“Kulomzuzu, kulomhlaba, icacile—sine nevs.”
Translation: In these times, in this world, it’s clear—we are anxious. And yes, in the context of South African epistemological thought, you can dance it away.
Translation: In these times, in this world, it’s clear—we are anxious. And yes, in context of South African epistemological modalities, you can dance it away.
At St Mary’s Diocesan School for Girls in Pretoria, South Africa, from 2011 - 2014, students in the boarding house laughed about being “forever alone.” I would know, I was one of them.
Many students were from neighboring African countries, and even the local students experienced the same feeling — loneliness. We told the “forever alone” joke whenever we longed to be outside instead of being sequestered away from greater society, relying on our phones to connect to the world beyond the gates. We were girls, curious, far from home, and undergoing physical and emotional changes we weren’t always prepared for — “inevs.”
Less than a decade later, former U.S. Surgeon General Dr Vivek Murthy sounded the alarm about an epidemic underpinning the COVID-19 pandemic — loneliness; and unlike the pithy quips my friends and I made in high school, this kind of loneliness is no joking matter.
Dr Vivek Murthy
The overarching meaning of this Xhosa statement is that we are living in times of great distress. Dr. Murthy posited that this epidemic is dangerous to society for its mental and physical health implications.
In June 2026, U.S. Senator Chris Murphy (D-Conn) said in a statement, “Americans are feeling more disconnected than ever, and it’s a full-blown crisis for our democracy when people retreat to their devices and lose sight of what it means to be part of a community.” This statement announced the National Strategy for Social Connection Act, a piece of legislation focused on addressing the loneliness epidemic at the federal government level.
Loneliness is evidence of an “innate desire to connect,” so intentionality about coming together has to be a group effort, according to Dr. Murthy.
The psychology of loneliness
“Loneliness is considered to be an epidemic around the world, and it's a major public health issue, so loneliness is just one of the ways that our relationships can go wrong,” said Professor Leigh Ann Vaughn of Ithaca College in an interview.
“We can have conflicts with people who we normally would get along with. We can feel disregarded by somebody who just kind of looks like they didn't even see us as they were walking past us,” Dr. Vaughn explained.
“Impaired cognitive function, depression, anxiety, and increased risk of suicide, to cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and infectious diseases,” are a just a few consequences of the loneliness epidemic to consider before laughing at the next “lonely” joke.
Vaughn posited that “Everybody has a need to feel like they're connected and close to people who matter to them. People think better, they feel better, their health is better when they feel like they have a good sense of connection to somebody in whatever situation they're in, and this is so important that many psychology theories about well-being and longevity have found that this is true. In fact, your personal relationships being good is one of the top predictors of living a long time.”
In other words, as written by Dr. Murthy, “We are, simply, better together.”
Philosophy of music and healing
Centuries ago, in the classical era of Athens, Plato argued that music was a powerful force in a person’s life. Mary B. Schoen-Nazzaro explains the philosopher’s thoughts on music in “Plato and Aristotle on the Ends of Music.”
“It penetrates deeply and directly, pushing its way into the soul of the listener, moving his emotions and giving them its shape. The music departs, but it leaves its mark on the listener,” she wrote.
More recently, a study by the National Endowment for the Arts found that someone who attends live performances is “more likely to participate in organizations or clubs than those who did not attend arts events.” Music and dance experiences feature in such live performances. Compared to non-arts experience participants, “Arts attendees were twice as likely to attend four or more meetings a year.”
Rosie Perkins and Adele Mason-Bertrand’s 2020 study in the United Kingdom studied the effects of art engagement on a person’s perception of connectedness. They, too, found that live music performances were leading activities where more than 80% of participants felt the most connected to others.
From ancient Greece to present day U.S. and UK philosophers and researchers, the arts can be entertaining, but they’re even more healing.
Still, loneliness persists around the world. As the popularity and internationality of South African music introduces the world to its soundscapes and movements, it may be helpful to look at South African dance floors for solutions to the loneliness epidemic.
The best dancefloors go “until until…”
Festivals, concerts, day parties, and churches are universal gathering places. Among South African youth, joy could be found at the now-shuttered event, “Sunday Roast,” affectionately considered “The Happiest Place On Earth” — Disney be damned.
“We've always tried our best to enjoy the party in the same way that the community-consumer does. If we can do that, we're having a great time,” said Thandile Mafanya, CEO of Until Until Group. What started as a birthday celebration for a friend became a multi-million Rand event property, “Sunday Roast.”
Until Until event at The Royale © Misa Narrates
On the last Sunday of every month, guests would compete for tickets in an online raffle, break bread and dance the day away. South African groovers did this faithfully for seven years before the event came to its end as Until Until Group pivoted to other projects.
However, one thing stayed the same throughout its lifetime — communal arts engagement.
“So a lot of times we'd walk out of Sunday Roast and be like, Yoh! That was a jol that felt…I felt the happiest I felt in a while,” Mafanya recalled. This sentiment was further reinforced by the growth of the event, the excitement ahead of events, and the echoed chants of partygoers exclaiming “Yoh!”
(left to right) Cuck Tailored, SLOW POISON, & Thandile Mafanya © Misa Narrates
Photo courtesy of Desire Marea
Understanding “ingoma”
Collins Dictionary describes “choric” as being “of, like, for, or in the manner of a chorus, esp of singing, dancing, or the speaking of verse.” Music and dance have always been central to the South African identity — to the soul.
Traditional healer and multidisciplinary artist Desire Marea describes “song” as central to one’s consciousness, thus integral to a collective people.
“Ingoma is powerful,” they said in an interview. “Ingoma is the vibration that creates, you know, and I think it is very important…it’s an important part of being umunt'omnyama, not just the spiritual healers — us as people.”
Simply put, ingoma is the essence, the lifeblood, of South African spirituality and consciousness. [ingoma: “song” | umunt’omnyama: a Black person]
The work of spiritual healing and choric arts are intertwined in many ways. “The drum beating at a very specific time signature, at a very specific tempo,” is fundamental to [amagqirha] work.
Similar, if not the same, drum patterns are present in genres such as gqom and amapiano, two of South Africa’s most lucrative cultural exports. While someone can dance alone, the lifeblood of South Africa is to come together in pursuit of better days—the pursuit of happiness. According to Marea , “The genres do the very same thing on the dance floor.”
Among traditional healers and, by extension, South Africans, songs connect people to themselves, their past, and their communities. “I remember our gobela telling us that certain songs that we’d sing as sangomas, [like one about] losing the war, hundreds of years ago. It was a song that was designed to travel and take that message to people, to send out.” [gobela: teacher/initiator/traditional healer]
Xhosa traditional healers/doctors, known as amagqirha, insist that “Drumming is a vital aspect of the amagqirha ceremonial rites and rituals,” Marea explained. “The drum patterns and performance thereof are intended to link people to their ancestral histories. Drumming is the essence of their ceremonies.”
Dancing for freedom, dancing for unity
South Western Township, better known as Soweto, is not only rich in South African history; international performers such as Hinade and Black know it as home.
Beyond dancing, both men are budding yet formidable choreographers. Their dance and choreography skills have led them to work alongside internationally beloved amapiano acts like Uncle Waffles, Scotts Maphuma, TOSS, and more.
Hinade describes dance as a liberatory practice in response to South Africa’s sociopolitical hardships. Freedom from colonial and Apartheid-era domination, perpetrated by the Dutch (Boers) and British, only came in 1994 for South Africans.
Of the sociopolitical hardships facing South Africa, Hinade explained in an interview at Kreative Kornerr’s Rap Academy. “Crying in that space, you feel like you’re jailed down.” Whereas through dance, he has realized his joy. “I’ve had a lot of freedom, honestly. It gives a lot of freedom. Freedom in happiness. You’re getting so much freedom in doing what you actually want. I’m doing this for me, for the people, and it’s the right thing. It feels right.”
Some of the people Hinade spoke about are the children he and Black visit on elementary school campuses and their dance class attendees. A motivating factor for these classes is to give back to the people who look up to them.
Black explained, “Sometimes we’re doing this thing for people. If I were to stay locked inside my room, no one’s gonna see me. Everything I touch turns into something. When me and Neo choreograph something, [sometimes] it’s just five minutes.” Giving back to their communities and collaborating through movement has brought them immense joy over the past few years.
Black believes that through dance, he can make people happy. When other people look up to him and his co-creator, he considers the importance of doing his job well in an effort to invite and encourage others to explore dance as well.
Of the power of dance, Black concurs that “unyakazis’igazi” — it pumps the blood.
Censorship, coded language, & surviving Apartheid
Where Hinade and Black were born after South Africa’s freedom was achieved, Arthur “Deejay Lovey” Mahlangu is one of the many South Africans who lived in exile.
Mahlangu was active in the apartheid protests of the 1980s. “At one point I was detained and what we did every day, in the morning, [was to] sing freedom songs,” he said in an interview. Because the detainees were being guarded by Black prison officers, they were able to get away with this.
“At least what we could be able to do was sing and to express our pain, and also to rejoice at the same time,” he said .
During Apartheid, the government sought to suppress any inkling of resistance through censorship. In the 1950s, the apartheid government was more lax about music expressing dissent compared to its 1980s response. “As oppression increased in the 1980s, politically subversive meanings were hidden in songs,” Mahlangu said. “Later, apartheid premises were undermined through musical fusion and song texts presented more militant challenges to the state.”
People found to spread anti-apartheid rhetoric or communicate about banned subjects were severely punished—especially in the 1980s. Solitary confinement was a common practice during these times. “You’re lucky to be alive because some of our comrades were killed,” he recounted from that era.
In the 1980s, the African National Congress (ANC) and Nelson Mandela, among other freedom fighters, were banned or incarcerated. Mahlangu remembers songs such as Sello “Chicco” Twala’s “We Miss You Manelow.” Twala, instead of saying Mandela, referred to South Africa’s future president as Manelow.
“Of course, [Twala] was able to pull it [off] because most of those kinds of songs, when the white regime was able to listen to the music, they wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know who Manelow was.”
South Africans have always found solace in music and dance, be it for joyous occasions or in protest. Noteworthy South African artists who have taken the essence of South African music and dance to the world include Miriam Makeba, Brenda Fassie, Tyla, DJ Maphorisa and Kabza De Small, to name a few.
In recent years, phrases such as “Piano to the world” have become emblematic of how amapiano acts are spreading the quintessentially South African rhythms and movements far and wide.
Leaning into South African epistemologies
Psychology, a modern Western science, offers valuable frameworks to comprehend the gravity of the loneliness epidemic. At the same time, African epistemologies offer equally applicable insights and methodologies for redress.
The essence of ubuntu emphasizes togetherness, compassion and communal wellness — “I am, because you are.” This value system is antithetical to the isolationism enshrined in loneliness.
South Africans have a centuries-long history of turning to music and dance, choric arts, in times of both strife and celebration. Suffering is soothed by sound and movement, art is a tool to dismantle tyranny, and more specifically, music and dance can be an invitation to connect.
Another African idiom, “Izandla ziyahlambana,” further supports the idea that social connectedness demands societal participation; that the individual and society must work together to end this epidemic. [translation: hands wash each other]
As the world revels in the complexities and joy of South African music and dance, people are called to participate in African soundscapes and movements with each other.
Each song is composed by different notes blended together; each dance is choreographed with different movements performed in quick succession.
No note nor step exists alone — and on the dance floor, neither will you.
