Nasty, crazy things our parents did during the village dance

News that counties at the Kenyan coast and in western and Nyanza plan to or have banned so-called ‘disco matanga’ is likely not to go down well with people of a certain generation. These are men and women mostly in their 40s, 50s and above who have nostalgia and fond memories of the village dance, of which ‘disco matanga’ was part. And despite frowning upon twerking, ‘bend over’ and other related dirty dancing styles that are much-loved by youth of today, we discovered the older folks did even nastier thing during the village dance.

Where they lost virginity

“It was through the village dance that some of us got wives and husbands. They are memorable because it was at such events that some of us lost our virginity. It was there that some of us first acquired kisonono (Gonorrhoea), Kaswende (syphilis) and all sorts of strange ailments. There being no condoms and ‘morning after’ pills back then, some of us sired some of our children there. Basically, banning them is tantamount to attrition of culture,” whines Titus Kibet, a 56-year-old who, decades later, is still nursing hangovers of village dances he attended in his heydays.

For the uninitiated, a few decades back before urbanization, which has led to sprouting of towns with modern night clubs where urban dwellers go to unwind, most Kenyans who grew up in rural areas had the village dance perhaps as the only common form of wild leisure activity.

Even today, as the young and old in our cities flocked night clubs to dance themselves crazy to Hip-hop, Rhumba, soul, Rock and Roll and RnB’s, there are Kenyans in rural outposts who also have almost similar mad fun but village style. Night village dances popularly known as ‘discos’ trace their origin back to the teenage days of our grandfathers and great grandfathers.

Moments to relish

These are entirely different parties compared to what happens in our city clubs. While the ones in towns and cities are well-organized, complete with state-of-the-art music systems, colorful neon lights and comfortable places to sit or dance, the village ones are something else.

In fact, it’s only now that the village dance has slightly changed into a variation of the original concept. Back in the day, the village dance only took place during Christmas festivities, before or after a wedding, a funeral or as a celebration for initiates who had just passed out.

How team mafisi gatecrushed bash

“The rarity of such occasions made them a moment to relish. That’s why some went bonkers and even did the unthinkable like eloping or siring children with strangers they met that very night. The local dance was such a big deal that some revelers would travel for kilometers, just to attend it,” says Kibet, with fond memories.

It is not that these parties had special performances by paid artistes, dance crews or special appearances by celebrities or socialites. Kibet says, unlike today where the richest man walks away with the most beautiful woman, back in the day the best dancer had all the hot girls for him.

As if to suggest the whole concept of so-called ‘Team Mafisi’ was in existence then, Kibet says the organizers always had a hard time dealing with crafty gate crushers. “Despite not showing up with ‘entry fee’, which, in some cases, comprised of two or three girls, some cunning men would smuggle themselves into the venue, only to run off with the beautiful women,” laughs Kibet, adding: “The boys of yore were smooth operators. Once someone landed a catch, they would duck into the nearby maize plantation or banana grooves and finish their business and return to the dance floor”.

He goes on: “These were not the sort of places you took your girlfriend. Oh, boy! Some of the things we did in the bushes! Only God knows! That was the golden era when, strangely, deadly diseases were very rare. Today, if you try some of the reckless things we did, like taking five different strangers in the banana grooves in one night just because they can’t resist you, you will die my friend”.

Village VIPS AND celebrities

There were neither VIP lounges nor celebrities to sit in them. The only individual who enjoyed near-VIP treatment and celebrity status was the DJ or the owner of the music player.

“Owning a ‘kinanda‘ (disk music player) or a big cassette player was a status symbol of sorts. Like moths to light bulb, women would swarm such men or the DJ and give them TLC (tender loving care), with some playfully stroking their beard and others lovingly rubbing their potbellies,” chuckles Nicholas Wendo, a 61-year-old music lover who actively participated in organizing village dances in his heydays.

Ugly fights over cute girls

Wendo says the owner of the music system was so respected that he was a law unto himself. “Party-goers had to accord him VIP treatment and handle him with care, lest he got annoyed and switched off the music system, ruining the party and leaving revelers stranded,” says Wendo, as he unsuccessfully tries to suppress chuckles. He says the owner of the music system was the one who dictated the music he wanted played.

“Others were, however, mannerless and would abuse the privilege and honour bestowed unto them. For instance, if they saw you with a beautiful woman and they wanted her, they would either, with the aid of the bouncers, snatch her away from you. Or claim you are a nuisance and order the bouncer to kick you out of the party and leave the woman behind, only for him to ‚tune‘ her,” laughs Wendo.

Kenyans were yet to fall in love with European, American and Nigerian music back then. The playlist was mostly made up of South African and Kenyan music. Some of the common hits were by South African musicians such as Pamela Nkutha and Ntombi Marumbini. Anyone trying to propose any other music risked being whisked out by hawk-eyed village ruffians who doubled up as bouncers.

Kelvin Wamalwa, now in his forties, vividly remembers the days he used to attend the village dance. “We would move from village to village each week, attending them,” poses Wamalwa, who is now a civil servant. He adds that each group of villagers who attended such dances had their own set of goons, just in case war erupted, which was the case always anyway. But besides getting girlfriends and wives from such events, some people left with permanent injuries.

“Violence always erupted over beautiful women. Once in a while, somebody would be stabbed or hit with a blunt object,” he says. Wamalwa says that some of his peers who have permanent scars or deformities picked them from the chaos that erupted at the local dance back in the day. “I will never forget the day I was clobbered with a knobkerrie (rungu) and chased out of a village dance after we fought over a woman,” laughs Wamalwa.

How couples hooked up

Another interesting aspect of the village dance were the many marriages that resulted from it. Take Alice Jemutai, for instance, who admits that a good number of her friends got wives and husbands from the village dance. “Actually, some, especially women, were either bullied or kidnapped into marriage by some of the bad boys of those days,” she says.

She makes light of the then sad state of affairs by giving an incident in which one of her friends she had gone to a dance with got kidnapped into marriage by a ruffian from a far off village and is still her husband to date.

Wilberforce Ambani, a Kitale-based boda boda rider narrates how those dances used to happen in his Kiminini village on the outskirts of the town. He says, electricity to the locale was still a pipe-dream and tin lamps used to suffice as disco lights to the make shift club.

“Once in a while fights would erupt, with the lamps getting knocked over. All of a sudden the place would be in complete darkness, leading to pandemonium. At times it was crooks who put off the tin lambs, just to get a chance to disturb peace and grope or forcefully fondle women who had turned them down or refused to dance with them,” says Ambani.

According to a section of such yesteryears merrymakers, at times you were lucky to go to those parties and return home in one piece for fights between rival villages were so commonplace. Andrew Kemboi, an engineer in Nairobi talks of a case in which a man almost set a makeshift disco full on revelers on fire after goons threatened to snatch from him a girl he had courted that night.

“When he saw his catch for the night being sweet-talked to dump him, the young man melted into darkness, only to return minutes later, wielding a flaming firebrand and a poisoned spear threatening to kill his rival with his friends and torch the premise. Everybody scattered, you would have thought a grenade had been hurled in there,” says Kemboi.