Now, I believe it.

After experiencing Ladysmith Black Mambazo's singularly radiant harmonies and choreography at Calvin College on Thursday, I buy the story -- hook, line and sinker -- that founder and lead singer Joseph Shabalala first envisioned the group's extraordinary sound and musical approach in a mystical dream.

What the 10-member South African outfit produces could only be hatched in some spiritual, supernatural and extrasensory place. The voices emerge as a soothing, comforting, beautiful dream; the sort of dream that pushes away the disruptions and clamor of the waking world.

It's also the kind of musical experience that can turn a winter- dulled, Midwestern, small-college crowd into an exuberant, satisfied bunch of fans ready to go out and change the world, or at the very least, recycle their pop cans for UNICEF or some other worthy organization.

For 90 minutes, Shabalala led his colorfully garbed vocal mates in an uplifting celebration of African music with a Christian message, from the warm, opening strains of "Kusukela" to the jubilant, uptempo "Wena," which closed out the main set with an audience-pleasing flurry of individual and group dance routines, the singers' white tennis shoes and bright red socks flashing as they swung their feet above their heads and quickly snapped them back down to the floor.

As student activities director Ken Heffner put it, in spite of the incredible adversity and suffering group members endured before apartheid was dismantled in South Africa, "the music is joyful -- and it's a defiant joy."

The evening's joyfulness actually began well before Ladysmith Black Mambazo took the Fine Arts Center stage. African A Cappella, a nine-member vocal group made up of African students who attend Calvin College, earned a standing ovation and plenty of hoots and hollers from their classmates after performing a smartly arranged half-hour set of African songs and original choral tunes. Admitting to a case of the jitters in performing ahead of legendary singers they consider their heroes, the students quickly set their nervousness aside and delivered a polished set of songs that ranged from a traditional Nigerian medley to "New Life," a Boys II Men- like R&B-laced tune.

At the end of the night they even got a chance to join their idols on stage after Shabalala invited them to sing shoulder-to- shoulder with members of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, whose unusual spin on a traditional Zulu style of singing first found a worldwide audience through Paul Simon's 1986 album "Graceland."

Occasionally punctuated by percussive clucks and chirps or Shabalala's rhythmic shouts, the orchestra of perfectly balanced voices sang mostly in its native tongue, but also mixed in a fair share of English refrains on "Wangithanda" and on "Homeless," the song Shabalala wrote with Simon for the Grammy-winning "Graceland" album. Their combined voices seemed to simultaneously uplift and soothe -- producing "a different kind of calm" and peacefulness, according to longtime member Albert Mazibuko.

Often, group members acted out parts of their songs, turning the show into a brilliant combination of dance, theater and visual comedy, all while rendering exquisite multi-part harmonies. (Note to Britney "Lip-Sync" Spears: Some artists really can dance and sing at the same time.)

By the time Shabalala left the stage after singing the word "peace" several times into the microphone in a post-encore gesture, I was ready to run back stage and give these optimistic souls a group hug.

In Zulu, I guess that would be akin to proclaiming, "ngiyabathanda labafana," or "I love these guys," not to mention loving their message of hope and peace for a troubled world.

That seems only fitting on the eve of Valentine's Day, in a year that marks the 10th anniversary of the end of apartheid in South Africa and just a few weeks removed from Martin Luther King Jr. Day. So, jabula (rejoice), thandanani (love each other) and nihambe kahle (go well).