Our first stop in Uganda was in a small rural village in the middle of nowhere called Nchenyi Village. "Hospitality" is almost always the nickname given to rural villages in Africa but this one held a unique experience in store for me. We stayed in an old farmstead on a hill overlooking fertile green pastures, banana plantations and a landscape dominated by typical Umbrella Thorn Acacias. 
That night, under equatorial constellations this lone "Muzungu" (White Man), joined a tribe of pastoralists and a tribe of agriculturalists around a blazing campfire to not simply watch them partake in their traditional cultural dances but to participate. As the drums punctuated the nocturnal sounds with the characteristic beat of the royal Jembe, silhouettes against the fire stirred up the dust as bare-feet imitated the beats on the ground. Beads of sweat formed on naked torsos as the dance evolved. As I observed a hand appeared out of the shadows and pulled me by my arm into the mass of bodies performing ritual movements as if by instinct. My body lacked the instinct but my heart and mind were willing and as awkward as this pale body must have appeared, I was accepted if only for one evening, if only for a brief dance with "strangers" as one of Nchenyi Village. In the words of Thabo Mbeki, "None dare challenge me when I say, I am an African..."
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