Larakaraka dance soothes the Acholi
Gunfire crackled over downtown Gulu district as army generals held a tense meeting on the dainty lawn of Acholi Inn. Some 24 hours earlier, 40 boys and a bishop had been abducted in Kitgum district and now another night was approaching this northern Uganda town.
Gunfire crackled over downtown Gulu district as army generals held a tense meeting on the dainty lawn of Acholi Inn. Some 24 hours earlier, 40 boys and a bishop had been abducted in Kitgum district and now another night was approaching this northern Uganda town.
But the party planners did not stop.
They went on unwinding wires, fixing fans and gauging their gadgets around the paved courtyard. Tonight, they had good plans for this part of the Inn. Acholi women had been invited to the May 19, dance.
One-by-one, they sauntered in starting around 6:00pm, some with babies tightly strapped on their backs. They quickly found their place somewhere near the blazing security bulbs, segregated from men.
The World Food Programme (WFP) had earlier in the day, held workshops with all Internally Displaced People’s (IDP) camp leaders in Gulu, more than half of whom are women. To crown it all, there was to be music, beers and a dinner for all participants.
The music started and, as it filtered through, the number of guests grew including LC officials, male camp leaders, the RDC Max Omeda and his deputy and the WFP crew.
It took time to get the women moving. They knew what they were waiting for and when it came, Acholi Inn caught fire! They call it the Larakaraka, a local dance which sparked off the frenzy.
The women put their babies on the concrete and took to the dance floor. Some wore well-tailored busuuti, others came in long patterned dresses.
Some had their headscarves on, the same ones they wore earlier in the day. But it didn’t matter what one was wearing, you just had to know how to execute the Acholi tango.
The Larakaraka dance, is traditionally meant for courtship, usually danced during the dry season. It’s a thing for younger people, but tonight the women made it their own. Many lives have been lost in the dreadful LRA conflict, but this did not stop them from dancing. Earlier in the day, they had issues with WFP. Still, they danced.
A number after another the men also joined. WFP’s crew joined in, but it is hard to do it the way of the natives. “Do this,†one woman prompted, “Place one foot forward and then dance.â€
So I placed the foot, skipped, hopped and jumped, careful to keep with the pace of their song. Somehow, I still couldn’t move it their way.
The women softly thrust their chests forward, pushed their backs inward, then took short fast steps and let the beat move their feet.
Occasionally, they let out shrieks that pierced through the humid night, their way of marking the climax of the beautiful dance. “World Food Day!†one woman chanted every time she recognised someone from WFP.
Their charm was priceless, their smiles from deep inside their heart.
Before we departed, we asked them to sing. “Peace is good. Development is good,†they sang in Luo. Slowly the tempo started rising again.
The song gravitated into another round of the dance. Edward Kallon, WFP’s deputy country director, who had been watching from the shadows, this time shot up and ran to the dance floor.
The women were ecstatic!
Two of them came dancing right up to his thigh. As he chuckled shyly, they pulled back and went on to work on the other men around.
The party had now formed a ring and everyone was lost in the rhythm of the night.
They screamed some more and, again, that the woman returned chanting “World Food Day!â€
The fire soon died down, and it was time for the lambs to depart. The last time I checked, they were boarding onto a pick-up truck.
Slowly, the driver veered out of the Acholi Inn area, venturing into the daunting dark and heading for another uncertain night into the IDP camps.
Acholi women must have approached home with their usual fears, but at least, they knew that when it was time to dance, they danced.
But the party planners did not stop.
They went on unwinding wires, fixing fans and gauging their gadgets around the paved courtyard. Tonight, they had good plans for this part of the Inn. Acholi women had been invited to the May 19, dance.
One-by-one, they sauntered in starting around 6:00pm, some with babies tightly strapped on their backs. They quickly found their place somewhere near the blazing security bulbs, segregated from men.
The World Food Programme (WFP) had earlier in the day, held workshops with all Internally Displaced People’s (IDP) camp leaders in Gulu, more than half of whom are women. To crown it all, there was to be music, beers and a dinner for all participants.
The music started and, as it filtered through, the number of guests grew including LC officials, male camp leaders, the RDC Max Omeda and his deputy and the WFP crew.
It took time to get the women moving. They knew what they were waiting for and when it came, Acholi Inn caught fire! They call it the Larakaraka, a local dance which sparked off the frenzy.
The women put their babies on the concrete and took to the dance floor. Some wore well-tailored busuuti, others came in long patterned dresses.
Some had their headscarves on, the same ones they wore earlier in the day. But it didn’t matter what one was wearing, you just had to know how to execute the Acholi tango.
The Larakaraka dance, is traditionally meant for courtship, usually danced during the dry season. It’s a thing for younger people, but tonight the women made it their own. Many lives have been lost in the dreadful LRA conflict, but this did not stop them from dancing. Earlier in the day, they had issues with WFP. Still, they danced.
A number after another the men also joined. WFP’s crew joined in, but it is hard to do it the way of the natives. “Do this,†one woman prompted, “Place one foot forward and then dance.â€
So I placed the foot, skipped, hopped and jumped, careful to keep with the pace of their song. Somehow, I still couldn’t move it their way.
The women softly thrust their chests forward, pushed their backs inward, then took short fast steps and let the beat move their feet.
Occasionally, they let out shrieks that pierced through the humid night, their way of marking the climax of the beautiful dance. “World Food Day!†one woman chanted every time she recognised someone from WFP.
Their charm was priceless, their smiles from deep inside their heart.
Before we departed, we asked them to sing. “Peace is good. Development is good,†they sang in Luo. Slowly the tempo started rising again.
The song gravitated into another round of the dance. Edward Kallon, WFP’s deputy country director, who had been watching from the shadows, this time shot up and ran to the dance floor.
The women were ecstatic!
Two of them came dancing right up to his thigh. As he chuckled shyly, they pulled back and went on to work on the other men around.
The party had now formed a ring and everyone was lost in the rhythm of the night.
They screamed some more and, again, that the woman returned chanting “World Food Day!â€
The fire soon died down, and it was time for the lambs to depart. The last time I checked, they were boarding onto a pick-up truck.
Slowly, the driver veered out of the Acholi Inn area, venturing into the daunting dark and heading for another uncertain night into the IDP camps.
Acholi women must have approached home with their usual fears, but at least, they knew that when it was time to dance, they danced.