Gregory Maqoma

By Gregory Maqoma I write this not as a commentator, but as a carrier of memory — a body shaped by dance, history, and the unrelenting echoes of a land that refuses to forget. South Africa is sick. Not just in its hospitals or brittle systems, but in its soul. And when a nation forgets how to remember, it forgets how to live. Art is the last line of defence when everything else collapses — when systems fail, when leadership lies, when the body politic rots from within. Art remembers. Art...

By Gregory Maqoma Dance, for me, has been a journey of unconventional rhythms, a symphony of movements that transcends not only the physical realm but also the cultural and societal norms that sought to confine it. As a Black South African, raised in the vibrant township of Soweto, my life's dance began as a silent protest against expectations rooted in a middle-class family with Christian values, where education was considered the sacred bridge to a promised land, a metaphorical Nirvana....