There are a few facts in life that I have grown to accept: dogs are better than cats, white rice is better than brown and African men are better dancers than their North American counterparts.
This inferiority complex of mine was verified once again on Sunday. Here was the scene. We were at a Brethren in Christ church in Durban. It’s in the heart of the city. The church is one room that could fit about 50 or 60 people. Yet the sound system is cranked up close to max volume so the speakers periodically flare-up with feedback. The minister has just finished his sermon in French and the band starts cranking the tunes. This is definetely a different postlude then I’m use to. But I kind of like it.
Some church members start contorting their bodies in rhythm with the band at the front of the church. I leaned over to my colleague and said, “Now this is Africa.” Like a true Swiss Mennonite I do the only thing we know how. I tap my toe in time with the beat of the drum. Surely this token gesture can be understood as me “feeling” the music. The minister didn’t feel the same way. He came over to me and urged me to join the dance group forming at the front. “Je suis un mauvaise danceur.” I said in my broken french. He laughed and moved on. “Phewww” I had just dodged a major bullet. But only a minute later a middle-aged woman grabbed my hand and pulled me to the front. I had to be a gentlemen.
I began to two step. You know swaying back and forth bringing your feet together and then apart. “No, No.” The lady shrieked. “You have to feel the music.” She began to feel the music while I tried to insert a little more pep into my glorified swaying. A man took over the training reigns. He grabbed his belt and proceeded to rotate his thighs in opposite directions, sort of like Elvis hip movements. “You try,” he said. “No, No. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to see that,” I responded. “No, try,” he commanded. Rotating one thigh isn’t exactly easy for me let alone two in opposite directions while grabbing the place where the belt should have been on my pants. Needless to say my attempt at the double-thigh rotation ended up looking like a swarm of bees had been dumped down my pants. I was off-balance and jerky. There was no rhythm. There was no feel; just a good effort.
To my great relief, I looked over to see my fellow MCCer Andrew with the same puzzled look on his face and an equally awkward attempt at Elvis hips. At least I wasn’t the only one out of their comfort zone. The music stopped and we returned to our seats invigorated. I thought to myself now this is Africa.
Simon Says 