Late on a Tuesday night, I find myself ringed by 13 clapping students, mangling a somersault as I attempt to keep to the beat of a conga drum. My partner in the circle seems somewhat more at ease, attempting an occasional kick and moving with significantly more grace.

This was my introduction to capoeira (cap-oh-ehr-uh), the Brazilian “game” that melds elements of martial arts and dance into a fairly mesmerizing – and exhausting – sport. A group of 15 students from within and outside Northwestern had congregated in a Kresge Hall classroom for the first night of class. A few had experience, but most were novices.

It’s not a fight, and it’s not a dance per se; hence, capoeira’s practitioners call it a game. Try to imagine a pit fight rendered into ballet: Two at a time, the players – called capoeistas in Portuguese – move through a circle, or roda, orchestrating beautiful, arcing kicks and rolls, artfully dodging their partners’ feigned attacks.

“In the true form of the game, there’s an element of danger, but it’s also a show,” says instructor Matt Hill. With slightly crooked, teen-idol features and a tattoo on each arm – one of a roda (pronounced Ho-da) – he stands out among the crowd. A Palatine, Ill., native, Hill began practicing capoeira after moving to San Francisco at age 15. Now 26, he runs several classes in the area, taking temp jobs Monday through Friday so he can teach. He says he’s seen games escalate into all-out brawls, but usually they stay friendly.

The origins of capoeira are obscured by a good deal of speculation and myth. Historians trace the practice to the African slaves who worked Brazil’s sugar plantations during the colonial era. While some believe the game was a means for the slaves to secretly hone their combat skills without arousing the suspicions of their white masters, others are skeptical. Eventually, it became associated with the outlaws of 19th century Brazil – the thieves and knife fighters whose exploits constituted their own urban mythology.

Today, capoeira is enjoying increasing popularity throughout the United States, but still has a relatively minor following. Unlike other martial arts such as Tae Kwan Do and Judo, it lacks a major organizing body.

“It’s like the Wild Wild West,” says Lupe Gutierrez, a student at Northeastern Illinois University. A capoeista for four years now, Gutierrez says there are few reputable teachers in Chicago. So, he has made the journey to NU for Hill’s class. “Word travels fast when someone’s teaching capoeira in the area.”

At first, I am slightly apprehensive. I’m not much of a dancer, and might be the only person ever diagnosed in physical therapy as clinically uncoordinated. In the first half of the class, we line up to learn the essentials: the genga, the basic step, is a lunge of sorts, from which the capoeista can dodge, swerve, and launch into their kicks. Fifteen minutes in, my quads are sore. After a half-hour I’m sweating, and so are a few other students. Hill takes a no-nonsense approach to instruction, and I can overhear a few students commenting on how serious he seems.

“I feel so silly because the guy is so serious,” says Music freshman Catherine Brookman.

After a break, the students gather into the rota, readying for their first games. The veterans enter, or “buy in,” the circle first, but slowly, the novices give it a try. None of us are particularly fluid, and watching people throw their heads between their legs before trying to roll is fairly amusing. I decide to hazard an attempt. After all, it’s hard to be self-conscious when everybody else has been tumbling across the ground.

Inside the roda, any anxiety I had fades away. Granted, I can barely pull off the genga without tripping over myself, and I almost fall while trying a kick. But somehow, it’s very satisfying to put myself on the line and give it a shot. As Hill reminded the class a few minutes before, the point isn’t to put on a show, it’s to play the game.

Another student buys in and I retreat back to the ring, where I start clapping along with the drum beat. “That was good,” says Ian Epstein, the Weinberg freshman who co-founded the class. I don’t know if he means it, but he seems genuinely glad his peers are trying to play. I’m glad too. Hopefully, I’ll make it back for the next class.

Reach Jordan Weissmann at [email protected].