Dancers with a sexy allure

By Crazy Correspondent

Why the six Congolese musicians on stage are wearing sunglasses at midnight in a dimly lit club is a philosophical question the frenzied crowd is least bothered about.

For now, their thoughts and energies are firmly focused on the raspy voice of a bubbly vocalist repeatedly chanting, "Ndombolo, ndombolo-ah ndombolo-oh!" accompanied by squealing guitars and throbbing drums.

With each chant, he seems to galvanise his counterparts into making elaborate hips-centred dance moves. To say their routine is sexually suggestive is to understate its raunchiness.

Bent wings

They rotate their waists clockwise in slow motion, make sudden back and forth thrusts of the groin and, with satisfied smirks on their faces, pretend to cover their crotches with their hands. They then spread their arms like slightly bent wings, swing their hands to grab imaginary fistfuls of air, bend their knees for a bow-legged appearance and move to the beat.

Enthusiastic female fans join visiting Congolese musician Ferre Gola and his band during a performance early this month. Photos: Boniface Okendo /Standard

While some revellers make belaboured comical movements to keep up with the dance moves, others, mostly women, saunter to the stage to shove currency notes into the trouser bands of the all-male troupe. The naughtier fans opt to enjoy a few minutes of fame by giving the bandleader a tick-tight hug and whisper something in his ears before being pulled away by beefy bouncers. This Ndombolo ya Solo dance style surely has an intoxicating effect. Or is it the flexible dancers?

But there is another category of fans that just stands on the dance floor, as if in a trance, intensely watching proceedings. Some occasionally point at a particular dancer on stage and make interesting comments.

"Ona vile yule anatingiza kiuno. Inaonekana anajua kazi!" one matronly woman tells her svelte counterpart. (Look at how that one is wriggling his waist. It seems he is good in bed).

Well, move over all you men who admire female dancers. Women are also on the lookout. And they may be looking beyond performance on the stage!

When the band takes a break, the excitement is no less and they are received with endless ‘congratulatory’ hugs. One musician, a lanky fellow whose hair is dyed in all hues of a colour chart, is particularly popular with the women.

The excitement may have been heightened by the fact that this was a visiting Congolese band, led by the sensational young and handsome musician, Ferre Gola. Their two shows in Nairobi early this month provided dramatic moments witnessed by Crazy Monday. In such circumstances, it is whispered, one-night stands are not uncommon.

But with Kenya playing host to numerous ‘resident’ Congolese bands since the 1970s, such scenes have been repeated many times, cementing the stereotype that Kenyan women like Congolese musicians. Or to be more specific, older Kenyan women like young Congolese musicians.

Extra coin

While some are said to be wealthy divorcees, widows and single mothers, others are rumoured to leave their husbands for the musicians.

Lured by the artiste’s bleached skins, sense of fashion and, inevitably, the promise in the sexually suggestive dance moves, these are said to be a scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours relationships.

Since music performances do not pay much for the musicians, many of whom have fled their war-torn country in search of better prospects, they are always on the lookout for the extra coin. Add this to the clichÈd image of the Congolese as hedonists and you have a jigsaw with a small missing part. This is filled by the women — call them sugar mummies or what you will — who provide life’s luxuries in exchange for having their sexual needs fulfilled.

These women are said to be adept at guarding their territories. They are a permanent feature in clubs where their men perform, perhaps to keep them on a tight leash. It is not unheard of for rival women to fight over a musician.

A member of Rhumba Japan, a popular Kenyan-based Congolese band, describes the older women’s devotion thus: "Banakuja kila siku ni kama banalipwa. Lakini banajua ile kitu banatakang’a." (They attend shows every day as though they are paid to do so. But they know what they are after.)

Maureen, 50, a secretary in Nairobi, says her love for Congolese musicians started when she watched a Kanda Bongoman performance in the early 1990s. Known as King of Kwasa Kwasa (a dance style), Kanda was a big hit among Kenyan women. It is said that in an effort to force a gap in their front teeth like Kanda’s, to symbolise their admiration, some fans would regularly insert a toothpick in their teeth. They only realised the folly of their unnatural efforts when discoloration set in.

"Congolese men know how to make a woman feel special and their sense of fashion is superb. Ever wondered why seven out of 10 Lingala songs are about women and bolingo (love)? Most importantly, their bedroom skills are unique," says Monica, a woman in her 40s. Nonetheless, it is never all bliss. Some of the wealthier older women are said to be bed-hoppers of the serial kind who use and dump the musicians. Others kick the musicians out when reality hits them that their high expectations cannot be met.

Expensive clothes

And some, it is said, are out to ensure their ‘investment’ on the virile artistes is well spent. The story is told of Jean, a musician who shared a house in Umoja Estate, Nairobi, with five colleagues. One dawn two years ago he returned to the house elated after a performance at a nearby club. The reason for his joy was that he had attracted the affection of a wealthy woman in her 40s.

Jean was all lovey-dovey in the days that followed. Soon he was wearing expensive clothes, jewellery and shoes. Mama Mobokoli (foster mother) as he referred to his lover, would occasionally drop him in Umoja from leafy Lavington Estate in her SUV.

Within a few weeks Jean had moved in with Mama Mobokoli. But he soon realised he was virtually a prisoner and his role was to fulfil Mama Mobokoli’s sexual needs. The woman would leave the vast mansion in the morning to attend to her businesses, locking up Jean after ensuring all he needed was provided. She would then return at lunchtime for Jean to provide more services.

In the evening after dinner, a well-fed Jean knew what was expected of him. This full time duty meant he had to abandon his music career.

A few weeks later, Jean had had enough. One day, when they went to a club in the city centre, he excused himself to go to the gents and vanished — never to return. But a Congolese musician says although it is true that some of his countrymen are forced to get into these relationships, it is wrong to crucify an entire nation.