounds I could make. The first six taps involved making a slight noise with the ball of my feet. Then I learnt the forward and backward taps.

It didn’t take me long to realise that dancing involves a definite form of physical exercise. I was out of breath by the fourth movement, and my knees could no longer support me. My feet kept thumping the floor, instead of creating the gentle tap demonstrated by the graceful Ms McKeena.

But I persevered. Ballroom dancing is a different ballgame. It involves partners and complicated synchronised movements. This is where debutantes have problems. Tempers have been known to flare as toes are stepped on.

Ballroom competition is not advisable for beginners since they have first to master the basic technicalities. Every movement revolves around the man. It would have been perilous for a novice like me to venture into it.

Watching the dancers from the side, I thought again of Bernard Shaw. Wits BCom alumnus, Bongani Nkosi, confirmed my evil thoughts when he jokingly confided that he came “for the chicks”.

“I mean look at them n’fethu, and tell me what you think?” he said.

For Itumeleng Manaka, a BCom student, it was “meeting people, going places, outings and parties” that attracted him. “And you do meet decent people,” added his friend, Siphiwe Hlongwane, also a BCom student.

Others are drawn by the challenge that dancing poses. “It is difficult. That is why I want to know how to do it,” said Llewellyn Moorkey, an aeronautic engineering first year.

“I need exercise and I hate the gym. It’s counter-productive for me. I dance for social reasons and, besides, it’s a lot of fun,” said Gila Berman a fourth year medical student.

Leaving the Bozz after my third lesson, this time Cha Cha and Samba, I could not help taking the sensual strides that come naturally after an hour spent on both dances. Hey Shakira, anytime you feel like meeting up on the dance floor, I’m up to the challenge.