When the First Drumbeat Hit
I wasn't ready. Honestly, nobody in that auditorium was.
Afriky Lolo took the stage at UMSL, and within seconds, the air itself seemed to vibrate. The drummers didn't ease into their rhythm—they attacked it. Each beat landed like a heartbeat you didn't know you were missing. And then the dancers emerged, all flashing smiles and flying feet, and suddenly I understood why people talk about dance as a language.
You didn't need to know the history. You didn't need a program. You just... felt it.
More Than a Show
Here's what surprised me: between songs, the performers actually talked to us. Not lectured—talked. They explained that this particular dance celebrated harvest, or that rhythm honored ancestors. One dancer demonstrated how a simple shoulder movement told an entire story about community gathering.
I've been to plenty of performances where the "educational" part feels like homework. This wasn't that. The teaching felt woven into the celebration itself—like learning about a culture by being invited to its party rather than reading about it in a textbook.
The Moment I Won't Forget
About halfway through, something shifted in the crowd. People stopped being polite audience members. Shoulders started swaying. A few brave souls in the back row began clapping off-beat (bless them for trying). The energy had transformed from "watching a performance" to "participating in something larger."
That's the gift Afriky Lolo brings. West African dance traditions don't separate performer from observer the way Western stages often do. The drummers drum for you. The dancers move with you, even if you're sitting still. By the finale, when they invited audience members to join them on stage, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—not awkward or forced, just... right.
Why This Matters
St. Louis has no shortage of entertainment options. But how often do you get to experience something genuinely transportive? Something that pulls you out of your routine and drops you into a completely different way of seeing and hearing?
Afriky Lolo's performance reminded me why live art matters. Not because it's "culturally important" or "educationally valuable"—though it is both. But because for 90 minutes, I stopped thinking about my inbox, my commute, my to-do list. I was just there, present in a room full of strangers, all of us caught up in rhythms older than any of us.
Catch Them If You Can
If Afriky Lolo returns to UMSL or performs anywhere near you, go. Bring friends who think they "don't like dance." Bring kids who need to see what passion looks like. Bring yourself, tired and skeptical, on a weeknight.
You'll leave lighter than you arrived.
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DanceWami covers dance performances, education, and community events across the region.
