Try dancing with three legs
In life, God cannot bless you with everything. I have a good ear for music but I cannot dance to save my life. I am a klutz (setshururu) and could not dance even if my life depended on it.
I am known to dance the Macarena and jestingly do something between stonkana and salsa when a house song is playing. A friend of mine often jokes that I dance like an Englishman, so there I guess, you pretty much get the picture. However, dancing is something that seems to run in Africans’ blood. An African who cannot dance is often socially ostracized like he/she has a nose growing on their forehead. I am sometimes forced to dance. In most cases, music runs through my veins and combined with the golden waters, I get excited and start to shake. Sometimes it is not my own doing, like being asked to be a bride’s maid. That is why I just never dance. But this has not always been the case because several years ago before I lost gravity and everything started going South, I was a pretty good dancer.
I entered almost every talent show that I suspect my parents feared that I would one day come home and declare that I wanted to be a mmasekanta. Thank goodness that didn’t happen. Somewhere between having babies and having some sense knocked into my head, I dumped the idea of gyrating for a living. Pardon the intellectual snob in me but as much as I appreciate people who perform for a living, for me it would be an insult to my dignity to hop, wiggle and gyrate to put food on the table. I think I would rather walk around wearing pumps with holes in them thank you very much.
But I am starting to think that in my next life, I should come back as a dancer, a choreographer, to be specific. Perhaps one would taste the fine life. I mean, look at the likes of Somizi Mhlongo for example. The 41-year-old openly homosexual man left school at Grade 10 (Form three) but today he can get paid half a million for a mere two days’ work; talk about hustle. I guess when you have important fellas like Thapelo Letsholo as “your boy” and dangling red peppers before your eyes, anything is possible.
It is strange how some people work hard with the hope to make a better living for themselves while some can make good money for something as simple as dancing.
Just jiggle about, twirl and contort into acrobatic moves that would stun even a yoga instructor and take a half-metre cheque home. Phew! Oh, by the way, Somizi is my cousin. He is my late grandmother’s aunt’s father’s wife’s uncle to the younger brother of his sister. I might just ask for a cut.
That would be my good service to my country – to bring back the money to Botswana. And there you are sweating it out from 8 to 5 everyday but won’t even make that much in a year.
C’esta la vie. Who said life should be fair anyways? If you think that life is unfair, try dancing with three legs!