The author's mother loved to dance everywhere, especially at events held in the 'wedding hall'. She closely watched the long tables where dinner was served and was annoyed by people slowly eating chicken feet and bone marrow.
She often hurried slow diners, saying, 'Come on, finish up, the DJ is waiting.' As soon as the sound test began, she would head to the makeshift dance floor. The author recalls that in the past, she could dance on the speakers at Palladium.
The author enjoyed going through his mother's wardrobe: lace dresses, fur shawls, long coats, silk stockings, and strapped leather shoes. His father might take her to evening dinners at the Sol Namara club in Chatsworth, but the author does not remember them visiting dance venues in the hot areas of Durban. This might have been due to their lack of a car or his father's constant engagement between office work and endless social activities.
One day, driving down Alice Street towards Old Fort Road, the author pointed out a magnificent building that once served as Saira Essa's Upstairs Theatre. This woman was a diva during the author's high school years. The author stole a poster advertising her speech and drama classes from the library and pasted it on his bedroom wall using rice.
When the author started telling his mother about his admiration for Essa, she interrupted him to talk about ballroom dancing. She stated, 'You know, Runga Naidu is my cousin.' Then, in quiet Telugu, she showed the author black-and-white photographs from the family album. One of them depicted her cousin in a tuxedo, tightly holding Violet L'Etang while they danced the waltz and won first prize at the Durban Ballroom and Latin Dance Championship in 1959.
Musician Melvin Peters told them a couple of weeks ago at Goodwill Manor that there was a vibrant social and cultural scene of ballroom and jazz dancing among the Indians of Durban from the 1940s to the 1970s. In those politically oppressive times, the dance floor offered a space for relaxation, romance, and a short break from apartheid restrictions, including the Group Areas Act, when 'mixed' gatherings risked police scrutiny.
The cosmopolitan urban culture of the 'City' was dominated by Grey Street, which became famous through the works of Phyllis Naidu, Aziz Hussain, and Ronnie Govender. This scene featured foxtrot, tango, samba, rumba, quickstep, jive, and rock to live music—often with influences from Indian film music, according to Professor Chats Devrop's research.
Hamish Kidd, shortly before his death, praised this era, saying, 'We were Mandjaros.' He displayed his two-toned Crockett & Jones shoes, which he wore in Kilimanjaro at the Himalaya hotel. He explained that elegant social dancing was a true fashion that swept through generations.
Popular dance academies included Runga Naidu Dance Academy, Shan Pillai Dance School, and Francis Shradack School. Groups such as Dukes Combo, Flames, Blue Ricks, Rockets, Crescendos, Sam's Latin Kings, Hot Shots, Raiders, Kreme, and Magnets gained real fame.
'Here, we could dance,' recalled Kidd, who later succeeded as a writer, actor, and theatrical personality. Archival newspaper articles mention Lionel Peters, Henry Paul, Morris Joseph, Seekolas, Brian Pillai, Ricky, and Danny Pillai, as well as Dee Sharma. Performances were regularly sold out, and crowds lined up outside, hoping to bribe a porter or guard to get inside.
By the mid-eighties, daytime shows became popular in places like Butterworth Hotel, where one could sweat on the dance floor and ascend to the balcony suites. Brothers Bugwandeen and Mr. Ramol hosted their parties at Moon Hotel in Clairwood, which ignored racial segregation of audience or performers.
The author's memory is hazy, but he could see graceful Abigail Kubheku or boisterous Tandi Klaasen performing there. Art connoisseur Rayson Naidu, in his book The Indian in Drum, collected many iconic images of the Goodwill Lounge and its legendary owners, Pampi and Nammi Naidu, who were rarely seen without tuxedos.
American clarinetist Tony Scott performed there. Sunny Pillai, who surpassed Frank Sinatra in the 1950s and 1960s, told the author that Pampi Naidu gave him his first big chance after seeing him collecting the cash at City Hall with African jazz and variety acts.
'Just come and play, man,' the impresario urged before Pillai left into exile with his wife Miriam Macbe. The ballroom at Chatsworth Hotel continued the tradition of live music until the 1970s, and journalist and walking encyclopedia Yogin Devan masterfully documented the charm of its heyday.
Although the legends of the past may have faded into the pages of history and the depths of memory, there is still hope. A quiet revival is gaining momentum. Melvin Peters actively promotes jazz, especially among the younger generation. Dance schools are opening in community halls, churches, and classrooms, where people like Rene and Budji Naidu, as well as Elvis Punia, are liven up the dance floor. Nava Naidu is very popular for his soulful view on the beauty and healing power of dance.
The Glenwood community holds a popular 'come and dance' every first Sunday of the month at 6:00 PM at Fancy Museum on Esther Roberts Road. It is nothing fancy—just good food and lots of freestyle. Meanwhile, the annual Hotspice Ball, organized by the Chatsworth Regional Charity, rivals the luxury and live music of the Met Gala in New York.
'When shall we go dancing?' might have been my mother's first phrase when I called her. I am almost certain that she is now playing music by Saint Peter and the Rockers.
