I love TikTok. My screen time could attest to it. With that comes a lot of laughs, giggles and a bit of dancing here and there. The content is sometimes recycled, but honestly, anything to get away from productivity.

On a more serious note, the recycling goes beyond memes; even dance styles are passed around into different challenges. There is an unspoken rule to credit the original creator of a dance, yet we still see styles, sounds and even entire cultural moments being miscredited or detached from their origins.

Lekompo is a rhythm born in Limpopo. Rooted in chant-like vocals, percussive log drum patterns and a distinctly communal energy, it carries the texture of taverns, street gatherings and rural celebrations. With that sound came an entirely new side of TikTok. Artists, creators and fans from inside and outside the province rallied behind it. We were introduced to personalities and an array of artists, namely Shebeshxt, Naqua SA, Kharishma, TribbyWadiBhozza, Janesh and Shandesh, who have been persistent in pushing their regional sound into national consciousness.

The majority of us have infused the famous Skomota dance into our daily routines and have never looked back since. This entire festive season, if you are from Limpopo and heard “hoosh hoosh hoosh, holly molly, chachamesa canny,” you knew it was time to give your best Muruti Dancer “Lekunye” impersonation. These dances are not just trends; they are cultural signals. They tell us where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.

Somewhere along the way, many of these styles are being repackaged under the broader umbrella of Amapiano dances. The names are changing, and the geography is subtly disappearing. What was once distinctly Limpopo is becoming just “Amapiano dances,” and in this subtle shift, authorship is being blurred.

This is how erasure happens, not through loud denial, but through quiet absorption. A regional sound shapes the mainstream, yet when the mainstream retells the story, Limpopo becomes an erased reference instead of the foundation.

The digital age moves fast. Trends move faster, but archives should move carefully. Maybe the issue is not that the dances travel. It is when they arrive that they are stripped of their true identity.

Lekompo does not lose its identity because it evolves. It loses it when the story is retold without Limpopo in it. When regional sounds are polished, renamed and redistributed under the safer umbrella of Amapiano, the originators are pushed further from the spotlight.

Sounds can grow, and genres can blend, but credit should not shrink in the process. Limpopo is not an influence hiding in the background.

It is part of the blueprint.