Two young people beat drums passionately while another beats a calabash with the bicycle spokes as the stage for the larakaraka dance is set.
It’s fast-approaching 6pm here in the middle of nowhere in northern Uganda’s Lamwo District, and the late afternoon heat can still be felt. But some youth dare to catch a bit of the action near the trading centre in Padibe
It is a typical market day, but the larakaraka dance is what the youth are looking forward to enjoying.
After all, it is the Acholi courtship dance.
The larakaraka dance, a vibrant courtship ritual central to the Acholi people of northern Uganda, is still popular today as it was in the past.
Performed primarily during the dry season after the harvest, it serves as a competitive and romantic arena where music, attire, and physical skill converge to help young men and women find life partners.
Patrick Odoch, 64, was a senior larakaraka dancer and trainer. He went for his first dance at the age of 12, but was humiliated when the group leader rubbished his skill at playing the calabash.
The melody from the big drum, accompanied by two small drums and the clash of bicycle spokes on several calabashes, harmonised by fiddle, was so captivating that Odoch, then a beginner, played out of tune.
“I thought I would get a partner during the dance, but my hopes were dashed when our group leader said my calabash was out of tune. That was an insult, and it hurt my feelings. Our group had many girls, and I was out to impress them that day,” he says.
Rather than give up, that remark pushed Odoch to rehearse more.
‘It took me two weeks to perfect my skill and to master how to sing while beating the calabash at the same time,” he says, adding that visual presentation is critical to success in the larakaraka arena.
After two weeks and some days, he joined another group, which was set to perform at Pawidi market, Agoro Sub-county in Kitgum. Odoch thought it was indeed the day he would hook up with a girl. Little did he know that he was yet to suffer another public humiliation!
This time round, it was his rough voice that let him down. When he entered the dance arena, the girls fled. None of them wanted to dance with him. Dressed in shorts and a white vest, Odoch was the youngest boy in the group, but croaked out of tune when he attempted to sing.
His dancing gear, like that of his colleagues, comprised an odye (piece of metal or cardboard) tied around the waist to cover the buttocks and a headgear made of ostrich feathers.
Meanwhile, the women wore short skirts that covered their hips and a piece of cloth or a bra to cover their breasts. Young girls who haven’t developed breasts dance bare-chested.
“When we walked away from the dancing arena to give room to another group to take the stage, I looked at my calabash. It was in pieces. That is when it occurred to me that I had been applying too much force on the calabash to make it loud,” the Primary Four dropout says.
From then on, Odoch became a regular larakaraka dancer all over the village. During the dry season, the youth would converge in a particular area for the dance. Depending on the availability of food and drinks, these dances could go on for more than a week. They started in the late evening and went on deep into the night.
By the time Odoch was 15, he already had a wife. He met her during the first successful dance at Kitgum Matidi. This particular dance had attracted 13 groups from different villages. Given his recently acquired expertise and charm, winning her over was a cup of tea.
With more training and practice, Odoch developed his voice into an irresistible baritone that would turn heads and hearts on the dance floor. With that, he had made an unforgettable mark in his newfound profession.
Today, the peasant farmer boasts of three wives and over 40 children.
In 1998, he joined the then National Resistance Army (NRA) and was nicknamed Abayo Mac because of his bravery.
“I used to train youth in Kitgum and Gulu how to dance larakaraka. I always tell them that to be a good dancer, you need to have all the customs, a good voice, be flexible, and be skilled at beating the calabash to attract girls,” he says.
Call it old-fashioned, but several men in Acholi still use larakaraka to court women during the dry season. It is a dance for youth who are looking for partners.
Dancers often trek long distances just to be part of the crowd. The larakaraka dance has been part of Acholi culture since time immemorial.
Alfred Nyeko, a farmer in Diino, Odek Sub-county in Omoro District, recalls that their descendants used to dance when they were processing game meat with smoke.
For a complete orchestra, all you need are a big drum, two small drums, calabashes, bicycle spokes, and a fiddle.
Formation
When men go and put on shorts and vests, they decorate their heads with feathers and tie a set of clothes on their hips. Some men also put on beads around their necks.
Meanwhile, women put on short skirts that cover the hips. They wear short blouses to cover their chest and breasts. On top of the short skirts, they wear beads, which are said to make them more attractive to men.
“When a man touches these beads during the dance and does not react, then he is not healthy”, Joyce Aber, a seasoned larakaraka dancer, says.
‘When the dancers are ready to perform, they make more lines. Men form a line on one side and face the women on the other side. Two men then pick up their drums and dance to the stage. A man who has a good voice starts the entry song, which is followed by the sound of drums. Another person beats a calabash with the bicycle spokes. Then the group leader, who is a woman, blows a whistle, bringing everybody on stage, and the dance begins,’ Aber explains.
Making choice
Dancers can either move slowly towards the stage or run there. This depends on how the dancers were trained. When the show is underway, men beat their calabashes while ladies dance in the middle of the stage.’
A girl dances as she scrutinises different faces for a man of her choice before picking him.
‘Performers do not care whether onlookers understand their song or not, so long as it attracts the object of their attention. After picking a man, the woman pushes him outside the dancing circle where each one of them tries to show his or her dancing technique,’ says Aber.
‘A few minutes later, the man shakes her hand before flooding her with romantic words. When the girl removes her beads or handkerchief and gives it to the man, it means that she has accepted him to be her lover.’
The devastations of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) conflict also took their toll on the larakaraka dance. With over 90% of the entire population at the time living in internally displaced people’s (IDP) camps, survival was what mattered most to them and the courtship dance.