/ 16 March 2009

Real boys do ballet

It’s Tuesday afternoon in Alexandra and Jonathan Rakgatlha (17) is on his way to class. DJ Cleo’s latest anthem, Es’khaleni, blasts from a passing taxi and a group of kids respond with the latest kwaito dance moves.

Jonathan enters the Alex San Kopano Community Centre, which is buzzing with activity. Somewhere a scratchy cassette plays music from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite.

He pulls up a chair and puts on his ballet shoes.

He’s one of six boys there for today’s lesson, which is part of a free township outreach programme run by the South African Ballet Theatre. Jonathan has been coming for eight years, since the programme began.

He remembers what happened when school friends found out about his extramural activity. “They were saying I mustn’t do ballet. Why do I do ballet? Ballet is for girls. They asked: why don’t I be a soccer player?”

Jonathan says in the early days he often had to “dodge ballet” because of the hurtful things people said, until eventually deciding to do what was “right for me”.

He told his parents what he was doing only when he was ready to invite them to a performance. Even then, his father wasn’t too happy.

Asked about his plans, Jonathan isn’t sure. Maybe he’ll pursue ballet or become an accountant.

David Malete has no problem with son Ayanda’s ballet dancing. “Township life is rough,” says Malete, “boys hanging out at corners smoking, doing all that terrible stuff. So it’s better if he’s here; he’s safe from the dangerous environment.”

After his volleyball lessons were cancelled, Ayanda (13) decided to come to ballet instead. He says he was inspired when he saw his little sister performing.

The class is about to begin. The voice of ballet teacher Victor Mohapi echoes through the mirrorless and barless dance studio. The children giggle at all his jokes and keenly follow his instructions: “We’re going to stretch and flex our feet, OK?”

Mohapi teaches 50 children a week – most of them girls. His classes are popular, but he worries about the attitude of some local people who discourage boys.

“They stop them and say, no, that one is for girls, why are you there? There’s one boy I lost, a very talented one,” he recalls. Word has it that he is now doing “funny things” around the township.

Mohapi admits that, for many Alex people, ballet still belongs to the elite. “It’s something they never grew up with,” he says. “And they also don’t get to see it much.”

The class lasts an hour and it’s quite a work-out. At the end, the kids sit on the floor, toes pointing. Mohapi moves around, encouraging them and correcting their posture. Asked how ballet makes them feel, the boys say “happy, comfortable, free”.

Ricki Baphela (16) offers more.

Ballet, he believes, will take him places just as long as he works as hard as Victor. “Ha ke bina ke ikutlwa ke le matla,” he says in Sesotho. “When I dance I feel powerful.”

If you’d like to donate ballet shoes and dance gear to the SABT dance programme, contact Zai Miller, 011 877 9882 zai@saballettheatre.co.za