Dance in the townships of Cape Town.

Twelve children stand in bare feet holding onto rickety chairs, wearing hand-me-down leotards or torn underclothes. They have no regulation dance clothes or satin shoes, yet with straight backs and looks of pride on their faces, they execute ballet exercises to crackling, taped music.

These dozen dancers are part of the Dance for All project and come from several of the poverty-stricken townships on the dusty outskirts of South Africa's Cape Town, one of the most beautiful and dramatic cities in the world. Like most township children, these youngsters live in tumbledown, corrugated iron and wooden shacks that are often packed tightly together on litter-strewn ground, according to Philip Boyd, director of Dance for All. These makeshift villages are where many black South Africans were forced to move during the violent and repressive era of apartheid--the mandatory segregation of the races--which symbolically ended in 1990 with the release of Nelson Mandela from prison. Frequently, as many as eighteen people must live in one room, where there is no running water or toilet. Women are compelled to stand in line with buckets to draw water from a single tap, while men wait days along the side of the road hoping for work. Often, grandmothers are the primary homemakers because so many mothers labor long hours outside the ghetto areas.

Children in the townships are particularly vulnerable. With nowhere to kick a football and nowhere to cool off when temperatures soar, they are often left to themselves after school, susceptible to the drugs, alcohol, violence, and sexual abuse that plague their neighborhoods. These conditions are exacerbated when they have close family members in prison, which many do.

This bleak world seems an unlikely place to import ballet, but to Boyd, a former principal with Capab Ballet (now Cape Town City Ballet), dance is a way to enable the youngsters. "We are investing in children," he says. "It's tough, continuous work. It's not just an in-and-out job where something starts, then later fizzles out." These children, he says, have had little formal opportunity to dance. He and his wife, Phyllis Spira, former Royal Ballet soloist and prima ballerina assoluta at Capab Ballet felt they "had to do something about it," he explains.

As Boyd drives to the center, he tells how he makes the daily rounds in a bus, collecting the children from the Guguletu, Nyanga, and Khayelitsha townships to bring them to class. Approximately 200 children are involved in the Dance for All project, and they are all ages and sizes. "Our aim," says Boyd, "is to make these youngsters proud of themselves, to instill discipline and self-confidence, with skills that will aid them in their professional futures.

"We have one boy now studying in London at the Central School of Ballet. Others have gone on to the University of Cape Town's dance degree program. We also give concerts for the community," he continues. "Four boys appeared in Cape Town City Ballet's Romeo and Juliet as the tumblers in Act II. They were wonderful."

While Boyd founded the program on classical ballet, Dance for All now offers other dance disciplines, such as African dance headed by Hope Nonquonga, a founding student of Dance for All, and musical theater, jazz, and contemporary dance, directed by Pauline van Buitenen. "It is essential that the children retain their own roots," he explains. "We use African legends and teach African dance and jazz, so it's not only ballet that they learn." As part of the program's commitment to a broad range of styles, the children were taught a tap dance to perform at one of the concerts. The boys, says Boyd, had never seen tap dancing before, but they picked it up quickly. "The results were phenomenal. The children had to use their school shoes, but they still danced with precision, energy, and joy."

Funding for the program, however, is a tough challenge. The project is under the auspices of the David Poole Trust, and Boyd has received help from Cape Town City Council and some local businesses. Five-year support from a Dutch company, which brings paying tourists in to watch classes, ends this year. "It is a constant struggle," says Boyd. "There have been fund-raising dinners in the city, and individuals have helped. A chef in Frankfurt, who saw a TV news item on the project, was so moved that he took a flight to Cape Town and organized ten top chefs to create a `Table of Joy' benefit, which helped to fill coffers as well as appetites. And we also have a Sponsor-a-Child program."

Even the aspiring young dancers are asked to help. "The children are charged two rand (fifteen cents U.S.) per class," he explains, "but only if they can afford it. We never turn anyone away because they can't pay."

Boyd says he plans to get in touch with Judith Jamison and Arthur Mitchell for advice, since he foresees that, one day, he will have enough good dancers to make a new South African youth dance company. Meanwhile, the young Guguletu students are rehearsing a new dance that shows off each one's potential. Boyd, watching, beams proudly. "We are creating magic here," he says. "A beauty for their daily lives. And the rewards are great."

Margaret Willis is a U.K.-based DANCE MAGAZINE contributor.