Johaar Mosaval’s talent took him from school panto to the Royal Ballet, writes Mary Corrigall Johaar Mosaval has catered for more than 10 people although there are only two of us in his living room. There are boxes brimming with specialities from the local bakery near his home in Lansdowne, Cape Town. Samoosas, mini burgers and bite-size steak pepper pies are calling our names.Mosaval's catering instincts might have to do with the excitement at being in the spotlight again after almost 40 years, but it could also be explained by his experience of entertaining the press, guests during the countless receptions he must have attended during his heyday as a member of the Royal Ballet Company in London from the 1950s through to the late '70s."Eat, eat," he commands, with his chest puffed out like a cobra. He may be almost 90 and hasn't danced since the late '70s but Mosaval's upper body is erect, taut and shaped by decades of ballet training.story_article_left1His history hasn't left its mark only on his body; it is plastered on the walls of his lounge. Faded photographs of a young man in costume defying the laws of gravity populate the room."I had great elevation for my height," observes Mosaval proudly. His height, or lack of it, was to be his main barrier to joining a ballet company, or at least that is what Dulcie Howes, the founder of Capab, told a young Mosaval."She said it wouldn't be my colour," he recalls.Howes, who discovered Mosaval dancing in a school pantomime and took him under her wing, was proved wrong when he not only landed a scholarship at the then Sadler's Wells ballet school in London, but went on to be offered a place in the company that would be renamed the Royal Ballet Company."London's Royal Opera House in Covent Garden was my artistic home for 25 years," says Mosaval wistfully, as if he is disbelieving of his own good fortune.The barriers to a successful dancing career were formidable, insurmountable even. Apart from his height, it was unthinkable for a young Muslim man to become a ballet dancer. His parents were disapproving and initially stood in the way of his advancement.The imam in the District Six community where he grew up in the '40s had never attended a ballet, as coloured people were not permitted to watch performances at whites-only theatres.This made Mosaval's success all the more sweet and remarkable. It is no wonder he can recall every detail leading up to the moment that he was given a contract to sign by the prestigious British ballet company in the '50s."I became ill, I was so shocked. It was the most incredible experience."block_quotes_start He attributes his colourful life to good fortune, it was his talent that enabled him to transcend religious, gender and racial barriers block_quotes_endHis neighbours in Lansdowne are his usual audience, but today he also has two members of the press, a writer and photographer. There is renewed interest in Mosaval's career as a dancer because the Arts and Culture Trust awarded him a lifetime achievement award in a ceremony on Friday evening.The South African public and probably generations of dancers have never heard of Mosaval. The award will generate curiosity around him again, although he once graced the pages of local newspapers. He has a framed article published in the Argus in 1967 that bears the headline "City dancer is likened to Nijinksy".Ever the performer, he is appreciative of the attention and recognition the ACT award will generate, but is bitter that the government has overlooked his contribution to the arts."I wish the government would give an award to me. They only know about their own people, not about me. I carried the South African flag with me all over the world."full_story_image_vright1This remark functions as the segue into a recollection of a tour the Royal Ballet Company made to Australia, where his race created a stir. Apparently people noticed the "dark boy" and wondered "who he is and where he is from", recalls Mosaval.Performing Bluebird in Sleeping Beauty, "the dark boy made such a big impression", he says, smiling. "I have been very fortunate" is a common refrain in Mosaval's lounge.His talent must have been obvious to all who witnessed it. Not only did he use it to persuade the imams in District Six that ballet was an acceptable pursuit for a Muslim boy, but it is what caught the eye of Howes and the Royal Ballet Company. In other words, although he attributes his colourful life to good fortune, it was his talent that enabled him to transcend religious, gender and racial barriers."I was the first Muslim and black man to join the Royal Ballet Company." This wasn't only a coup for a black South African but challenged conservative attitudes in Britain in the '50s. One of his career highlights (no doubt his neighbours can attest to the proliferation of such events in his life) was dancing for a performance commissioned to celebrate Queen Elizabeth's coronation.block_quotes_start It is his glory days as a dancer in London, Europe and around the world that sustains his spirit block_quotes_endHe danced a solo, his first at the Royal Opera House."I danced it that night for every king and queen of the world and every president that was invited to come to this royal gala performance in honour of Her Majesty the Queen."Inspiring the late Christiaan Barnard to become a heart surgeon is another story he revels in recounting. Mosaval was 18, Barnard was young too - he hadn't chosen his career.Mosaval's performance in Coppelia at the Little Theatre as an ageing doctor who brings a wooden puppet to life by placing a heart in her body apparently planted a seed in Barnard's head. "That night Chris Barnard went home and told his mother that he wanted to be involved in heart surgery."Mosaval only became privy to this in 1971 while on holiday in South Africa, when Barnard got in touch and invited him to a reception to thank him for his unwitting influence.full_story_image_vleft2It is an extraordinary story. Too good almost to believe but for the photograph on the wall showing a beaming Barnard shaking Mosaval's hand.Mosaval would dance until his mid-40s before returning to his homeland in the late '70s.It is hard to fathom why he would return to apartheid South Africa. His love for Cape Town and his family was a motivating factor. He would go on to break racial barriers; appearing on TV, the stage of the Nico Malan and taking up an important position at a ballet dance teachers' association, despite the disapproval of its white members.However, it is his glory days as a dancer in London, Europe and around the world that sustains his spirit."Look, there is my name, alongside Rudolph Nureyev and Margot Fonteyn," he says, pointing to a poster."I was so fortunate in my life."..