By Julienne Honba
Every holiday season, young people from Ebolowa in southern Cameroon and surrounding villages gather for community dance nights that combine entertainment, socializing, and economic activity.
In Ebolowa, Cameroon, it is already late when the music finally gets loud. Loud enough to draw people toward the dance floor. The village of Olem, in the Mvila Department, in the South region of Cameroon, is usually quiet at this hour. But on July 26, the night od their annual dance gathering, the atmosphere seems different. Young people have traveled from nearby communities, some coming directly from Ebolowa, for a night that many have been looking forward to for months.
The events are commonly known in French as “bals dansants”; community dance gatherings organized during the holidays. They are not necessarily formal festivals — there is no elaborate program, official ceremony, or institutional backing. However, year after year, people show up.
Dylan Akono, 23, lives and studies in Ebolowa. For him, returning to the village during the holidays for the bals dansants has become an annual tradition. “What I really enjoy about these evenings is the lively atmosphere. You get to meet and connect with so many people,” he shared in an interview with Global Voices. “Approaching people at the dance when you don’t know them can be difficult, so it’s easier to stick with your own group of friends.”
People from all over the region converge for the event. That’s the case for Alice Ateba, 21, who lives in Yaounde, the political capital of Cameroon. This was the first time she had attended the gathering in Olem. “This is a friend’s village. She told me about it, and I decided to make the trip out of curiosity. The evening has been really nice. It’s been a great experience,” she beams. The experience was positive enough that she wants to return. “ If I get the chance to come again, I will.”
The dance floor is the focal point of the event. It is little more than a patch of green ground, but after dark, it takes on the feel of a village discotheque. Low lights cast a soft glow over the space, while four sticks planted in the ground mark the boundaries of the dance floor. One opening serves as both the entrance and exit. Beyond it, the night continues around the dancers. Groups of young people stand chatting, while temporary bars and small stalls cater to the crowd. Inside the makeshift enclosure, the music takes over.
The event is open to anyone willing to participate, although young villagers make up much of the crowd. The informality may be part of the reason the gatherings have endured across generations. No invitation system is needed. The date is set. Word spreads. People come.
But informality does not mean lack of organization. At 23, Julius Embolo, a member of the organizing team, says the dances have been part of village life for as long as he can remember. “These dances were already there when I was born,” he told Global Voices. Each village has its own predetermined date for the gathering. Once the holidays begin, members of the organizing committee meet to discuss the practical details, including where the dance will take place and what safety measures need to be put in place.
“The discussions are informal,” he adds. The organizers simply sit together and agree on what needs to be done. “The date is already known, but the location can change depending on the availability of spaces in the villages,” he continues. This means that organizers sometimes have to approach village chiefs to secure a suitable space for the night. “We make arrangements with the chiefs of certain villages so that we can have access to some spaces.”
The result is a gathering that appears spontaneous to those arriving for the music, but relies on a small network of people working behind the scenes to make it happen. There is no formal festival committee, no elaborate program, and no fixed venue. Yet the dance parties remain a community touchstone and a rare treat — a place where people can gather and socialize in person, away from the pressure of modern devices.
More than dancing
The dance floor is only one part of the story. Around it, small businesses appear. Temporary bars are set up for the night, while vendors sell drinks and other refreshments to the crowd. The longer people dance and talk, the more they need something to drink. Jacqueline Mendomo, popularly known as Mama Jackie, is one of many vendors who sees an opportunity in the crowds. She sets up a small drinks stand for the night, taking advantage of the gathering to make some extra money. “After hours of dancing and talking, people get thirsty,” Mama Jackie says. “Nights like these usually bring in more customers because people spend several hours at the celebration, moving between the dance floor,” she adds.
For anyone coming from Ebolowa or elsewhere, however, reaching the village can be a challenge. By the time these dances get underway, daytime transport has largely wound down. To get to Olem, one must go to the transport terminal in Newbell, Ebolowa. The terminal is much quieter than it is during the day. With many people already asleep and fewer transport options available, fares can increase. Motorcycle taxis become one of the main options. Sometimes three or four passengers share a motorcycle, depending on the circumstances. A journey that might cost around CFA francs 500 (USD 0.89) per person during the day can rise to about CFA francs 1,000 (USD 1.8) at night, according to people traveling to the gatherings. The transport problem is not merely about price. It is also about safety.
A community that still wants to meet
Cameroon is becoming increasingly digitally connected. However, connectivity does not necessarily mean that young people have stopped looking for physical spaces to meet. The question is not whether young people still enjoy dancing. The harder question is whether gatherings like these will keep the same appeal as entertainment becomes more digital. For now, the evidence at Olem suggests that they still have something to offer.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about these dances is what they reveal about young people’s relationship with community. A phone can connect someone to hundreds of people without requiring them to leave their room. A village dance demands the opposite. You have to go there. You have to see people. You have to speak to them, dance with them, laugh with them, or simply stand beside them while the music plays. That physical interaction matters.
UNESCO’s work on intangible cultural heritage highlights how community participation can help sustain cultural practices and collective identities. In Cameroon, UNESCO has recognized cultural traditions associated with Ebolowa’s ethnic Ekang community, including Mvet Oyeng, a tradition involving music, epic storytelling, and dancing. The village dances around Ebolowa show that culture lives beyond museums and official festivals. It can also live in ordinary gatherings where communities continue to meet across generations.
At a time when young people spend hours scrolling, the village dance offers a different kind of experience. For the young woman attending her first village dance, the experience was enough to make her promise to return. For the regular participant, there is no novelty left to discover, only a familiar tradition he says he will never tire of. Perhaps that simplicity is precisely what keeps the bals dansants alive. The music still brings people out of their houses, the temporary bars open, and when the holidays come, the villages around Ebolowa have a reason to stay awake.