Gregory Maqoma: ‘The dance bug never left me’

In 1990, I was in grade 11. My relationship with my father was still fraught. As the oldest son, I was to carry the family name forward with dignity. Men were supposed to be doctors, lawyers, schoolteachers — or soccer stars. 

My love of the arts was a huge embarrassment to my father. But it was in my father’s Sowetan newspaper that I saw the advertisement calling for young people to be trained in dance. I knew it was for me. I took Vincent [Mantsoe] along and encouraged him to audition too.

Moving into Dance was a non-racial dance training company started by cultural activist Sylvia Glasser in the late 1970s, at the height of apartheid. Sylvia says she remembers me as an intelligent, bright young man. She’s kind enough to say that my beauty, poise and confidence distinguished me from the rest of the group.

Vincent and I were both accepted by Moving into Dance and offered a one-year scholarship; I joined as a part-time student.

My ever-supportive mother understood what this opportunity meant to me. We made a pact to keep it a secret from my father — but it didn’t take long for him to find out, when a picture of me dancing appeared in the newspaper. Much to my surprise, he wasn’t angry. He opened his arms and gave me a warm embrace. Seeing my success, with my name in the pages of his beloved Sowetan, no less, had helped him to accept my choice of life direction.

When I completed my matric in 1991, my parents had no money to send me to university. I wanted to study medicine, but there were few to no scholarships for black youngsters. 

I applied to study Moving into Dance’s Community Teachers Training Course, which would enable me to teach dance in schools across Soweto. Sylvia Glasser taught us how to “edu-dance” — teaching township children the alphabet through dance during outreach sessions. 

I enjoyed working with young people and seeing my work blossom through them. I may not have become a medical doctor as my parents wished, but in this way, I touched many lives.

I got my first taste of international travel with Moving into Dance. In 1992, apartheid was dying and South Africa was transitioning into a democratic state. To save face, the National Party was pretending to the world that it was embracing democracy and non-racialism. They funded the racially diverse cast of Moving into Dance to take part in the World Expo in Sevilla, Spain.

I remember my first time out of the country as an out-of-body experience. I was only 19 years old, and this was the biggest arts gathering I’d ever seen. The venue was palatial and packed with art displays from across the globe. […] I remember seeing the Statue of Liberty display, part of the US’s expo, and dreamed of visiting one day. I knew right then that I wanted to travel the world.

However, dancing and teaching weren’t paying enough for me to make a living, and I was still dependent on my parents. And then suddenly that relationship was reversed. When my mother lost her job and my father was retrenched, I had to take care of them. So I left dancing in 1994 to work in [insurance]. I was placed with an Afrikaans company, where the language barrier was a huge challenge for me; I stood little chance of succeeding. … I found the idea of sitting behind a desk all day deeply uninspiring. The job was killing me.

More importantly, the dancing bug never left me alone. I kept on dancing on weekends. Vincent, however, was far more advanced. […] His work was gaining international acclaim and winning awards. In 1996, Vincent’s piece won first prize at Dance Encounters of Contemporary African Dance, the first African dance competition supported by the French government. The prize included an eight-country African tour package.

Vincent knew my frustration at work, and he knew my love for dance went beyond a monthly cheque. I was hugely moved when he invited me to join him on tour — and on the road back to professional dance. In many ways, he rescued me.

I promptly left my job. My passion for dance was re-invigorated. I knew then that there was nothing else I wanted to do in life except dance; it was and is my calling.

This is an edited extract from My Life, My Dance, My Soul: The Story of Gregory Maqoma, written by Gregory Maqoma with Lorato Trok and published by Jacana Media.

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