From Semba to Kizomba - Disclamer

When I first started learning Kizomba in France back in 2008, I was just like any other new dancer—super excited! I was totally into the dance, the music (which, funny enough, turned out not to be Kizomba but Ghetto Zouk), and all I wanted to do was to learn more and more steps. At that time, I didn't have a clue about the history, origins, or the awesome Angolan culture tied to Kizomba. My early approach, while not entirely off base (since it got me to where I am today), was pretty far from what I know today, believe, and love.

 

As I grew, first as a dancer and later as a teacher, I always felt like something was missing. Even as I got better at dancing, learning more techniques, and becoming a more polished performer, there was still this sense of emptiness that I couldn't shake. I may not be Angolan or African, but I felt this need to give back all the amazing things I'd received over the years in the most genuine and humble way possible.

 

Along the way, I had the incredible luck of meeting some wonderful Angolan folks who didn't just share information with me—they opened up about their roots, their beliefs, their way of life. There's this ongoing debate between "Traditionalist" and Urban Kiz dancers, and I'm not here to pick sides. Everyone finds their own vibe and what feels true to them. But with this story, I wanted to show why Angolans are so attached to and protective of their dance and culture.

 

Because after centuries of slavery, colonialism, and almost 30 years of wars, Angolan traditions and culture have become like a lifeline—a symbol of identity, freedom, and hope. You can't separate history from music; they're tightly interwoven, shaping the soul of Angola.

 

I invite you to come along on this journey, to explore, to try to grasp, and maybe even fall in love, just like I did, with the breathtaking Angolan and broader African culture.

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David Campos