BALLROOM DANCING IN THE BLACK TOWNSHIPS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Patricia Paleman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Thembi – dance student

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Tato, 11 years

 

 

Siswe, 10 years

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Alina Nkosi - mother

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

David Nkosi - father

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Yvonne Lepere – mother

 

 

QUESTION

 

Itumeleng, 12 years

 

QUESTION

 

Itumeleng

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Elvis Paleman

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Itumeleng, 12 years

 

INTERVIEW

Vicky, 11 years

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTERVIEW

Dance Judge

 

 

 

 

 

 

Siswe and Tato are like millions of other kids. They help with the washing up only when their mother makes them. Alina works as a household help, earning about 30 US dollars a month. She’s got seven children. Siswe and Tato are her youngest.

 

They’re different from the rest of their age group. Instead of playing football on the streets or hanging out with friends, three times a week they do to a dance school. It’s not African music that turns them on – it’s ballroom dancing – that’s why they own suits with bowties.

 

Both of them are so good on the dance floor that nearly every weekend they take part in competitions. And, it’s not only them. In the black townships, ballroom dancing is a hit.

 

From Chacha to Samba and waltzes – everything can be learnt here. They youngest are just out of nappies. The older take their training here at the Ennerdale dance school near Johannesburg very seriously indeed.

 

Patricia Paleman, a former ballet dancer, started the school three years ago. She’s been teaching ballroom dancing with great success.

 

It was difficult at first to get boys to come because some boys liked to tease them or to say they’re monkey, or they’re gay or call them other names. But now you get boys here who are so determined they love it so much.

 

When the 9 to 20 year olds have learnt dancing properly, they immediately pass on their knowledge – like 11 year old Vicky. The demand for courses is so great everyone must help out – even Patricia’s husband.

 

I want to dance. I want to do contest. I want to do everything.

 

These children come out of the poorest areas of South Africa. Shanty homes, mothers and fathers without work. South Africa has a black population of about 30 million. Over half of them live under the poverty line. Every sport children want to play is too expensive for their parents. Particularly when they want to learn to dance – like Tato and Siswe.

 

If I play soccer, they cut me and I get hurt and that’s not nice. I rather choose dancing. Keeps me off the streets.

 

I like the teaching that keeps you fun, it doesn’t keep you away from school, doesn’t disturb your school, nothing.

 

In South Africa there are around 500 dance schools, 200 more than during the Apartheid era. Many of the parents struggle to pay the fees.

 

I haven’t got enough money because my salary is so little that I can’t afford to support seven kids in this house. Because they need money for the school, for the school fees, for the uniforms and food and they need something to eat at school.

 

It’s what I need that they should be like that. I remember my father when he brought me to school he said ‘I want that my son should be more than me’.

 

Itumeleng (pronounced Ituu/melen) used to play football until his brother started bringing his dance trophies home. Since then, there’s been no peace.

 

The 12-year old begged his mother to enrol him at dance school and buy him a suit, on monthly hire purchase payments. Every six months he needs new dance shoes – which cost 200 Rand, about 40 dollars. That’s the amount that’s missing at the end of every month.

 

But his success speaks for itself. Itumeleng has brought half these prizes home. The rest belongs to his older brother who gave up dancing a year ago.

 

It makes me happy. Most of the time he’s not on the streets like the other boys. The dancing keeps him busy and he has time for school.

 

What do you like better, football or dancing?

 

Dancing.

 

Why?

 

Because I think I’ve got more talent in dancing than in soccer.

 

Vicky’s from a mixed family. She’s Itumeleng’s dance partner.

 

A short while ago this combination of a black boy, dancing with a mixed girl from better circumstances, would have been unthinkable.

 

Both have won a lot of prizes together. This is the last dance practice before one of the most important competitions of the year for young dancers.

 

Our club takes any race. We do not discriminate. Secondly our kids know that if you bring for instance a black kid into the club, he is considered human and nothing else.

 

It’s not always like this. In other dance schools the races remain apart. Over 50,000 dancers take part in the weekly competitions. Eighty per cent of them aren’t white.

 

I think I have a chance to win. Because I think I’m the best.

 

Sometimes, when we are dancing we get very angry with each other, especially in competitions. Then you just want to leave and get a new partner.

 

Now it’s too late. The most important dance even is taking place here in Sun City. Dancing is the third favourite sport of the black children, after football and boxing.

 

All the pupils have been waiting and saving for this competition. They’ve sold cakes, drinks and t-shirts, washed cars and given dance lessons. They’ve done everything so their club could take part.

 

The excitement is enormous. The various groups dance over three days. Social differences are swept aside – rich or poor is irrelevant, what matters is winning.

 

Patricia acts as a mother. Many of her pupils are very short of money. She shares hers with them.

 

None of the parents of the Ennerdale Dance Club could afford to come. The two-hour drive to Sun City, and the stay, simply costs too much.

 

First of all it’s just a warm up. Then it gets serious.

 

The children are divided into groups – according to age and ability.

 

Siswe and his partner started dancing together two years ago. In the under 10 to 12 year old age group there are only a few white pairs. They don’t do too well against the black South Africans.

 

Tato and Nicole also have a good chance of winning. Both have good rhythm, good style and technique. They’ve been training regularly together for a couple of years.

 

This is the next step for the dancers. As youngsters, they can only wear simple clothes. For the adults, it’s very expensive. Many cannot afford the amount of money needed. And, because of a lack of money, they give up dancing.

 

This is the judge – a dance teacher from the Western Cape. Four hundred and ninety couples have come with him to Sun City. Many have made it into the final round.

 

Many of the dancers, around 95 per cent, are black – five per cent are white. It’s slowly happening in the rest of South Africa too. I don't know what it is. I don't know if it’s just that we are seeing major numbers of dancers and the white are not actually diminishing but they are being overcrowded by the blacks.

 

Siswe and Tamy have made it. Out of hundreds of dancers they’ve been placed fourth – just like Itumeleng and Vicky.

 

After three days of competitions, ten couples from Patricia’s dance school are taking home trophies. But the biggest surprise is still to come – for Patricia as well. Tato and Nicole have won first prize. Not bad for a young eleven year old kid from the black townships of South Africa.

 

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