Dallas — Only someone in a very dark mood could resist the exuberance emanating Friday night from DanceAfrica, the annual homage Dallas Black Dance Theatre pays to its African roots.
Part ritual, part lovefest, this annual program brings us a different side of the company. Given the chance, its finely honed dancers let loose into something spontaneous and freewheeling, inspired by stirring drums and the call of the earth itself.
Recruited to add more weight to the program were DBDT II, guest artists Bandan Koro African Dance and Drum Ensemble from Dallas, Atlanta-based Giwayen Mata, and the Griot, Chuck Davis.
Without Chuck Davis—founder and artistic director of DanceAfrica America and the African American Dance Ensemble—it would be hard to imagine how the program would fare. He opens the show with a bang, galvanizing the audience by chanting "Ago! Ago! Ago!" and receiving the response, "Ase! Ase! Ase!" Between his imposing six-foot-six frame, booming voice and long flowing robe, he is a force to be reckoned with, and in no time has everyone under his spell.
Soon, he is asking everyone in the audience age 55 or older to stand so that they can be honored for their wisdom and for paving the way for the next generation.
That theme of honor and respect plays out for much of the first part of the program. Forget Not the Seed opens on an ominous red-lit background where smoke billows upward. Barely visible in the gloom, a priest (Mel A. Tomlinson) stands on a podium and recites passages from the Bible along the lines of "Dust thou art and unto dust thou remains." In white, puffy pants, Richard A. Freeman, Jr. skirts the stage, opens arms to the audience and then pitches low in arabesque. From that four other vignettes—Ritual/Tribute, Tribute to the Ancestors, Tribute to Our Dance/Africa Elders/Libation Pouring, and Tribute to the Bantaba follow.
The mix of Christian and ancient African rituals, dancers, speakers and percussion covers a lot of ground, with the tone changing from grave to joyful. In Tribute to the Ancestors, about 20 men and women make a stately procession from the aisles to the stage, there to be greeted and named by Davis. In traditional white garb, they represent the elders, holding themselves with a regal and yet modest bearing. They are there to bear witness to those who have passed on, and as the names of those gone are spoken, one dancer after another slowly lifts a candle and then disappears.
Following that the elders gently greet the younger generation, who bend low with heads down and hands behind their backs. The elders gently lift the faces of the youths, who then slowly depart.
There are yet other rituals, until the past recedes and gives way to the present. It is time now to delight only in dance and music, pumping up the energy to high-decimal levels.
The drummers command the stage on their own with the thunderous sound of jembe, dunun and sekera, their faces beaming with delight. But the dancers, too, have their day, energized by the drums, exploding with a barrage of high-to-the-rafters split-leg jumps, barrel rolls, pumping arms and stamping feet.
You too can believe in that "Peace, Love, and Respect for Everyone" if you will recite "ASE! ASE! ASE!" at the top of your lungs.
◊ Margaret Putnam has been writing about dance since 1980, with works published by D Magazine, The Dallas Observer, The Dallas Times Herald, The Dallas Morning News, The New York Times, Playbill, Stagebill, Pointe Magazine and Dance Magazine. 
