Because We Were Born to Dance…

Africa, Girl stories

One of my favorite early childhood memory was my dad trying out new music collections. And when he found a favorite he will nod his head in pleasure, flick his cigarette and do a dance. I always watched attentively. He will point out the highs and lows of each instrument and ask which piece I loved and why. We always agreed on the same selections and when we didn’t, compared favorites as we danced. My mom never joined us in this exercise. In fact, she always argued that it was a waste of time and effort. She said my dad was plain right crazy to assume that we understood his musical madness. If only she knew. She pointed out that his dance was rhythmless. She was right about the dance though. My dad had only one dance-step irrespective of the genre of music. And I was highly impressionable, I learned everything, including the dance. Continue reading

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