In Motion: Pantsula Workshop with Impilo Mapantsula
- Alexandreia Tolbert
- May 3
- 3 min read
Workshop Experience at Millennium Dance Nashville
There are moments as a dancer where you’re reminded how much exists outside of your immediate environment—how many styles, histories, and approaches to movement are happening all at once.
This weekend, I experienced that through a workshop with Impilo Mapantsula ahead of their performance The Ecstatic in collaboration with Jeremy Nedd. The workshop offered an introduction to Pantsula—its cultural grounding and how the movement can live across different types of music, including house. I arrived slightly late but was welcomed by the wonderful and friendly staff, who directed me to the easy-to-find upstairs studio. That brief moment allowed me to settle before entering the space, and shortly after, we transitioned into movement.
First Impressions: A Different Physical Language
What immediately stood out was how different this style felt in my body.
Much of what I’ve learned through my training—especially in hip hop and Capoeira—moves in a more circular way, with a kind of rebound that loops and returns. The easiest way I can describe it is like moving through a polar system.
Pantsula felt more like a grid.
The movement was directional, precise, and intentional—less about circling through space and more about placing each step with clarity. Where other styles can feel like a kind of reverb, one movement echoing into the next, this style felt more staccato. Each step had a defined start and finish, requiring a different kind of control.
Learning the Foundation: Es phara-phara
At tempo, the movement is fast, but it was taught in a way that made it accessible. We worked through steps in different counts, which helped structure the learning process.
One of the core elements introduced was the Es phara-phara (a term rooted in isiZulu/isiXhosa slang), a three-step pattern that anchors the style.
While it’s possible to learn combinations without it, integrating this step adds both complexity and cohesion.
For most of the class, I felt comfortable following along, but when asked to incorporate Es phara-phara into a longer phrase, my footwork turned into a bit of a game of hot potato. With practice, I can see myself mastering it—especially by following Thomas, the main instructor, who used vocal cues to pair sound with movement. Many dancers do this, and his personal choice was “cah” and “cucah.”
That kind of rhythmic vocalization helps anchor the movement in the body, making it easier to find the timing and catch the beat.
Musicality & Rhythm: Finding the Bounce
Musically, this style challenged my usual approach.
I tend to anticipate structure in music, but here, the emphasis was on returning to a consistent internal bounce rather than tracking every variation. That grounded rhythm became essential.
The room itself supported the experience—the energy was open, and the presence of multiple instructors made the learning process feel supported and communal rather than performative.
Teaching Perspective: Depth Over Quantity
As a teacher, I took a lot away from this.
There was a clear emphasis on depth over quantity—we didn’t rush through material, but instead stayed with it, breaking things down and even using vocal cues to reinforce rhythm and timing.
From the outside, it might seem like only a few steps were taught.
But as a student, it felt like a lot.
And more importantly, it felt complete.
That balance—giving enough material while still making sure people leave feeling confident—is something I’m always refining in my own teaching.
🎥 Instructor Demonstration: Pantsula in Practice
Final Reflection: Before the Performance
At the end of class, the instructors demonstrated the movement at full level, and everything came together in a new way. What felt complex in isolation made sense in context.
It reinforced the idea that this style requires both precision and presence.
Leaving the workshop, I felt challenged in a way that was productive and engaging. It’s the kind of class where you truly get out what you put into it—each movement asks for intention, and the more you commit, the more it gives back.
Going into the performance, I’m less focused on what I’ll see and more curious about what I’ll experience.
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