MY BREATHE OF DANCE

My story begins and as it should, from when I was a little boy, I treasured friends; Holidays were my favorite days of the calendar and especially the December holidays, one you may well reckon as the Christmas holidays. In this my Golden days “soda kubwa” was the drink, all inclusive, economical though am not sure if that’s the reason why lots of Kids competitions favored the 1ltr soda as the ultimate prize for the winner(s). Don’t forget this because later in this blog you will meet with soda kubwa and my deepest desire is that you meet them with the enthusiasm it so rightly deserves.

SODA KUBWA

The story of the day I first won a present for dancing and seeing a smile on my parents face was definitely special. As an African child, traditions state that we make our parents proud and to do it at an early age was something.When the lights were turned on and music started playing. I opened my heart and accessed my art creative, I danced to the music of Papa Wemba, The Maroon Commandos and I was good. I won every round, beat every opponent I competed/battled; I smiled because I felt free and jovial. Forget the cheers, what amazed me was the look in my father’s eyes. He most definitely had never pictured me in this light or was it scary? The fact that his son would follow an artistic path which was neither common nor popular. I didn’t know what bothered him most but the thought (whatever it was) must have dried his lips and gave him a cold chill down his spine.

I remember the last battle I won, before we even started I could smell the fear (Oh well that’s just dramatic) I could see the fear in my opponent’s eyes and the crowd cheered me on: this made me stronger.

My dad said, “Passion is and will forever be the way you make me smile.” Back then I never understood, even one little bit of what he meant but now, now I do get, I do understand. Over that brief period of brilliance I was happy and comfortable. When I got back to Nairobi, I went under my bed, took the wires I had stacked to build myself the ultimate car model that would rule the hood, I took under the mattress; batteries I had bought, gave them all to my mother  for her ever-ready torch. And I was done with being the experimental kid in science and architecture! I became the dancer kid.

My high school life...

THE IMPRINT OF DANCE ON ME.

The MC has the line up in his hands. All entertainment parties in a predetermined order. For the few times we've gotten the honor to perform at any event my crew has never been the trail blazer so we get to see what some of the crews have to contribute to this art which is dance. Nervousness is building up in me and someone is assuring me how it will be okay. I start to come up with backup moves just in case I forget the routine we've practiced, especially in areas where I feel are 'weak'. 

NERVOUSNESS IS BUILDING UP IN ME

I promise myself to be perfect next time because the mental torture at the last minute is something I'd easily trade for....anything. I'm finally feeling settled and there's a flip being completed on the stage. We all shout in support of the skill. I start to think whether there's someone screaming because they fear the dancer will fall and somehow break his pelvis, both his jaws, 7 fingers, a good number of vertebrae and the floor itself. Either way, we're all appreciating his moves. In no time, we're clapping for the crew as it leaves the stage. And we're up next. By this time we're already at the backstage waiting for our name to be called. We quickly say the grace and I feel good that God is involved.LL

 We've been told to get ready as the MC reads some jokes he's just googled to stall the audience. The DJ has our music, the MC is raising his thumb to us to confirm that we're ready. (But really, he means "Be ready or just get your unpreparedness onstage")......It's time. One crew member is quickly reminding us to look at one particular person in the audience while dancing, preferably a girl, for obvious reasons. There's a small laughter from everyone at that.

The name is finally called. BOOM CREW! 

BOOM CREW

We're making our entrance to the stage and we're met by a loud cheer from a very lively audience. Or scared. Who knows? Good news is they're cheering and we're rest assured we don't look like recruits from a hobo camp. As we get into our positions, all sound fades out. I can't see a single person in the audience,not even that random girl I was supposed to find and focus on. Maybe it's because of the blinding light from spot lights directed towards the stage. I doubt that's the reason though. I'm leaving the world and I'll be back when we're done performing. My heart's beating a bit hard. I'm not that worried about blundering now. But just like every other time, I'm sure all I'll hear is the speakers doing their job.

The music starts.We start to move...

This is in the words of Stanley Kariuki, a Boom Crew member.

Stanley Kariuki AKA BBQY AYEKEI

Facebook:  Stanley Kariuki , Boom crew

Twitter: @stanl_eysays , @Boom_crew