West Valley City » When you're a refugee from Africa, putting on a traditional dance performance can require buying costumes and instruments from thousands of miles away. The drums come from Rwanda , the goatskin costumes from Kenya.

This year, the bill could be paid, in part, with help from the state of Utah.

Some of the newest recipients of state folk arts grants are two African dance and music groups that hope to strengthen their community and pass down tradition through the singing and dancing that reminds them of home. Folk grant recipients don't get much money from the state -- a few hundred or a couple thousand dollars, depending on the group -- but that's enough to make an enormous difference for people who may be living on Utah's economic margins.

Many of the young dancers in The Best of Africa Cultural Group have parents who don't own cars, don't have driver's licenses or work at night, so it's up to the organizers to pick the children up. The grant will help pay for gas for a group that hopes to keep kids away from gangs and drugs. If they had more money, they'd like to buy a van.

"These kids, when they get here in America they start changing their behavior," said Valentine Mukundente, who co-founded the group. "I want them to remember where they came from."

Because many refugee children come to America when they are very young, they don't always have a chance to learn about their native traditions before they arrive.

On Monday evening, 10 girls twirled their hands, rolled their hips and jumped lightly to the pounding music at the Utah Cultural Center in West Valley City. They looked completely at ease. On Thursday, they will perform at a school in Draper for students learning about Africa.

Many of the dancers' parents, who are refugees from Burundi and Rwanda, are still learning about America. Mukundente wants to find a space to offer workshops for the newcomers, to teach them about everything from AIDS to domestic violence. Even something as basic as a sandwich might be a new concept.

A few miles away, members of the small Didinga community, which has only a few dozen people in Utah, recalled how tribal members came together from all over the country to perform last summer in Boulder, Colo. Even in Sudan, the group continues to scatter as people leave their drought-plagued villages looking for food.

Now in America, the Didinga work whatever jobs they can, often giving up school in order to pay the rent. Playing music reminds them of who they were before years of war transformed them into refugees.

"It's from a thousand years ago," said Regina Mark. "We feel like we're at home."

And their goal is not just cultural. In addition to performing, the Didinga hope to raise money to send to the people they left behind in Africa.

"They keep on calling us all the time asking for money," said Aurelio Irio, who created a Web site to educate the public about the Didingas' suffering. Friends and family call from Africa describing starvation and death.

"One dollar can make a difference," he said.

jlyon@sltrib.com