The Healing Dance

The drumming of feet, clapping of hands and click-like singsongs are a monotonous yet ancestral sound and ancient rhythm which forces all of the loose hairs on the back of my neck to prick up.
In these sacred dances it is customary for the women to sit around the fire, to sing and clap their hands as the men amongst the group dance around them. The men wear rattles, which are cleverly crafted from dried seed pods around their legs and traditional blankets; the women too wear the blanket and an over the shoulder cloak as most are carry their young.
The Bushmen tribe, who are also referred to as the San People, Khoisan or the children of nature, are scientifically proven to be the oldest ethnic group in Africa and in the world. They complete their uniform look with an array of digging sticks, arrows and spears made from bone. The tribe use those items for foraging edible fruits, berries and foods as well as medicinal goods. For me, they are a glimpse into how these real life Hunter-Gatherers adapted to the Kalahari Desert many thousands of years ago.
As the dancing ritual drives on into the night, the women’s calling sound increases in speed and intensifies which is meant to indicate that the men are being sent into a trance. This is a part of the “healing” or “medicine” dance routine. I follow the flow of the heavy, beating music and my eyes wander up into the night sky along with the thick, black plumes of fire smoke.
I too enter into a trance of some kind, as my wandering gaze coasts through the brisk, wintery atmosphere, past the Southern Cross and the famous Milky Way. It is a postcard picture and by far the most breath-taking, beautiful spectacle I had ever seen.
Usually, traditional Bushmen dances can last the length of up to a full day but this ceremony has been condensed and reworked into an hour long piece.
A hand reaches out to mine and pulls me out of my seat. I am instructed to join in with the final part of the dance- it’s the part where everybody, including me dances together. Before I had the chance to take another sip of my drink, the seated Bushmen women had resumed their clapping and singing and my feet began swinging away to the sequence of the highly contagious beat; my face beamed with joy as I mastered the footwork and it’s then that I understood: the spirit of Africa is very much alive.