Konto, Nigeria's First Urban Street Dance

Introduction:

Dancing is the most popular form of recreation on the streets of Nigeria. In towns, people of all ages gather informally in clubs and social events to dance to the music of popular musicians, drawing from a variety of dances to the delight of everyone. Over the years, Nigerian street dancing has evolved into a subculture alongside an increased appreciation for our cultural identity and heritage. Our dances are not only the expression of our nationality, but they have become a global sensation and unifier, defying ethnicity, tribalism, race and other social constructs. (“Thanks” to the influence of social media.) And whether it is our traditional (sacred) dances reserved for religious rituals or the neo-traditional dances tinted with traces of urbanization or the more contemporary dances of today, Nigerian dances are nothing short of unique, spirited and indicative of the very life of Nigerians.

But what is the dance of the common man? What causes the hearts of ghetto youths to soar in ecstatic jubilation and creativity? What unleashes the morale of the streets and stirs the feet of Nigerians into a fiercely working machine? What marks the rhythms in our hearts and the songs on our lips? If you have ever seen or danced any of Galala, Suo and Alanta or grooved to the music of Daddy Showkey, Baba Frayo, African China or any of Nigeria’s ghetto dance music, you have experienced Konto in its many expressive forms.

This article is a step towards sharing more of Nigeria’s oldest street dance culture with you – the Konto culture.

Back in the Day:

The word “Konto” has no specific meaning in Nigerian languages and was not coined by any particular individual. “Konto”, what people call “Naija Craze” today, is a dance culture famed for its intricate footwork and characterization and dates back to the late ‘80s to early ‘90s on the streets of Ajegunle.

Ajegunle is a ghetto suburb in the heart of Lagos, famous for its multi-ethnic population of mostly lower-class citizens, whose youths find expression in the performing arts. The Ajegunle community, also known as AJ City is home to many of Nigeria’s street dances, curated by the Jamaican dancehall music of the time. As was the ghetto culture at the time, youths would gather on the streets of Ajegunle to cheer themselves on in dancing, which in most cases culminated in “battles”. The basic concept of these battles, which was also the basic concept of Konto, was to out-dance other dancers with crazy footwork (legwork), comic pantomimes and mimicry. It was common at such times to hear dancers use slangs like, “Oya, Konto for me (show me your craziest dance moves)!” “Dem dey Konto for here oh! (Dancers are performing here, oh!)”. Dancers would cheer and tease in sheer joy, challenging themselves to dance and displaying a joy that would permeate every street in the coming years.

Konto was more than just a dance style, it was a street culture that birthed styles like Galala (Daddy Showkey), Suo (Marvelous Benji) and a host of other Nigerian street dance styles at the turn of the 21st century. But, unlike other popular street styles that were propagated by the music of famous ghetto musicians, Konto was not mainstream until 2005 when it gained popularity through Junglist Boys’ song “Konto Dance” from their “Boys Dey Binu” album. Before then, Konto had thrived alongside the community’s Rastafarian subculture and was done to Ragga (Reggae), a Jamaican dancehall music. Dancehall was the main music for Konto dance because popular Nigerian musicians, at the time, were famed for traditional music (Highlife, Fuji, Juju and Afrobeat) and played nothing for the hyperactive ghetto kid who wanted something upbeat and untamed. Junglist Boys, Oritse Femi and Chibudo, were some of many musicians who propagated a genre of music called “Ghetto Dance Music” or simply “Ghetto Music”, the Nigerian version of Reggae.

Music was a strong inspiration for Konto and dancing was people’s response to good music. The sale of music cassettes and compact discs became a thriving business on the streets of AJ City. A popular DJ (Mr Kay), feeding off the ghetto’s culture of music (dancehall and rap) and dance (Konto) began playing dancehall and other contemporary music in front of his cassettes store to drive sales. As time went on, what was supposedly a business move made by Mr Kay became pivotal in the propagation of Konto. Dancers from various street groups would gather around Mr Kay’s store on Rasheed Street to dance and compete among themselves. This, they did for the love of music, dance and a sense of community and celebration, all of which was even greater during festive seasons.

In December of every year, dancers in Ajegunle commemorated the end of the year and prospects of an incoming year with street parties. “Street Jam”, as the ensuing street parties were called, featured showcases by DJs, performances by upcoming musicians and dancing by everyone. It also saw dancers competing to be the best dancer of the evening and for a monetary reward donated by Mr Kay.

As part of the battles, competing dancers had to, in the heat of the moment, come up with crazy movement concepts to out-perform other dancers. For instance, dancers danced with imaginary objects: someone combing his hair, a lady making up with a mirror in hand; and performed animalistic and comical movements: a baboon, a dog with a broken hind limb, a lizard climbing a wall, a mad man, an imbecile or a clone with very distorted facial expressions. The battles were an extreme show of crazy concepts, intricate footwork and astronomical energy level. But like any show of untamed passion with no construct for sustainability, Konto was only a “vibe”; uncodified, undocumented and fading.

The Konto of Today:

The Rastafarian culture had a strong grip on the youths of Ajegunle: dancing, dreadlocks, baggy and torn clothes accessorized with chains, bandanas and boots, guitar hanging on a shoulder and blazing marijuana or a bottle of alcohol in hand were the stereotypes. And as this undercurrent of reckless living brewed, it brought with it a surge in street crimes and vices. Some dancers, under the guise of dancing, began extorting unsuspecting onlookers, robbing them of valuables and even sexually assaulting others. Dancers were being arrested and convicted and while some served jail terms, others either found new passions or left the hood for good.

The Konto culture and street battling had gone southward; the assumption that street dancers were rascals and untamed criminals was gaining traction. Something needed to be done to curb this narrative and to show that, as with humans in all walks of life, the crimes of a few miscreants should not define the character of the whole. Konto was losing its popularity as the stereotypes took hold but its flames, only now a spark in the hearts of very courteous dancers, never died. While it dwindled in Ajegunle where it began, the flames of Konto were rekindled in other places around Lagos (Orile, in the days of African China, and Okoko-2 around the same time). And although its popularity was waning, Konto continued in Ajegunle, albeit without the fanfare of the years before. It should be noted that the popularity, decadence and reemergence of Konto were not distinct historical events without overlaps, but as in every complex human society, Konto gained popularity alongside other happenings. It is, therefore, erroneous to think that Konto went extinct and was later revived by a set of dancers.

Over the years, as with dance and music in Nigeria, Konto has gone through times of decadence and reemergence and depends on people's constant engagement to keep it alive. But how can our dances be formalized, codified and preserved to be passed on to generations? As the years go by and the Nigerian dance scene has enjoyed mainstream exposure and visibility, efforts are being made by indigenous dancers all over the world towards preserving our dance cultures: Westsyde lifestyle, Surpy (Surprise Jakande), Sly Obinna, Oworo Connect and a host of other musicians, dancers and video vixens are some of the artists contributing to these efforts.

Surprise Jakande (aka Surpy) is only one of many dancers renowned for Konto today. Surprise, who grew up in Ajegunle during the time of Konto street dancing, is the Naija-Urban instructor at the Society for the Performing Arts in Nigeria (SPAN) and has done so much to define Konto as a genre that can be codified, choreographed and taught in studios. As Surpy said, “Konto has come to stay”. So, the question is: Are you part of the Konto culture? Will you pass on the scorching torch of Konto?

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Konto is about taking life situations and expressing them in movements. Surpy Jakande gives us a deeper look at Konto and the inspirations that create movements.

Additional References

The influence of Jamaican Dancehall on Konto captured:

Junglist Boys Konto Dance anthem (blurry, but you can see the original moves which have resurface today)

Surpy's Interview on Trybedance.