Why Dancers in East Africa Struggle — And the Soul Train from an Event Organizer’s Perspective
Why Dancers in East Africa Struggle — And the Soul Train from an Event Organizer’s Perspective
For the last 11 years, I have been organizing dance events in East Africa—from tiny local jams with nothing but a speaker and a carpet, to national festivals with lights, cameras, TV, engineers, budgets, contracts, and brand expectations. And if there is one truth I’ve learned, it is this:
Dance in East Africa is one of the most thrilling, tiring, heartbreaking, humbling, and rewarding journeys anyone can take—especially if you are an organizer.
In our scene, the organizer is the first to arrive and the last to leave, the one who carries the pressure of the entire community, and unfortunately, often the one who receives all the leftovers—and all the shit.
You get blamed for the weather. For the sound system. For the judges. For the poster design. For the running order. For the prize money. For the DJ. For the timing. For the venue. And sometimes… for just breathing.
Everyone expects you to have all the answers. Most times, you have none—you just have courage.
And yet, here we are. Still organizing. Still believing. Still building.
Why Do Dancers Struggle? Why Do Organizers Struggle?
Because most organizers in East Africa come from the dance community itself. We were (and still are) dancers—active breakers, battlers, freestylers, creatives—who suddenly take up the responsibility to build platforms for the very culture that shaped us.
We start organizing without resources.We start with hope.We start with a dream that maybe this jam, this festival, this battle will change someone’s life.
And in many cases, it does.
But the hardest part?Only a few people truly understand how the business of event production works.
The local scene often compares itself to commercial mainstream events—concerts, brand launches, big-stage productions—but these are completely different traditions with different KPIs, different audiences, different revenue models, and different cultural value.
A community jam and a corporate-sponsored arena concert are not the same animal.
Yet dancers expect commercial-level benefits from community-funded, passion-driven events.And organizers expect community-level patience from dancers who are hungry, ambitious, and struggling in economies where creativity is not yet a priority.
The mismatch creates tension.A crossroads between organizers and dancers that never seems to go away.
My First Jam vs. My First Commercial Event
In 2012, when I organized my first local jam, all I needed was:
A carpet
A speaker
And faith that people would show up
And they did.
Two years later, I was part of a team organizing a commercial event—with full production:lights, sound engineers, rehearsals, media, contracts, adverts, and funding. It was beautiful. It was overwhelming. It was glamorous.
But even then, even with the money and the fame, there was one harsh truth:
The dancer and the organizer were still at the bottom of the chain—yet we were the main characters of the story.
Or… are we?
Understanding the Roles: Organizer vs. Dancer
If we strip away the illusions:
The Organizer
Holds the entire container
Turns concept → plan → budget → execution
Carries the risks
Mediates conflicts
Faces criticism
Protects the culture
Makes sure something actually happens
The Dancer
Is the heart of the event
Brings the energy
Carries the culture
Performs, battles, inspires
Shows the world why this art matters
We need each other.But too often, we misunderstand each other.
Organizers expect dancers to understand the financial constraints.Dancers expect organizers to deliver miracles.
Both are fighting in the same war—just on different fronts.
The Emotional Journey of Organizing
Organizing Skillz, for example, has:
taught me
un-taught me
included me
excluded me
introduced me to rooms I never imagined
kicked me out of others
made, mended, and broke friendships
tested my spirit
humbled my ego
strengthened my purpose
Why?Because I believe in giving people a second chance at life through dance.Because Hip Hop raised me and I want to share those jewels.Because this culture is bigger than me.
This journey is not for the weak—it is for the bold, for those willing to look in the mirror and ask real questions about life and purpose.
Why Do We Always Feel Stuck as a Region?
Is it that:
we don’t understand our roles?
we don’t understand the business?
the governments don’t understand the industry?
the industry doesn’t understand its own economy?
or are we just addicted to the thrill?
Why is it that events abroad have been running for 30+ years with stability, flights, hotels, quality production, and clear systems—while we’re still sharing guest houses and debating whether the cash prize will be paid?
The answer lies in context:
1. We live in low-income countries.
This affects:
budgets
sponsorships
government priorities
creative industry frameworks
audience spending power
You can’t build a global-standard ecosystem on survival-mode economics.
2. The creative industry is still “secondary.”
Most East African countries prioritize:
health
education
infrastructure
security
Art is still seen as a luxury—not a driver of national growth.Yet ironically, the numbers for the creative economy look exciting on paper.The potential is massive.But potential and reality are not the same.
Are we there yet? Or are we still milking a rock?
Maybe a bit of both.
The Soul Train We Are On
Despite the challenges:
dancers keep dancing
organizers keep organizing
communities keep showing up
new festivals emerge
the culture keeps evolving
Strangers become friends.Friends become family.And every year brings its own triumph.
Maybe the struggle isn’t a sign of failure.Maybe it is the sign that we are still building something that has never existed at this scale before in East Africa.
Maybe this is the soul train—messy, loud, chaotic, emotional, beautiful, and full of life.
And maybe… just maybe…we are the generation that will lay the foundation so that the next one doesn’t have to struggle like we did.
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