Room 801 was room 801 no more. It transformed into the Great Savannah of Zimbabwe, powered by two virtuosos dressed in zebra print playing and singing traditional African music.

Martha Thom, a dancer from the Center for World Music and Related Arts, sang and danced while Jacob Mafuleni galloped into the room. He seemed ready for a big hunt and the audience was its prey. Their zebra print costumes hugged their bodies so their movements were sharp. Energy radiated across into the deepest corners of the room while they whistled and created hunting motions directed at each other. Costumes were creative and the atmosphere was as alive as a warm spring morning in the savannah.

Mbira is a small African musical instrument that consists of 22 to 28 metal keys mounted on a hardwood soundboard. Mbira master Mafuleni calmly introduced the sounds of Africa with soft-pitched songs while Thom accompanied the dulcet tones with the rattling of a couple Hosho (shakers). Together the instruments sounded like rain pouring hard onto the ground on a stormy night. It was an experience most Western ears have probably never heard.

A pair of performers dressed in full black with small accents of gold embroidery startled listeners when they broke out with extremely loud high-pitched singing. The mellow instrumentation was hidden beneath the piercing screeches. Drowning in a high-pitched wave, the rhythm was lost.

Although the cries became unbearable at times, Thom and Mafuleni kept big smiles on their faces. As they spryly danced, they created a savannah wherever they went. As Thom jumped towards the ceiling, it was impossible not to stare.

Throughout the night some of the random whistles and louder-than-normal cries were overwhelming. When they performed “Here Comes the Cows,” the song started out calmly but out of nowhere the singing grew louder and louder until it was too much for ears to handle.

Then, a sigh of relief.

A softer sound of the mbira was played in “Hanging Out” and Thom created a relaxing and graceful dance. This song was similar to “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” restoring peacefulness like a gentle lullaby.

For the last song Mafuleni traded the small mbira for the njari, which was the mbira mounted on a deze, or a hardwood bowl, and was played with two thumbs and the right forefinger.

With that, the night ended on an intimate level. It left a yearning to hop on a plane and take a trip to Zimbabwe. Just as the Shona people of Great Zimbabwe refer to the music as “healing music,” it left attendees completely cured.