Damn before Saturday night, I was convinced that I couldn’t dance even if my short life depended on it (my sisters still say I can’t) but I realised that if you relax, let loose you could pretty much do anything if you set mind to it, even if some of my dance moves might have caused the King of Pop (dead as he is) to turn in his grave.
Donning on my best attire, with a dazzling date by my side I was sure that the evening couldn’t get any better. After arriving at our destination (and yes we were chauffeured there) at the opulent and stylish Cape Sun International Hotel we were greeted by Colgate smiling waiters with drinks on their shiny trays. I did say it was a luxurious affair.
Dubbed Oscar Night (and it was that impressive) the ladies in their beautiful evening gowns could give the residents of Tinseltown a serious run for their money on the red carpet any day.
After the routine table sitting, introductions of MC, getting acquainted with your tablemates followed by abysmal comedians (it was worse than an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardesians) there was a divine buffet dinner and a lot of posing for photos.
Now the reason for my writing this blog! The dancing!
Competent band at hand with a vocalist that can teach a thing or two about singing to some wannabes (looking @Chommee,Khanyisile Mbau) the zealous youths took to the floor.
In their high high high heels (how they walk in those shoes is a mystery to me) the ladies rushed to the floor accompanied by their male counterparts to dance the night away, literally. Black, White, Coloured, Indian (not that it matters) peeps hit the floor with some great and not so good moves.
I was one of those tentative ‘dancers’ because of the reviews my family and friends would give me for my dancing. With no help from Booze (it was juice all the way) the hall turned to a dancing frenzy that rivalled the dancing sequence scenes of Footloose. Proving that you do not need alcohol to have a GREEEEEAT time!
Not wanting to make this about race but the blacks particularly the black ladies do know how to set the floor on fire. Whether it be intimate dancing with their respective partners or Janet Jackson styled dancing they always brought on their best (heels and all).
The guys were not far behind with everything from pantsula to moves that I have seen only Whacko Jacko perfect. The statement that ‘white people can’t dance’ is now just an unfounded generalisation in my book. The guys I saw there were doing everything from sika le keke to the ever popular ibusi.
From time to time the ever famous circle would be opened (so to speak) and a brave enough dame and lad would take to the floor on their own in the circle. Being cheered on by the crowd the guys and girls took center stage one after the other to show us what they got. Even I with my two left feet managed to take the stage and pull out some moves while I don’t know I had.
Like I said, before Saturday I would have never attempted dancing in front of a crowd because of my past experiences and being constantly reminded that dancing was out for me. Maybe it still isn’t, point is who cares?
What I realised that night is that it’s not about being perfect, trained, professional or attending the most prestigious academy’s to learn the art of dance.
It’s about letting go, letting loose, not caring about other people and just taking to the floor and dancing your heart out.
Go on try it, you might just surprise yourself.
