The ballroom dance wizard bows out
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- Category: Theatre
- Published on Monday, 06 February 2012 14:55
- Written by Moses Serugo
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At 88, Christopher Kato was still able to out-dance his partners. Those who attended his free classes at Lotus Mexicana every Thursday and Saturday attest to his stamina on the dance floor. Twice weekly at the Nakasero restaurant/ arts space, the now departed octogenarian introduced dance enthusiasts, most of them youngsters to his dance repertoire of ballroom dances. Latin American dances were his forte and his legion of Lotus Mexicana fans came to be schooled in salsa, the samba, tango, cha-cha-cha and all those formulaic dances Elly Wamala (RIP) sang about in his hit Ebinyumo Ebyaffe.
And yet as Mzee Kato sat out what would be his last class on Thursday February 2, 2012 some of his students had cause to worry. “It was not like him to sit through a class. Mzee Kato would kill us with his dancing, going for two hours,” says Lotus Mexicana employee Cissy Nakaburywa. He would later confess to one of his students, a doctor that he was “tired” and wanted to go “mu kyalo” (the village). Two days later, the dance wizard as he was known was reported dead.
If the grim reaper was up to his sarcasm by way of the Luganda saying that loosely translates; even the best dancer has to leave the dance floor, Kato’s students were not going to let him have the last laugh. They gathered at Lotus Mexicana on Saturday evening and as some wiped away tears, signed a condolence book and contributed to funeral expenses, the consensus was that Kato’s spirit had to live on. And so the salsa music was played and the sombre mood quickly turned into the scheduled dance performance its should have been.
“Everything about him was inspirational,” says Yamit Wood, the proprietor of Lotus Mexicana, “Despite being 88, he was young at heart maybe because he was surrounded by young people. I am thankful for the four years he spent with us.”
Mzee Kato’s life rule seemed to have been that one had to keep dancing to be healthy. But he was very easily the poster boy for a cardiovascular lifestyle. He always rode his cherished “manyi ga kifuba” bicycle (something to do with accentuating one’s chest muscles) to town. And when he “walked to work”, it was not to make a political statement. Rather it was about optimal use of what the human body was intended to do; move. His selflessness always radiated through his sunny persona that was marked by a seemingly permanent boyish grin. His classes were free of charge unlike most of the dance tutelage elsewhere that goes for at least UGX10, 000 ($5) an hour. Kato offered his freebie sessions for two hours. “He was always here on time and would only take a breather to have just one coke. Every time we offered him something to eat he would flatly refuse,” Ms. Wood explains.
Perhaps after dancing for 73 years, Mzee Kato felt the twilight of his dance years should be dedicated to acts of benevolence. He is said to have picked interest in ballroom dancing at the tender age of 15 from the British colonialists. That was in 1939, the formative dance years that would see the whiz kid become the wizard. He was no escapist because he strongly believed in the therapeutic benefits of dance. “He always believed that whoever came to his class troubled would leave their troubles on the dance floor and go back home a happy person,” says Ms. Wood. “He tapped into the notion that dance has a mind-body connection and also offers a great way to connect with people,” she adds. “I know of people that got hitched from the classes he offered elsewhere before coming to Lotus Mexicana. Some of them followed him here and even brought their children to his classes.”
Kato can claim the bragging rights to fuelling the salsa craze that is all the rage in Kampala today. A monthly Latin Flava showcase happens every last Wednesday of the month at the National Theatre on top of the other weekly events available to salsa-philes and everyone that now rings out words like merengue, cha cha, salsa, bachata, tango as part of their regular vocabulary. Kato did not have to name-drop. He was fluent in all these genres and even dared the youngsters at contemporary dance forms like hip-hop while also keeping true to indigenous styles.
“He was no agent of cultural imperialism. I want to imagine he acknowledged the global and multi-cultural reach of dance even as he represented Uganda at international dance meets in Cuba and Japan,” says Ms. Wood.
The tragic thing about his passing is that it has happened a couple of months to Uganda’s grand celebration of her Independence Golden Jubilee. Not that he would have cared much about getting a senior citizen medal for say outstanding contribution to contemporary culture. After all medals seem to be the preserve of the so-called “political elite”. The profound way in which an 88-year-old connected with 25-year-olds is a far more befitting acknowledgement of Kato’s talent. Could it have had anything to do with the fact that he only became a father at 66? It is another plus to his legacy that some of the “junior” Katos (he is survived by seven children and 10 grandchildren) are carrying dad’s ballroom dance torch. That, and the vow by his students to keep dancing is perhaps the biggest endorsement this octogenarian for whom life was one long salsa party.
MOSES SERUGO ( This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. ).
PHOTOS: Lotus Mexicana Facebook Page.