In 1991, freshly back from overseas, I went to my first big ANC provincial conference. It was the good days before corruption and backstabbing. Delegates were bristling with the excitement of imminent change. Alan Boesak, the Western Cape leader at the time, swept everyone up with his charismatic, preacher-like speeches.

At every possible opportunity, delegates would jump up and sing as well as dance with great enthusiasm. By that stage, I knew most of the struggle songs, but I discovered what I now know to be true… “Most whities can’t dance”.

It’s not that I can’t dance – ballet almost became my career – but I can’t DANCE!

No matter how hard I tried to imitate the movements my African colleagues did with such effortless grace, I still felt (and looked) stiff and stupid. As one of only a handful of white delegates, I knew I stood out like a sore thumb- and the sympathetic smiles I got confirmed it.

Fast forward almost 30 years and we are caught up in the era of the Jerusalema. I say era because of course this adaptation of a well-known church hymn song by Master KG has truly become a global phenomenon. It has been downloaded more than 146 million times. The beat, the lyrics,and of course the dance challenge have gripped people around the world and gave them something positive to do in these difficult times.

On YouTube you can find people doing the challenge in Romania, Venezuela, all over Africa, Australia, Asia and of course in… Jerusalem. There is a even a Latin and beach version, a group of Austrian women who look like they belong in the Sound of Music and – believe it or not - a group of nuns doing it… (no hip wiggling there though).

Having watched a number of videos that were sent to me, I decided it was time. I could no longer postpone the inevitable. I had to learn the dance! I could of course have asked some of my friends to teach me, but that immediately activated my whities-can’t-dance memories of years ago. So I resorted to the internet.

I googled: “Teach yourself the Jerusalema”.

Hundreds of videos popped up. I thought it best to go for “The basic steps of the Jerusalema”. It featured Karen, an Australian woman in Lycra on a tennis court. Somehow that didn’t feel right, but then again I reckoned that she might be more sympathetic to my genetic disadvantage.

So I upped the volume and started…

Step one: left leg forward, hip up and down. “Now see, right here starts the problem”, I said to Karen on the video. “No matter how hard I try my hips (though not because of a lack of size) can’t wiggle right.”

I tried for a few minutes (Aussie Karen was of no help), but then decided that my stiff up and down moves will have to do. Step 2 involved little left-right hops… “SLOW DOWN”, I shouted at the video…(she didn’t).

Then came the biggest challenge. Step 3 was the walk forward. Now I was seriously in trouble. I mean I can walk forward, but how on earth was I to do the sweeping bend and hop whilst moving forward AND ending on the right foot at the end? I paused the video and went back. I cross-referenced a few other videos. I even fetched a long mirror. Eventually, I had to declare defeat and just walk and sweep as best I could.

Thankfully the next move was just a tap - at least that any idiot could do. So I tapped with gusto – except… Wait! I had to change direction. EISH!

Then three steps … TAP! And another 3 steps …TAP! Now only to remember to keep my left foot forward so I can do my very inelegant hip wiggle again.

At this point, I saw the childminders who were playing with kids in the road looking through my window. They were trying hard not to laugh, but I could see that they were cracking up. “Should have closed the blinds”, I whispered under my breath as I waved at them. “What do you think?” I shouted from my balcony.

They just shook their heads laughingly. I suddenly remembered that I had read somewhere that it takes a certain number of practice hours to become a master performer. So I stopped and googled “how many hours to become a master”. It turns out it is 10 000 hours. “So only another 9 999 hours and I would be brilliant at this”, I sighed.

For the next hour, I practised like a woman possessed, in my kitchen. Then my daughter arrived for coffee. “Look what I can do!” I announced proudly. She looked at me as I wiggled, hopped, swept and tapped with gusto.

“OMG!” she groaned. “I have to video this for my brother. This is going to be one of those family heirlooms in years to come.” (I think I detected more than a hint of sarcasm.)

Anyway, that night I proudly gave myself a mental gold star for learning something new. “It was a productive day!” I thought as I happily fell asleep.

The next morning was a different story. I could barely make it out of bed! It turns out that wiggling, hopping, sweeping, and tapping can make you seriously stiff if you are not used to it.

“The flippen video should come with a warning!” I groaned as I stumbled around for the next three days.

A week later, I listened to President Ramaphosa as he finally announced the lifting of lockdown to level one. “There can be no better way to celebrate our South Africanness than the Jerusalema challenge. So I urge all of you to take up the challenge and on Heritage Day show the world that we have good music and good moves”.

I jumped up!

“THE PRESIDENT WANTS US TO DO THE JERUSALEMA!!!”

I texted my daughter, who replied with various hilariously laughing emoticons. I immediately started to practice my moves again. “I will be ready, Mr. President, I will be ready!”

So: if anyone is organising a socially distanced Jerusalema tomorrow in Cape Town and can tolerate a genetically challenged South African, let me know. I’ll be there.

In the meantime, happy Heritage Day to you all!