Each of us remembers once upon a time when they were good at one form of dance that was the rage. For me it was the break-dance courtesy of MJ’s Thriller – imagine a fat short spoilt kid trying to wiggle and jump up and down and you will figure out what I mean. It later grew into funk in the days of Ice Ice Baby and soon grew into ragamuffin, and eventually Latino. That is when I lost track!
Each of us remembers once upon a time when they were good at one form of dance that was the rage. For me it was the break-dance courtesy of MJ’s Thriller – imagine a fat short spoilt kid trying to wiggle and jump up and down and you will figure out what I mean.
It later grew into funk in the days of Ice Ice Baby and soon grew into ragamuffin, and eventually Latino. That is when I lost track!
Dancing has always been the thing that hopefully during our teenage years would weave you into a girl’s heart especially if you happened to be shy and stupid like me. In secondary school years, every girl wanted to be Patra and every guy Shabba Ranks.
Synchronized waist gyrating between a boy and girl was the rage, especially in evenings after a Saturday academic seminar when students finally got to know each other properly exchanging names (no mobiles only snail mail). Besides that was the only way of getting near a girl.
But the thing everybody dreamt about but dreaded at the same time was the famous slow dance. The only chance of ever getting some was during end of year Youth Christian Society or Interact Club party when other sister clubs from nearby schools would join you. So during those events the hottest item was the opening of the dance.
If you were a club official you would get to slow dance your opposite number in a girls school and in those few minutes, you would instantly become famous, at least for one week. The trick was the getting close to your opposite number and the fireworks that came with it.
As we grew older and bolder, the slow dance became just another thing, dancing became more enjoyable, more about fun than just trying to get close. Our high school years were punctuated by how many social dances you had with some prestigious girl schools and again the slow dance was the item.
But by our time, it was much more the new Latino – the Bailamo’s of this world.
So you can understand why someone would be nostalgic about dance - but not anymore. These days, the younger generation has turned dance into some sort of war or gymnastics.
The other day an acquaintance much younger than me challenged me to do Salsa and I was like this is the easier thing in the world. To cut the whole story short I was left with an aching back for days.
Now you have to appreciate the acrobatics the Latin Americans invested in that dance, the throwing themselves around like they didn’t have bones.
Salsa itself is more attractive because it is quite an erotic dance without being too sensual at the same time something you can confidently do in front of people and not attract stares best left for tabloid society pages – the movement of bodies perfected into a seamless art, with synchronized body movements yet there is actually little body contact.
Enough of Salsa, but what do you do when a female young enough to be your young sister asks you to dance and ends up making you bend her over amidst a crowd of her cheering peers?
You don’t want to try that at home. Not that I am the one to freak out of any dare devil tricks, but be sure that you won’t see me dancing again.
I decided that I have now really grown old and my time on the dance floor is up and perhaps my favourite position in the club is now on a chair next to the wall as a mere spectator.
I wish you an athletic Sunday!