11 minute read
Isaac Gasangwa’s Journey to Reflecting “The African Dream” on Stage
by Misha Maseka
The African Dream is the culmination of almost two decades of dedicated passion and evolution of technique and style for Rwandan-born dancer and choreographer, Isaac Gasangwa. For one night only on September 16, 2023, Afrobeats Van, founded by Gasangwa, will perform The African Dream, a 75-minute dance show exploring the global influence the African diaspora has had on culture, inspecting aspects of Black identity and celebrating the vibrancy and validity of African history presented at The Dance Centre in Vancouver, BC. At the height of rehearsals for his biggest and most personal show yet, Isaac sat down with me to touch on the influence of growing up in post-genocide Rwanda, navigating the cultural transition when moving to Canada and the importance of reflecting and presenting more stories told by Africans for Africans and the world.
Misha Maseka (MM): Was the context and concept of being a professional dancer something you thought about growing up in Rwanda?
Isaac Gasangwa (IG): I grew up actually playing soccer – that’s what everybody in Africa in the 90’s was doing. It was the “man thing” to do – playing sports or football and I liked to do tricks a lot [while playing football]. And then there was the internet era, where we used to go to an internet cafe and pay money to spend time on the internet. I remember I used to go there to watch people play football like Ronaldino [and] Ronaldo. You know how back then a YouTube video would finish and another would start immediately? There was this dancer from France. He [was] a popping locking dancer called Salah. His video just popped up [when] I was about to leave. I remember watching it and was like “Wow, I wanna do this! I like what I’m seeing”. And then I got curious because even the way I played soccer was entertaining. It’s not like I wanted to win. I wanted to make people happy. Dance was that escape for me to go and be as creative as I could and as entertaining as I could.
However, back home [in Rwanda], dance is not something that people do to entertain. It’s not like an art form. It’s just like something you do. When you’re happy, you dance. When your sister gets married, everybody dances. When somebody dies, we do some ritual dancing. So dance wasn’t introduced to me as something that you could do to change people’s lives and entertain. Because the internet [was] showing me another side of dance that was intriguing and [something] I wanted to try and wanted to [do], I felt more connected to dance then I was to football. I watched more videos of dancing than I watched of football. So at 17, I was like “This is definitely what I want to do with my life!”.
I remember telling my mom that and she looked at me as if I was crazy. She was like “What do you mean you want to dance? You dance everyday.” and I was like “No, mom. You don’t understand. I want to be a professional dancer.” She laughed at me.
And I feed [off of] proving people wrong. That’s one of things that pushes me to work harder. My mom laughing at me was basically the catalyst of me wanting to prove that I could do [it].
But then, growing up in Rwanda with the genocide, the country was destroyed. I wasn’t going to dance like everybody else. It was very difficult to do that. There were no dance studios. So I had to create opportunities for myself. I used dance to educate people, to bring kids from the street into the studio and educate them about life.
MM: I grew up on the continent [of Africa] as well and what I remember of African styles of dance is them simply occurring and being taught through culture and happenstance as opposed to European techniques being taught in a class setting. What was your journey in honing your technique and skills?
IG: I was young but very mature in the way I looked at things. I built a dance school at 17 years old to help kids on the street.
MM: Yeah, that is crazy!
IG: I realized that for you to be a really good dancer, you have to treat it like a job. You gotta be able to train everyday at the highest level. You gotta be an athlete. The way I trained for soccer was how I trained to be a good dancer. That’s basically the mind set I went into dance thinking. I remember training my group [in Rwanda] and telling them they had to practice at least three times a week. They were like, “What are we training for? There’s no competition? Why are we dancing this much?”. I remember coming up with ideas to film videos. It was the era of YouTube and that was the motivation to get them to train. Looking at them, I wanted them to be able to compete at a [global] level. I was very competitive and I believed in myself, sometimes a little bit too much and I thought I could change the world with just dance!
MM: That’s amazing. What is one thing you would tell your 17-year-old self that you know now about starting a dance school?
IG: Nothing, really. For me it was all about bringing in people and sharing the love of dance. When I started, the classes were free. I was offering my talents for free. Before I knew it, I got sponsorships from Australia because we were posting our dance videos on YouTube. I joked around with my mom saying I was “making more money than the president of Rwanda! You see, I told you I could make something out of dance!”.
There were no challenges, just gains. Until today, those kids would reach out to me, saying “You changed my life in a way you don’t even know”.
And that was the idea – not to make the money but to change people’s lives.
In 2014, Isaac made the move to Vancouver, BC having his sights set south to live and work in Los Angeles.
IG: LA is every dancer’s dream. When I got here [in 2014] I was surprised to find that Vancouver, in a way, is similar to Rwanda. There’s not a lot going on. It’s not like Toronto. It’s not like LA [where] everything is established. If you want an afrobeats class, there’s 20 in [LA]. If you google afrobeat class in Toronto, there’s 30 that come up. But, if you google afrobeat class in Vancouver, there’s zero. So that’s like Rwanda. So if you want to start something, [Vancouver] is a great place to start. And I liked that. I could be the first to do this in this sector. This is actually an opportunity.
MM: Was finding a community in Canada an easy transition?
IG: I got here [to Vancouver] and was so excited and applied to all the studios saying “Hey, I am a dancer and choreographer straight from Africa! Please hire me!”. Nope. No answer. Not even like a “no, thank you.” Complete silence. Crickets.
So I went to the studios and took class like every other student. You know, I’m gonna make connections! I’m gonna meet people! I’m gonna talk to the studio owners and introduce myself. Before you know it, I’ll have a pop-up. Before you know it, I’ll have a class!
I went in and they only taught hip hop. So I took hip hop and tried different classes. Then I started to hate dance because how I danced in Africa was different then how they danced here. It felt like I was in college or at work where everything [had] a strict rule to follow. Everyone comes in and they are not friendly. I was like “What am I doing here?”. I would go partying with [some of my class colleagues] and music would come on and they wouldn’t know how to move because they only moved to choreography. There was no freedom of expression. There was no improvisation. This was where I wanted to be free to express myself. I started to think that even teaching at a studio, I wasn’t going to enjoy [it]. So I started my own company to bring joy and that African vibe back into dance.
MM: Now you have a show coming in September called The African Dream. What is the African Dream?
IG: The idea was brought about by [juxtaposing] and observing the “American Dream”. What is the American Dream? I am a white person. I go to school. I have my degree. When I finish, I know for sure I’m gonna get a job that I am qualified for, buy a good house and live a successful life. When you are a Black person, you go to the same college, graduate with even higher [marks] but you most likely get a job that you are overqualified for, that doesn’t pay you enough to buy a good house and live a successful life. Success is not guaranteed, no matter how much work you put in. So, the “African Dream” becomes the idea that the dream is to survive. It draws the parallel between the way an African person sees and understands compared to a Westerner’s [understanding].
I remember sleeping in my room in Rwanda and dreaming that I would be on the biggest stage in the world. I’ve been working towards this [show] my whole life!
The show is not just for me. When working on this, I always think about another young man or woman in Africa who is dreaming that anything is possible. I know there is not a lot of focussed Black talent in the sector and I remember watching all those videos [on YouTube] and the only people I could see were white people dancing. Which was so hard to relate to. But if a young person growing up in Africa who wants to be an artist could see a guy named Isaac in Canada, having a full on show, it will motivate them. It will tell them that everything is possible. When they go to their mother and say “I wanna be a dancer” and she laughs at them, they have somebody to show “No, look at this guy! If he can do it. I can do it too!”.
MM: What do you want audiences to take away from the show?
IG: Dance in Africa is Igitaramo which means basically, “the night assembly”. A king or the leader of a village would invite friends and family and singers and dancers and share food. That’s what dance was for us and that’s what I want to show [in The African Dream]. It’s educational. It’s emotional. There’s drama. There’s history. There’s culture. There’s singing and dancing and poetry. There’s a lot happening. It can facilitate all types of people – kids who want to watch [the dancers] moving around, adults who are interested in the history and the politics around this stuff, dancers who want to explore a different style. And no matter what your dreams are, don’t stop chasing them!
Isaac’s grounded joy was apparent as we spoke about his journey with dance, what he has going on and the hope and trajectory for the future. Be sure to check out The African Dream, September 16th at The Dance Centre.
Contributing Writer
Misha Maseka is an award-winning eSwatiniborn, Zambian filmmaker, writer and founder of the production company, Village Girls residing in Mohkinstsis, Treaty 7 Territory (Calgary, AB). When not creating film works or writing, she makes time to perform as Lemba, her music alter ego, and features as a singer for productions and concerts with Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra, Contemporary Calgary, and Theatre Calgary. She also enjoys interviewing peer artists about the creativity and process on her podcast, And I Wonder.
Interview Feature
Isaac "Izo Dreamchaser" Gasangwa is a Rwandan-born dancer, choreographer and educator based in Vancouver, BC. He succeeded in starting the first dance studio in Rwanda, Jabbajunior foundation, and is the Founder of Afrobeats dance Van.As one of the pioneers of Afrobeats dance in Vancouver, Isaac continues to teach weekly drop-ins, and several Afro events including: Black Vancouver Artistry Night and Afrobeats Dance Night.
