How do African dances dance? Mostly no shyness
Talent or nature?
Unfortunately, I was not given a rhythm or anything that would fit in my fingernail, but on the contrary, Mother Nature gave me a good portion of shyness. And shyness is something that is rarely seen in Angola, and sometimes I feel that the Angolans don't even know the word and its meaning. While with a rhythm in the body, children are already born here.
And it's no wonder, then, that pregnant mothers dance until the day of their birth. I think Africans in general are very talented, and sometimes I think that it is not even talent, but their nature, as for Europeans, is a brisk walk, which in turn is something completely unthinkable for them.
Dance is an integral part of Angolan life, there is hardly one who cannot dance. It's their basic movement right after walking. And it doesn't matter if they are on the street, in a store, at home or somewhere in the office. The moment they hear music, their bodies dance.
Kizomba - National dance of Angola
Angola's national modern dance is the kizomba, which developed sometime in the 1980s. The word kizomba comes from kimbundu language and its meaning is absolutely accurate and perfect. It means a holiday, dance, game or entertainment, which perfectly captures his movements. At least for me: D Kizomba was influenced by the Caribbean dance zouk, which in Angola mixed with Angolan music and semba dance, but also with the pasada, coladeira and mazurka from Cape Verde.
Semba or kuduru?
Tracing the very first national dance that would be typical of Angola is difficult. Every original tribe of Angola, and that there are, had their own, which he considered traditional. In general, however, the most famous is Semba, which also influenced the aforementioned kizomba, which now dominates Angola along with the dancing of kudur teenagers. semba is a dance for couples, but also a musical style that originated in Angola and the slaves brought it to Brazil. It gained popularity in the 1950s. The Angolans are very modern and open people and like new things, so it's no wonder that kizomba now controls the whole country and is considered a national dance, and even small children control the basic steps. Unlike my little one.
My ass as a reason for failure?
Since life in Angola is one big party, my husband took on the task of teaching me at least the basic steps so that the two of us could dance. Most of all, it took me before our wedding to endure this important moment. Every day in our living room following instructions from some youtube channel, my husband was showing off his steps and trying to stir me up a bit. It was a hell of a fight I'd liken throwing peas at a wall.
I tried desperately, and every time I was alone at home, I tried to copy the movements of some African dancer in front of the mirror, with my cell phone in my hand. I had to laugh at myself and I was quite ashamed, looking in the mirror and in front of myself. The movements, completely natural to them, seemed ridiculous and impossible to me. I writhed in my hips as far as I could, but my ass didn't move an inch, let alone bounce in the rhythm of kizomba, up and down, or it shook as the pace of the music picked up.
I began to suspect that it was due to the construction of my buttocks, which, of course, was quite different from the African ones. And that means that I can't dance kizomba for me. It wasn't long before I watched my three-year-old niece at one of the birthday parties, her ass fluttering in rhythm, and I realized it wouldn't be my ass.
An upset white woman.
I had to figure out how I would survive the wedding day without being an inflated white woman who didn't want to dance with anyone. Because it was absolutely clear that I would not move further into the wedding day than the basic steps in serving a whiteboard. And the others in danger of dancing with me were in the form of stamped thumbs. I didn't want to risk any of that. Fortunately, the clothes I chose saved me. And the long siding that hid everything and limited my kizomba to just the basic steps. I watched the others enjoy it and dance merrily, even with a pot on their heads, just to enjoy it and it was fun. I couldn't sit, it was such a beautiful day and evening, it didn't work out for me anymore and I joined my sister-in-law and started bouncing with them.
So I jumped, they danced. Suddenly I didn't hear the inner voice keep repeating to me how embarrassing and stupid I looked, urging me to sit in the nearest chair. I didn't see myself in front of the mirror, and those comic moments of my self-study didn't run before my eyes. I have found that it is not important at all whether or not you have a rhythm in your body from God, but that it only depends on your mood.
If you want to dance, dance!
Just when you want to dance, you dance. And maybe it will give in over time, just like it did. I realized that the basis of dance is to cough up how I look at it, or what others say and just enjoy it.
However, I must admit that I am grateful that the national dance is kizomba, which is very decent, romantic and together unlike kudur. And that people here behave differently. It doesn't matter if you master the dance steps to number one, or how much talent you have or don't have. Dancing is fun here and it doesn't matter how good you are.
Due to the great popularity of this dance, many so-called Lusitanian Africans sang songs in the rhythm of kizomba. Well-known singers of this genre from Angola are Caló Pascoal, Don Kikas and the Verdades brothers. Paulinha's famous singer is also from Angola. Modern kizomba singers include Caló Pascoal, Nsoki, Yola Semedo, Paulo Matomina, Coreon Dú and many more.