The steady beating of small hands on drums echoes through the dusty streets of Extension 9. A crowd of children snakes its way to the community hall. Tiny arms eagerly clasp colouring books, puzzle boxes, soccer balls, crayons – and pairs of gumboots. The children’s excitement is finally unleashed in the hall as they assemble puzzle pieces, strew crayons across opened colouring books and push their feet into oversized gumboots.
To the constant drumbeat, four boys, their multi-coloured boots flashing and stomping, begin to dance. Bending low, hands tap and slap the rubber boots in a transfixing display of coordination and rhythm.
So far we have been watching, on an assignment for Grocott's Mail to observe these kids at play. But now we are drawn in.
The steady beating of small hands on drums echoes through the dusty streets of Extension 9. A crowd of children snakes its way to the community hall. Tiny arms eagerly clasp colouring books, puzzle boxes, soccer balls, crayons – and pairs of gumboots. The children’s excitement is finally unleashed in the hall as they assemble puzzle pieces, strew crayons across opened colouring books and push their feet into oversized gumboots.
To the constant drumbeat, four boys, their multi-coloured boots flashing and stomping, begin to dance. Bending low, hands tap and slap the rubber boots in a transfixing display of coordination and rhythm.
So far we have been watching, on an assignment for Grocott's Mail to observe these kids at play. But now we are drawn in.
The kids bring two pairs of gumboots. We put them on – and immediately feel their cumbersome weight hinder our movements. Ushered into the line of dancers, we experience gumboot dancing from the inside.
For the rest of the afternoon we battle to conquer a very simple routine, our efforts rewarded by much laughter and applause.
We soon realise that, compared to our young counterparts, we lack finesse and our coordination is almost non existent. Nevertheless, the young dancers are very patient with us.
We find it exhausting and we need regular breaks to stretch our backs and soothe tingling red hands. To tell the truth, we never fully grasped the routine. But we had a great time and enjoyed every moment of the experience, especially when we start to find our groove and forget our embarrassment.
Sweating, sore and stiff, we go back the next day for more – now far more respectful of the skill and dedication required.
Watching us is supervisor Vuyo Booi, a full-time volunteer of the Sakhuluntu Cultural Group, who organises these afternoons for children in the community to come and dance, sing and play.
Booi, who wears a red, green and yellow Rastafarian beanie, says he loves spending afternoons with the children: “The best of love that I have, I give to these kids,” Booi said.
It was a great opportunity to learn from such talented children. On our last afternoon there, we hadn't managed to learn a single dance – but we left feeling we had accomplished something more.
