PickPocket

Creativity

2012-02-21T00:01:00.000-08:00

What keeps us going? What information do we seek out andconsider? Are the arts there for entertainment or stimuli, for stories orinsight? Being a creative takes more work than a level headed business major.It means constantly being on the move, in all directions. It means exploringall your inner desires and visions, and then exploiting them to anyone whomight be interested in making them happen. A network is what we rely on. Goingout is how we find it. No one wants another phone call; they want a face, acharacter- a concept with weight and core. They want me- when I was 12 and when I’ll be30. An array of complexities. A blow up of immense catch on ideas. A wayforward. A new thinking process. Society expects a one dimensional performance.There are only a limited bunch of individuals who are waiting for the nextexplosion of creativity. They want me to become a leader. I want to become awriter that’s read.

Just an Interview with Just a Band. (One small seed issue 24)

2012-02-17T02:20:00.000-08:00

Makmende made the cover of Time!
Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported Licence by Just A Band, 2010

How has 2011 been ready for the world?

2011’s been good to us! We’ve been busy and were reallylooking forward to next year…unless a zombie apocalypse puts a bit of adampener on things.

What senses drive your music?

We don’t have too much of a synesthetic relationship to ourmusic, but pictures and stories accompany the sound. ‘Save my soul,’ forexample, evokes a dystopian kind of story.

What sounds were you working towards when the band firstcame together?

We were just experimenting and it was as much a discoveryfor us as it was for the audience. Come to think about it, that hasn’t changedmuch… We try to keep things interesting by trying out new things and seeingwhere they lead.

The consumption and distribution of music has changedradically since the massive growth of online music sharing platforms like Soundcloudand Spotify. Your website is updated regularly. Have you found the internetuseful?

This band owes its very existence to the internet. It allowedus to put our music and visuals out there when we didn’t have any localsupport, and that allowed us to build up enough interest that we actuallystarted to become relevant to a local audience. But by the then we’d foundpeople around the world who were interested in what we were doing so ourthinking had broadened a lot. Physical CD distribution is such a headache but it’sso easy online. What great times we live in!

Where do the themes of your videos come from?

Sometimes it’s based on the words of the song, sometimes it’sa feeling the music evokes or just a technique that we wanted to try out. Wethrow suggestions around till we get an idea that works and then we get down tobusiness.

On that note, what’s the music industry like these days?

The industry is crazy right now! All genres seem to exist inone nebulous space. It’s not weird anymore for rock music to show a hip-hopinfluence or vice versa. Not to mention what David Guetta is doing to everyone.As goofy as the results of that cross-pollination can sometimes be, it’screatively liberating. New distribution channels and upheavals on the businessside of things make this unique moment for the industry. We’re overwhelmed…butin a good way.

What have you found in your travels?

Perspective. We’ve been able to get a different point ofview not only on our own work, but also on how the art and music industry, andcreative people’s methods and lifestyles, work in different places. It’s a bitdepressing when we came back home and our own industries are so underdeveloped.

You recently went to New York to do an exhibition andperform. How was it?

We were really happy with how it went. The audience was veryreceptive to what we had put together, which was especially gratifying as wewere bringing a bucket load of references from an ocean away and were worriedabout how the narratives in our exhibition would translate. But it worked outpretty well. And we had lovely crowds: they were open to what we were doing andhad such a good vibe.

In the myth of how the band met, nomads look for their owntruth and bring it forward through music. What is your truth?

The group is all about good vibes. As cheesy as that sounds,that seems to be the thread running through most of our work: making somethingthat makes someone else’s day a bit more cheesy or funky or transcendent.

Where were all your music videos filmed and were youinvolved?

Yup, we’re DIY about everything. We’ve grown to enjoy thesense of control. We just happened to be interested in all the stuff beyondmaking music and we thought it would make for a more interesting experience foreveryone if we could fold all our varied interests into this project. That’s whatled to our working on video art installations and such. We think it makes the banda more layered kind of project, both for us and the audience.

How do visuals play in your music?

We don’t necessarily think about the visuals whilecomposing, although sometimes they do evolve together. But it all felt a bitmore like the product of one mind once we started making the visuals.

That’s quite an eclectic mix of album covers. Who designsthem?

Jim was our main design guy until Mbithi Masya joined in. They’reboth pretty good at it.

What elements make up a good track?

The actual tunes! A friend of ours was ranting about howthis isn’t about sound design. If someone’s listening on cheap speakers and can’tappreciate some delicate frequency tweaks and that’s all the track has, then it’sa bit of a fail. You want everything to be as good as it can be and all thepieces of the song to harmonize and flow together. But the tunes have to grabyou.

What have you guys got lined up for 2012?

We would love to come to South Africa. We’ve grown updigging and being influenced by South African music, from older acts like TKZeeto newer dudes like Goldfish and DJ Cleo. Were playing at South by Southwest inTexas in March, and keep your eyes peeled for our Fela Kuti covers on the RedHot + Riot 2 compilation.

If you could colour your favourite sound, what would it be?

The burbling of porridge on the boil would be a lightpurple.

This is Mooki

2012-02-16T04:18:00.000-08:00

This is me. There is he. This is the story of Tam missing Mooki. I gotta admit, story time I miss the most. In the car, them porches, even on morning missions with jam and toast. When we share, there should be a jar- to capture expressions and laughter to keep when yo ass is far.Shit motha fucka, I thought I had living down to a tee, but I just realised I'm most me when pairs do it like Jay Z and Bee.My bud, my holmes, my friend the mookness. How I gotta car jam with one co-pilot less?MY radio, she's missing. I now pump jams with my mobile. It gets sadder and quieter with every each mile. That's when I think of the empty moments your crack or androd did go0d. Hip hop has never been so real, except when we're rolling in the mook mansion hood. The lack of lekka dans. Yoh. I'm on my own. We watched. Observed. His brewski, her bind and the chommies used the dance floor to bone. Bang dammit! These legs were made to shuffle- just so you know- no one does it better than your chocolate bum and a side of waffles.

Miss you guy!

This is he

2012-02-16T03:30:00.000-08:00

Dreadlocked desires of a fortnight ago. My main man, my brother, he chose his abode. He breathes in oxygen, it comes out red. His passion, that realness. It's a quality not dead. Take a sharp turn left- it's a wizard with his own insight. Today, and the one after that. It is his time to shine and fight the fight. Ideally our thoughts are paired up by the Connoisseurs of fine cheese and wine. This human, this gent- he can see the bigger design.
-Of fate, of time, of being just fine.
-Of meaning, of doing, of arousing and seeking signs
Beating his heart as he steps with intent. His words and actions, their truth is meant.
Your'e an Arden, a genre of your own. The cause and effect creates the fear of the unknown.
Rejection plays a role- an inner core insecurity. That challenge can be conquered if you replace ego with purity.

Hello my family. Nice to have you home. on this welcoming rendition- I'm slamming your eyes and emotions with what I call a poem.

This is I

2012-02-07T06:32:00.000-08:00

Cage up. With a condition. people can see it. The people that know. Acting odd. like me. For people to see. Do they notice? A change? Hardly. a hint. maybe. It is hard to like yourself when you think others don't. It's even harder when you own your own doubt. Specifics are vague when an answer can't be shared. These questions, my time- it can only be dared.

I'd like to spit rhymes. Feel fine. Be aroused. Look and browse. Would you accept me if I had no insecurities? If I used my conscience to build cities?

Dear the beloved, we are gathered here today. If not for my presence, then at least here my say. I don't need to shout- my stories made them scared. Those limits are for them, it's only cause they cared.

Making it

2012-01-10T23:45:00.000-08:00

“IscreamStix does not depend on a genre. It is more of whatwe like to call feel-good dance music. We do not define ourselves as‘electrified rock ‘n hop’ because of the elements each member brings to theband, but it definitely goes beyond that.” –Nathan Rudnick, Lead Guitar

Their sounds echo through South Africa. From city to city,they reveal a bit more about their identities, their ideas, their music andtheir aim to become South African ambassadors.

Their current Reality Show ‘Making it’ is a platform forthem to showcase the behind-the-scenes of the music industry’s post-success. Theshow deals with the band and how they are coping with fame, acknowledgement andtheir hard work. The public always wants to be in the ‘know,’ so together withMannequin Pictures and IscreamStix, they bring you a reality show, watchingeach new step they take.

The boys all have different ideas on why they agreed to befollowed around, but all-in-all the reality show is about the trials andtribulations of a band trying to be successful. They love their music. Theylove being in the band, and they try to capture that on tape. Their energyflows naturally because they feel the vibe of it all.

“We believe thiscountry is a lot more diverse than what the media thinks”- Bheki Dladla

They pull in a crowd with each performance that makes peopleleave their mundane world behind and enter the sounds and performance of theIscreamStix world. Their energy is real and raw. Not rising or born from theMother City, these gents have become the personification of Cape Town’s cityvibe.

With vigour most tweens can’t keep up with and a close bondfrom all four of the band members, this music is set to be the biggest exportout of this country. With hopes of touring Europe and America, they believetheir quality for international standards are high. Tony believes that “If you listen to IscreamStix- it would be hard for people to guess which country they come from.” So let’sput words into practice and get that theory tested as soon as it’s possible. Nextyear, I expect an international tour with such high calibre that introducesIscreamStix to a culmination ofdifferent cultures. That would definitely top up their ambition to becomeambassadors, especially for a bunch of lively guys who focus on the amusingmotion of a lifestyle.

Luke and Bheki, the two front men of this band haveintroduced themselves to the world as IscreamStix. We know them for who theyare- a duo of Top Deck goodness, with blond swagger and dreaded locks. With apaired up tone of authentic egos, past modelling careers and a drive both ofthem are able to switch on to conquer any element of music and individual whocrosses their path, these two seem they were born for fame and freedom. Theirprinciples are simple: harmless fun and a desire to be heard.

Luke believes he has many alter egos other than Iscream. Heis the white-posh-Westerner, the chained Mason and the guy who screams. “Idon’t really need people to understand what I’m about. Those alter egos meansomething to me, and if they mean something to me, that’s all that reallymatters. It’s supposed to remain an illusion”- Making It Reality Show.

In other words, it is all about a happy band making it. Withsmiles that charm the ladies and personalities that indulge your laughter, eachindividual brings a different flavour to this group. All coming from differentmusic backgrounds, if you take a good listen, you can hear the alternativeinfluences in the way they compose their songs. The character of theirexperiences has played a role in the authenticity of their music. They want youto come alive in each song. From pop to rock, hip-hop to heavy metal, each bandmember contributes original sounds, chords and beats to keep the existence ofthis band full of rhythm and life.

“We have fun.Otherwise there’s no point, is there? - It’s not a contrived sound driven to becommercially successful. It just is.”- Tony Shine, Bass

Watch out world. You shall soon taste exactly whatIscreamStix is made out of.

A savage named Lucy

2011-12-29T06:18:00.000-08:00

With an intense combustion of noise, this technical,post-melodic band makes each song feel as final as death-complete and airy.Their instruments dash forward with their heads, as lead guitarist Austen Lewiswatches his fingers support the frame of chords on his Ibanez. It’s black.Johnny Cash black. Smart black. Like his top. Like his hair. Like his attitude.Black like Opeth's wind theme. And tools album covers. And Black XS- the scentfor men and woman who boldly push the barriers. Black-like there’s no genre andno mess.

With double bass drumming madness and single infinite toneson the bass, this trio have what it takes to find their limit and tear it open.Defining their metal-esque force and simplicity of shredding for enthusiasm,Savage Lucy fuels the power on stage. It’s as if we are in their basement tooscared to move, to breathe, as we might miss a chord, a feeling.

Does anyone? Can anyone? And will anyone know how to feelthis music once it has passed? Will you bow your head down to the throne ofmusic? Will you emerge in their more silent tones? Will you watch them whileyou listen?

It’s all relative in hearsay. Fuck the sex. The drugs. Nomore rock and rolling. This is music made to appreciate. To be understood. Tobe confused. Harmonious. Battled with. Not afraid of.

This music was made with no intention of a label. It is theessence of exploration. The meaning of life in its foreground essence. It isthe background to an existential crisis. A break up. A warning of nuclear blow outs. An idea toprevent aids. A space exploration. A band. A Savage called Lucy.

You ask why I’m proud, I’m South African...

2011-12-29T03:20:00.000-08:00

my version, my thought. those that belong to the year 2010...

Archbishop Desmond tutu shared his insights for SouthAfrica becoming a large community in 1999. He presented the public with theconcept of humanity to connect all individuals who have suffered the actions, isolation,evidence and effects apartheid has had on this country. His concept of humanityhas an origin, and it belongs to a Bantu language system which stands presentas a cultural and traditional way of life South Africans are familiar with.

“One of the sayings in our country is Ubuntu- the essenceof being human. Ubuntu speaks particularly about the fact that you can’t existas a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness. You can’tbe human all by yourself, and when you have this quality- Ubuntu- you are knownfor your generosity. We think of ourselves far too frequently as justindividuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what youdo affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for thewhole of humanity.”- Desmond Tutu

So, you might be thinking this has no relevance to why Iam proudly South African. However dear readers, I disagree entirely. Theconcept of Ubuntu is my relevant link to all of what I observe- the wayindividuals of all races, genders and culture are connected. I don’t aim tobring about aspects of social economic standards or what a beautiful country welive in. If you get off your comfortable bottoms to explore, you will feel andknow what we live within and around. This exposure will provide no help topeople who have lived here before. What I am willing to do is push forward theconcept of the way south Africans live together, help create opportunities forone another and share their open, yet bruised hearts with whomever requests it.

I live for the streets. Jo’burg taught me to drive. CapeTown made me walk. Each journey left me with an impact. This was not mydestination, and not my trip, but the people I interacted with on the way. Thepeople living on the streets taught me something. They live for simplicity-bread, kindness, a form of shelter and conversation. Out of the needs theycrave for survival, one aspect of city living, of human living, isconversation. Who takes the time to share some words or ask how they are? Notyou, the fashion consultant who can’t wait to get free merchandise off a shoot,or you, the man comfortable in your corporate space and air conditioned officeand espresso machines. It’s me, the young adult girl who barely owns anythingmyself, except for my heart.

Just like us, they too are human. Sometimes we forgetthis because we are so indulged and self-obsessed with ourselves. Sometimes ourblinds are up and we don’t pay attention. Either way, we don’t recall peoplethat are less fortunate than us. We have become desensitised.

We blame the people on the streets for crime, for acts ofmurder, rape and theft. However my question is to the citizens of South Africa.Do we ever take responsibility for our part in their wrongdoings? How can weexpect people living on the street to respect our property and lives if we can’tdo the same for them?

We are faced with situations each day where we have thechance to help, but discard the opportunity because we are in a rush, have nopatience for their pleas to survive and forget to share a hand to humanity.From dust to dust, we must remember. We invade their living spaces on thestreet by photographing the areas they inhabit and the lifestyle they have beengiven out of choice. We mock these people with ridicule and ignorance. We havebecome inhumane and inconsiderate. I dislike human beings. I dislike me.

We choose to ignore the poverty and they choose topersist. Will there ever be a compromise between the classes? Trust me when Isay they are not treating us the way we treat them. If anything, they have morerespect, more compassion and a genuine happiness we spend our whole livestrying to attain.

My entire life I have tried to contribute some kind ofconnection with people living next to the sidewalks, sleeping on the pavementsand begging at the robots. Johannesburg was my home for 22 years. I had a routeI took from my house each day. I came across certain individuals each day.

Guy one has a large smile. He stands on Louis Bothaselling dustbin bags. I don’t think he minds that I never buy them, but myloose change is his when I have some. He provides me with a handshake and acollection of sentences. Knowing I pass him every day gives me a sense ofmeaning. In his absence, I feel a little lost. His presence makes me feelsecure.

Guy two is coming up. He sells newspapers and high fives,two things that are vital to start off my morning. He deals me a compliment andsome words and I am set to indicate left onto the hill.

Moses is my centre. He is also my petrol attendant at mylocal Engen. I get out the car. He always gives the best hugs. Our talks areanything but superficial. He always makes sure a sincere ‘how are you’ ispresented and I waste more time at the garage than intended, but it is alwaysworth it. He provokes answers from me that most people with a high sense ofintelligence or master’s degree can’t comprehend. He has one up on them: lifeexperience. I can’t provide him with much. I give over my textbooks I have no usefor anymore. This makes his education affordable, and I feel like I have done anoble deed.

Grayston drive is a hoot. The men who try clean yourwindows are always being threatened and shouted at. I personally think it’s funnyand useful when you don’t get the chance to clean your car. Guy three is a craftsman.We connect with dance and philosophy, in other words ‘tams jams’ and ‘quotes ofthe day.’ I always leave feeling alive. I thank him for his time.

These are just a few of the people I am lucky to pass byon most days. I wish I could say I had provided them with some hope, sparechange or some attention of value. However, this is not the case. In fact, eachpersonality has managed to bring a moment of light and optimism to my life, andI feel grateful to have those memories by my side.

This is the concept of Ubuntu I want to share with thepeople who have not given enough time to their people to familiarise themselveswith. We are living in a country with continuous standards of growth, and onlywhen all South Africans unite, we shall stand strong.

An Average Man- tribute to Harvey Pekar

2011-12-24T02:36:00.000-08:00

On a Monday afternoon, this July, we said goodbye to a comicbook writer. Fittingly Harvey Pekar was found by his beloved wife, JoyceBrabner, in their modest home in Cleveland Ohio. Joyce was his third wife.

Pekar was diagnosed with cancerin 1990. Though he had serious health problems the ultimate cause of his deathis not clear. Long term readers of his melancholy output will put it down tochronic existential loneliness. His masterpiece, OurCancer Year, co-written with Brabner, is an exceptionally honestand moving look at his tussle with death.

“Life is a war of attrition.You have to stay active on all fronts. It’s one thing after another. I’ve triedto control a chaotic universe. And it’s a losing battle.”

Pekar’s quietly obsessive themes were anxiety, insecurity and anabiding suspicion that the universe had it in for him. His strikinglyconsistent tone was one of benumbed emotional angst. Everyman as worrier. Inthe constant struggle between consciousness and death – death won. Harveyalways knew it would. That’s what made his comics so low key, depressive andforthright.

His upbringing was dominated bygloomy emigrant parents. After the devastation of the Second World War theymade it very clear to their only son that he should always expect the worst.That way when the unlikely possibility of something good happening proved void,he wouldn’t be surprised. A kind of grim stoicism was his deepest philosophy.The seeds were planted early in childhood.

His best known comic remains AmericanSplendour – thanks tothe successful Hollywood film of the same name. Schlubby character actor, PaulGiammatti, balding and morose, does a dead-on dead-beat impression, includingPekar’s distinctive whine. The book is a triumph of mundane existence. Pekarcomes across as the ultimate silently enraged anti-hero. An ineffectuallyseething, rumpled, obsessive-compulsive “flunky file clerk”. Strugglingmightily against the relentless tide of urban anonymity, thankless work andloneliness.

After trying out a clumsyseries of stick figures himself, Pekar knew enough to know he needed a realartist to match his affecting language. Robert Crumb and Harvey were friendssince meeting at a garage sale in 1962. Their mutual passion for early jazz andbluegrass cemented the relationship. It was dumb luck on Pekar’s part: RobertCrumb has been called “the Goya of the 20th Century”. Crumb, a genuine masterof comics, would illustrate much of Pekar’s early work.

Harvey wanted a comic book that would illuminate his peevish internaldialogue with the drudgery of existence. It was a thoroughly biographicalfiction centered on something he knew well: “average man syndrome”. Pekar’sembattled humour quickly found an audience. His days were ordinary and terriblyfamiliar to many. He was an example of how to retain your dignity by lookinginwards with honesty and curiosity.
Fellow comic book artist, Dean Haspiel,acknowledges Pekar’s legacy: “He taught us that there are many versions of thetruth. Really his entire life is in comic book form. The most respectful thingto do at a Jewish funeral is to pick up the shovel and spread the dirt acrossthe grave yourself. You’ll hear stories and more and more people will talkabout Harvey Pekar. They’re helping “spread the dirt.” This very normal guyfound the extraordinary in the ordinary and showed us who he truly was.”

Harvey once wrote: “Life seemed so sweet and sosad and so hard to let go of in the end.” He will be missed.

A Happy Place Creation: Calling all Creatives #8

2011-11-14T02:17:00.001-08:00

(July 26, 2010- my first blogfor onesmallseed.net)

“I saw visuals before I saw anythingelse. I still remember the smell of crayons and wall berries from my youth.”

Serena Julian Armour is a revelationfor the Cape Town creative scene.Using her Loop Streetloft, left to her by family,she decided to use the space for something that makes her and others happy byhighlighting all forms of talent.

This is the eighth Calling AllCreatives exhibition she has held integrating visuals, fashion, concepts andall sorts of design.

She started A Happy Place Creationabout a year ago when her husband suggested the idea to open up a space andexhibit works she was passionate about. With the help of social networking,flyers and banners - her shows are visited by many. Word of mouth is also abonus, as well as the appeal of free admission.

“I don’t need human traffic; it’s justme up here, just me.”

With that said she has opened up herspace and welcomed artists from all different backgrounds and alternative outlets.

The selection process is up to Armour.She collects works from all over. People send in as much as they can for amoment of exposure, or as we like to call it ’15 minutes of fame.’

“There are no more than 20 artworks pershow. They have to be phenomenal and strong, and I must remember that I’m notthe only person that thinks something is beautiful - it must be shared.”

People just want to be seen and heard.They want to portray their concepts to an audience, illustrating that they aredeveloping their voice and have arrived at the creative scene. Serena uses herheart and passion when it comes to showing off new artists. She is an artdirector and a designer and doesn't want artists to feel exploited, takenadvantage of or not noticed.

I caught up withone of the artists whose work was bold and dynamic, and caught my eyeimmediately.

He goes by the name Monk Nine, a.k.aKeenan Peterson, whose artworks have a high quality of pop and street artinfluence. Monk believes his “art is an extension of the self and who he is, isemotionally based.”

He has a fetish of monkeys, which isportrayed in his art. “It’s the only way of woman experimentation,” suggestsMonk. He resonates with the ape figure, facial structures and how people lookafter you. The idea of evolution moves him. Monkeys are often compared topeople, and he wants to take advantage of that thought and play it up in visualand emotional imagery.

He is inspired by Andy Warhol and Stanley Kubrick, and thinks Marilyn Monroe isone of his favourite characters.

On the whole, Calling AllCreatives is a project that is innovative and novel. Each exhibition hasdifferent people, but with the same turnout. The people have a great energy andare not pretentious, like many are when gathered at an art gallery conversingintellectual babble over wine. The people who arrive here are real, honest andsupportive of the art scene in Cape Town, plus the wine only costs R5 for a glass and unlimitedsupply till it runs out throughout the evening. As the ambience is collected, adeejay or band performs to set the tone.

So many peoplewant the chance to exhibit their works, and Serena has created a platform forthem. These exhibitions occur every two to three months, so be sure to check itout. Who knows, one piece may speak to you?

@#$! you! I'm punk rock

2011-11-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

My jeans are so tight I can’t even fart. I am inneed of a certified badass to come rescue me. It won’t happen here in CapeTown, because they are in desperate need of a laxative. An identity laxative. Idon’t know if they would cope if their skinny jeans were torn in the skank pit,or deal well with beer in their face and hair. However my rescue will happen inthe hometown of the Vale, Joburg’s grungy sector of metal and punk.

…I’m 16 again, standing in the parking lot car-barring any liquid thatwill lead me to spit, push and provoke strangers. Back to the chaos and rawenergy is where I am. No more electro at The Assembly. No intimate Tuesdayevenings at The Waiting Room. Just pure debauchery at Rockabilly’s in Edenvale-the alternative venue that replaced Vaughn’s a while back.

Instead of being taught, I felt it. Punk heard me as well as I heardpunk. I needed a release with passion of protest and rage attached with noshame, but rather a melody. And there he was, waiting for me- Punk.

“Come on man, who likes titties? Be honest guys. F* yeah? Put your handsin the air. Who likes beer? (The crowd roars out a blaring “yeah!”)Okay, for 80% percent of the guys and 20 percent of the lesbians here,this one is for you.”

After giving out a voucher to suck dick, the bare-chested star-tattooedJay Kopping introduced us to Jhb punk band Shots Fired. He announces how muchhe loves titties and beer, while the crowd shoves their way around the areabefore the stage. Jay Kopping belongs in a festival that lasts 365 days a year.He is the mad man your mother never let you date, but he is, with no doubt inthe world, the typical punk rock kid who has something to say.

‘I’m on my way to Joburg city now’, bellows thefellas of local punk-rock band Swivel Foot as they introduce the song with aflute that sounds like it belonged to one of Miriam Makeba’s songs, and endtheir set with a sweet looking long-haired boy begging to play one more songoff their demo CD.

Grizzly men, skin heads, studded belts, face piercing, blue and purplehair, cleavage, leopard prints and pool tables. Yes, I’m home again. Mypunk-rock family is all around me.

The Mean Streets bring Joburg city street punk alive. With a heavy influenceby Rancid, they seem to pull the crowd in with provocative behaviour and a‘fuck you’ attitude. Edwin van Straten is best known for his member below,while Sarel’s top doesn’t exist. Tonight they arrive with full-forced energyand partying ethics.

After many encounters in the skank pit with this band, I am constantlyamused by their performance on stage and their musical ability to get the crowdgoing.

The organiser of the event Jadd Steinhard, together with Craig Hart andMark McEneaney make up Profitless Punks. Their intention is to reignite theflame of punk, and that is exactly what they did on Saturday night. With anentrance less than a box of cigarettes with an aim to fund beer for all of us,the night belonged to punk.

In an effort to understand his activity and feed my intrigue in theprocess of gathering a bunch of bands to play for free, Jadd managed to givehis own answers into what the event stood for and why these punk bandssupported it.

Can you give me some details about the punk scene in South Africa, andwhy it has been lacking so much that the bands had to play for free?

Well it’s not that the scene was lacking so much, as us just trying toget the attitude back into the local punk kids simply having fun and gettingtogether for a good cause. Over the years the scene has had their ups anddowns, as they all do. It seems all the favourite bands died round about thesame time (a lot have returned).

Since then we have been trying to get the punk scene back to that ragingunit of solidarity for a while now, and we just thought ‘hey why not just getthe old bands and some new ones back to the idea of playing for the love ofmusic and a couple of free beers.’

Our scene kind of fell into the trap of money which became an importantissue and we forgot why the show was happening and for whom we were playingfor. I believe this is a fault of the promoters”, as well as the bandsthemselves. The Profitless Punks have a lot to say.

There is no full blame, the whole scene is not black and white, andthere are a lot of in-between grey areas. Bands put in a lot of effort to betight and progressive and the promoters are doing the work of getting thevenues and bands together. They are taking the risk of paying for sound andlighting, so everyone wants a piece of the pie so to speak. It is unfortunatethat it definitely isn’t about the cause anymore... And that what we as TheProfitless Punks are going to change.

We approached the bands we wanted to perform and we explained what ourplans are and why we were doing such a show. We basically all had the samemindset about it and we were all amped. So yeah, the money factor played norole here, beside for sound and beer for the people who attended.

Gross Misconduct, Miseld and Swivel Foot are Veterans of the SA PunkScene and it’s pretty awesome that they are still around all these years. Shotsfired carry the same outlook on life and music that the old bands held- playingfor fun and a good time. Pistol Whip 45 are pretty new but are the firstpsychobilly band in South Africa which is an offshoot of punk rock. TheSpitting nuns are good fun and bring lots of laughs. So yeah, it was a diverseselection of bands, ranging from melodic to hardcore to acoustic. The show hada bit of something for everyone.

Why did Vendetta Cartel pull out?

One of the members had prior commitments. They will be joining next timearound.

Why does punk appeal to you?

As far as I’m concerned punk rock is the most energetic and thoughtprovoking genre of music that is out there. Everyone can learn from this genre.The majorities of punk pioneers have something to say and are not worried aboutwhat the music industry wanted or has to say about them. It has provided aplatform for many other genres of music that never would have occurred if ithadn’t been for the punk pioneers taking those first steps and spitting in theeye of the ‘man’. Today it has progressed and extended into so many differenttypes of punk rock.

Whether you are a skater, surfer type, some sort of vegan or a rebelliouskid who wants to ‘stick it’ to every human being alive, punk caters to humanbeings who are craving to be real. Even if you just have something to say thatis uplifting and positive, punk rock gives you a niche that you can expel yourpassion into.

Joburg has a range of venues to play gigs at. Cape Town only has one itseems- Gandalf’s in observatory. Why are you guys not making a big enough noisehere in the Cape? We need the voice and chaos to stir some shit up here.

Did these bands offer to play or did you ask them? If so, then why thesespecific punk bands? What do you think they offer the scene and how do theyrepresent the genre?

Funny you should say that. It seems Johannesburg has always taken itsscene more seriously than our Capetonian counterparts. We have promoters in Jhbthat will always pay the bill of bringing up Capetonian bands, but that muchcan’t be said from the Capetonian point. If a band is coming down from Jhb,chances are they are paying their own way to get there. If it's a Capetonianband, the chances are the Jhb promoters are fitting the bill. Maybe thepromoters down there just like staring at the mountain rather than trying tojoin the scenes together to make it a powerful and effective unit of likemindedpeople.

Venues are not the issue. If you want a gig, you can make it happen.We’ve had shows in parking lots and in backyards of peoples houses… Anything toget the show done and the bands more exposed and experienced by the youth. Ifyou look, you can find venues. Once the scene grows more venues will want bandsto play. Like everything, they think with their pockets. If the people come outto support, the venue will open its doors. We need the Capetonians to help usout, and to give off the exact same attitude that we have here in Joburg.Therefore we can work as one, unite and have South Africa's entire punk sceneskating the same ramp.

When can we expect a tour or collection of punk gigs coming this way?

We are itching to get down to Cape Town, and fuck things up. It’s just acase of making it happen from both parts of the JHB and CPT crew. We hope towork together with the same frame of mind.

Have u been to Cape Town before? If so, what would you say to the peoplehere?

Yes, we have all been to Cape Town. If you guys feel that there issomething lacking in your scene, and you want to make it bigger andprogressive- then do something about it! Take that first step! Make it happen!And if it all falls apart, get up and do it again! This is only if you reallywant it that bad. One person can change the world if not just a strip ofcoastline hahaha. We all WANT it here in Jhb, Cape Town just needs the samemindset on the punk rock front.

Do you read one small seed magazine?

I haven’t seen it yet. But I will defiantly look it up and see what it'sall about. One thing the punk scene in Jozi doesn’t have anymore is a cool‘scene’ magazine, but in time hopefully we will again.

Thanks Jadd.

No worries.

Rape and Raped again: A Personal Story of Injustice

2011-11-01T01:23:00.000-07:00

Benjamin Boateng

Rape,for many South Africans, is a horrific ordeal with perpetrators seldom caught.Mine was, but he got off Scott-free thanks to diplomaticimmunity.

Thanks to his lack of morals or respect for woman, this man shall get justice too. A few months ago, the media revealed he had raped again. This time- he has not been lucky enough to be let off. He faces life imprisonment. And for that, I thank the government. South Africa was not able to make a case of him, but what did I expect?

His arrogance and grin will not defy another woman again. He will not think he can act invincible anymore. He will have to think about his behaviour and the consequences they have.

Not one or two vulnerable woman were sexually assaulted by this boy. There were more, I can be certain. We spoke up though. We confronted it.

This is my memory. The one that hurts, but must be read.

I hope this changes your mind about being quiet.

Awakening my Immortality

Betweenbeing stuck in a world of compliments and promiscuity and a certainty of moralsand independence, I entered into an evening that awoke my immortality.

Clothedlike a lady, I question what attracted the man to me. It was a black dress wornover my knees, covering my cleavage, with a pair of stilettos I reserved forNew Year’s Eve.

Beforethe act kept me up all night, I admit to kissing over a dozen boys as thecountdown began.

British Accent

Inmy vague remembrance the appeal and sound of the British accent brought mecloser to a table of boys drinking champagne. My stomach had no food to beginwith, which was substituted by many rounds of cocktails and tequila shots.

Freealcohol puts a smile on my face as do foreigners, so I eagerly invited myselfonto the red velvet couch the boys occupied. As the intoxication loosened mymind and body, and as each second passed, my awareness was blinded at theperipherals.

Controlled by Alcohol

Adozen boys were obviously not enough for me, so I tried my charm with the boyswith collared shirts, overflowing bottles of bubbly and new jargon. Instead ofmy attempt to be in control, the alcohol controlled me. I immersed myself ontothe couch and closed my eyes to find my breath again.

Theseboys were not gentleman. They were far from it. As their hands reached my body,I sensed a slight incline to help me get up and out the environment I wasunsettled by. I was wrong. Their hands all had fingers and nearly fifteen ofthem crept underneath my favourite pair of knickers and juiced me up with rawforce and communal chances of entertaining themselves.

Ihad no power. My body was numb and refused to lift itself from the restingplace I fell into earlier. After counting how many breaths I had taken, myvoice came alive and I raised it so their active phalanges would stray from myprivate space.

Sliced Foot

Theambience of the evening was shattered again when my bare foot was swollen andthe colour of the couch. A slice of my ankle was eaten into by a broken glass Iwas unaware of. Liquid was flowing everywhere from my flesh, and none of myfriends were around to guide me to safety or provide some form of support.

Ilooked to the right and saw strangers. I glanced to the left and felt thepresence of foreigners. I was alone in the wrong state of mind with bloodoozing from my body, I felt more hopeless. My eyes floated from one side of theroom to the other and finally caught the attention of a friend who had beensearching for me.

The Need to Get Away

Ineeded to get sober. I needed my foot cleaned and patched up. I needed to getaway from these boys who were taking advantage of me.

Astwo of my friends completed the rescue mission by obtaining a bucket of ice anda glass of water, I knew the night would come to a halt. But I was mistaken asa kind, charming gentleman offered his help and transport. He mentioned he hada limousine waiting outdoors that I could lie in, but my friends had no trustin the offer. His identity was unknown, but introduced as Ben. He seemed decentenough, but what could I decipher in my state.

Myclosest friend took control and warned the boy to stay away. She would ratherhave him come in a taxi with her and her boyfriend. The idea was to find foodafter the long evening of abusing alcohol. Ben left his gang of ‘Brits’ andjoined us to search for an area that provided some treats.

Chaos in Every Corner

Hekissed me in the taxi. I do not recall if I was enjoying myself or was simplytoo intoxicated to not care.

Thefour of us arrived in town and headed for Long Street where chaos went down inevery corner. The restaurant we sought was not open, so we opted for a hotdogstand. Ben took me away from the crowds and my friends to a corner I was notfamiliar with. It was dark and noisy and I couldn’t reach my cell phone.

A Squeak of Noise

Heheld it away from me while I used my hands to pull it from his grip. He liftedmy dress I had intentionally worn in an appropriate manner and pushed meagainst the cold hard wall. Shock settled in as he penetrated me without mypermission.

Mysilence broke as I yelled ‘no’, but my yell was a squeak of noise compared tothe abundance surrounding us on a New Year’s celebration. It hurt as he forcedhimself into me and I was not strong enough to push him away.

Cry Wolf

Ashe finished, blurred visions appeared all over my retina. I was scared andvulnerable and wanted to find safety. I found my friend and mouthed a desperate‘help me’, but she paid no attention as she assumed it was a ‘cry wolf’situation I had entered in my boozed-up behaviour.

Sheignored me, deciding to make a mission to watch the sunrise on the beach. As Iwas going with the flow, I realised my phone had been misplaced. I had no wayof finding other people I knew and followed them in order to get away from thesituation that had just been placed on me without my consent.

The Decent Guy

Bendecided to join us while he charmed my friends into thinking he was the decentguy we assumed him to be at the beginning of the evening. I had no idea how todeal with what happened, so thought that as long as the beach idea washappening, I knew I would go home soon after the sun came up.

Hedid it again and this time I cried while yelling at him to stop. He held myhands to the sand and took complete control of me. The beach was full and notone person paid any attention to what was happening. The pain was intense andmy insides were being scratched by the granules that didn’t belong in my sacredspace.

Unwilling Participant

Iused all my strength and pushed him off me and ran to another part up thebeach. He followed, making sure he manipulated my thinking by blaming my tearson the loss of my mobile and not what had happened.

Whenmy friend and I arrived back at the holiday home she went to sleep at herboyfriend. I was alone. I had been sexually assaulted. I was in physical pain.

Aftera few hours sleep I came to consciousness with a raw throbbing inside me, bothphysically and emotionally. I washed the evidence from me, not knowing it wasthe wrong thing to do after a rape.

Fragile and Lost

Isat with my fellow housemates and we began discussing the details of theprevious evening. I wanted to join in the fun of sharing stories, but I wasfragile and lost; sensitive and emotional. I knew I needed help. I informed thegirls of what had occurred to me a few hours earlier and they gasped withshock.

Asa unit we decided to find a taxi and visit a local hospital. There I searchedfor a lady nurse to confide in behind a blue curtain and she advised I visit apolice station.

Exposed and Dirty

Feelingafraid of life, I waited for an officer to see me. I spent an entire dayreliving the trauma by writing statement after statement. I felt exposed anddirty.

Afterhours passed, the next step was to take my body to a government hospital. I wasgreeted by dying patients lying in the hallways and a pungent smell of diseaseand illness.

Ifaded into the hallways wishing a fate on myself that these people had notwanted for themselves. I couldn’t deal with it and I wanted this nightmare tobe washed away.

Support System

Iwas cautious of my surroundings. I had been presented a support system of acouncillor. She was large, blonde and full of warmth. The curtain I hid behindwas dull and scrappy. The doctor took his time in giving me the attention Ineeded. I waited patiently with tears that I had carried through the entireday. This process was not over yet.

Assome tool entered my private parts, I squealed in pain while squeezing theblonde’s hand. There were three of them in front of me – the doctor, the nurseand the blond. I felt sick and wanted to escape, but I was stuck in thatmoment.

Thetrauma was inside me. I could feel it and the evidence was right in front ofthem. There was not much they could do but prescribe a set of pills. The firsttwo were to prevent pregnancy. The next set was unknown – antivirals used toprevent HIV.

End of the Holiday

Thefollowing week was my last of the holiday in Cape Town. I was doing everythingto enjoy myself, but the medication was so potent that I sank into a heavydepression. I had to eat in order to take them, but immediately felt nauseousand drained as food entered my body.

Iwanted to die each day I woke. My friends tried to distract me with eating outat restaurants and meeting new people, but I couldn’t focus on anything otherthan how I was going to die. I imagined living with Aids and I wanted to throwup. I had nobody to confide in and I couldn’t find the energy to put a smile onfor the public, or even myself.

Myfather believed I brought this on myself. My mother worried from herhome. My best friend felt guilty for not being present. I just wanted out.

Ben Again

Afew days after the rape, my best friend and I were walking through town. Shenudged me and told me to run off as she had seen Ben in a shop we passed. Iimmediately lost my breath and walked around in circles with nowhere to go andno idea of how to feel.

Ihad a document given by the police that if I saw the man that sexuallyassaulted me they could arrest him. I carried it everywhere I went hoping Iwould find him – and justice.

The Arrest

Whenmy friend reappeared we hid behind a hotel lobby and watched him walk off inthe other direction. Pacing up and down, a security officer and a taxi-manobserved our dramatic actions and offered to help. They called the police andexplained where we were and what was going down.

Wetold them what he looked like and what direction he was heading in. In lessthan a second we heard sirens. The police were off to make the arrest. Thefirst emotion that came upon me was guilt.

Howcould I play God and put someone in jail? He hurt me, but why should I take awayhis life? Then I knew why. I was in pain and he had caused it; for which hedeserved some form of punishment.

Diplomatic Immunity

Iwas called to the station a while after and was ushered into an office theyreserve for trauma. They shared the news with me. His name was Benjamin Boateng– the British consul’s son.

Thisentailed a hole in the rape case and the reason for his release. He haddiplomatic immunity and there was nothing I could do. He was immune to justice.He was immune to government law. He was immune to my instability.

Ihurt more than I had hurt all week, but adjusted to the futility of it all,knowing woman would probably be treated this way forever. Their voicessilenced.

Raped by the Press

Forthe next few weeks I was haunted and stalked by every local and Britishjournalist wanting to know the exact details of what happened and who I was.They found people I had not spoken to in years. They queried them about mypast, my present and my behaviour.

Theyfound me and asked questions I could not answer. I just wanted to be left aloneto start the healing process. But they wrote articles that suggested anidentity, but could not name me as I was a minor, and gave opinions of what hadhappened.

Everypiece had no truth. They made up stories and assumed different details in everyreport. It was from those days that I knew if I became a journalist I would useevery moral fibre I had to report in the most accurate, honest and factual way.

Classic Corner Headquarters: Sex Beyond the Limit

2011-10-24T02:42:00.000-07:00

Glen Bloch photography

I lust for the unknown. I have used the opposite sex as a game I entertain my loneliness with. I, like others, need to get out of my mind and only belong to what my body is capable of.

People do this by playing a role that doesn’t define their behaviour, but kept hidden for themselves to be practiced behind closed doors.

Findingthe Climax

There is a constant search for a climax in life. We live in a fast-paced society of hedonists where we are all looking for the quickest fix for pleasure. We are not sure where to find it and how to go about it. However, we know we were given functional parts to reach such climax.

The search of this climatically heightened state has nothing at all to do with the lessons life brings us. It has to do with finding different partners to increase sexual pleasure. I speak from the observer’s point of view and experiences of my own.

I watch as others enjoy what I wish to follow through with. Films don’t do justice to what real life has to offer. My first experience of witnessing different sexual behaviour was at an alternative venue that Primrose Hill is known for.

CCHQ

Its name is Classic Corner Headquarters, better known as CCHQ. Catering to a broad variety of identities, all are welcome. They believe in drag. Their best customers are proud homosexuals, and once a month they indulge in sexual foreplay and entertainment in their dungeon upstairs.

I happened to visit CCHQ on a particular night when three women and a man-boy stood behind the bars. The front woman wore a black plastic corset that made her cleavage speak to the audience. Alongside her was her human puppet attached to her by chains and a choker on his bare flesh and leathered legs. The third screamed death as she held tightto her selection of whips and spanking tools.

This practice they were about to begin isknown as BDSM which is shorthand for the three main subdivisions of the culture:

B&D (bondage and discipline),
D&S (dominance and submission) and
S&M (sadism and masochism or slave and master).

BDSM

All the women had roles in the process. The large busted woman pushed a volunteer against the wall with force. She made sure none of his limbs had mobility before setting up her tools in order of low to high pain threshold. The man before her squealed with excitement and anguish; his senses alive, and the audience can feel it. The proximity of pain versus pleasure is so tightly woven that he will reach the most unexpectedclimax.

The smaller, but more domineering, woman laid men on the bed for spankings a headmaster of yore would never have contemplated. The men let out heavy sighs and breathed with excruciating sounds, creating erections that eventually made it difficult to lie on their stomachs.

Pain& Pleasure

In the corner, the act I was most drawn to was a large series of needles that are supposed to increase the pain and pleasure stimuli simultaneously. As each needle went into a man’s exposed arm, the more I stared. His face said what I couldn’t, it was pure pleasure.

Sadists have a desire to inflict suffering and masochists want to receive suffering. The interest in domination and submission includes the fantasy of role playing. The appeal that I get watching this act helps me get out of myself and watch sex as a performance.

Getover the Guilt

What is the obsession with morbid and grotesque sexual fantasies?

It’s as if we are taking part in the juxtaposition of safety versus death. Individuals want to experience something that does not belong to them. We are able to watch it as an intrigue, without putting ourselves in danger. I am removed enough to be safe, but still removed from the process.

There is guilt for thinking or acting on these sexual fantasies, which have great consequences. These include emotional and physical damage, as well as detachment of the act of sex having any form of meaning or connection to another human being. Thus, our only intention is the climax – the orgasm that lasts for seconds, but changes how we feel about a moment.

We want to be forgiven for what we fantasise about, yet we are ashamed. I express my intrigue, but feel dirty for feeling this way.

Choke

‘We are not born evil sinners, or perfect knock-offs of God. The world tells us whether we are heroes or victims, but we can decide for ourselves,’ wrote Chuck Paluhniuk in Choke.

Contemporary films deal with sexual explorations that most people attach disgrace to. The film adaptation of Paluhniak’s novel is based on a man who is a sex addict who intentionally chokes on food in restaurants to attain the attention of a stranger who will engage with him, thus becoming his rescuer.

Chokingon Sex

His obsession with making himself choke heightens his sexual pleasure. He needs to feel deep pain in order to achieve his pleasure. I think it may be due to not having a maternal figure present as she is in a clinic with memory loss. He acts out to gain acknowledgement and is turned on by women who only want his body.

I relate to this mindset in a way of myown. I too want acknowledgement, something I can’t seem to give myself. I wanta man to look at me. I want him to rip off my clothes and touch my skin andbreathe in my ears and make me his.

I forget about what I want and fade off into something I’m not. I don’t want to belong to myself in this moment. I only wish to escape. I want him to look at me because I can’t. I can’t look, because I don’t appeal to me. I am not attracted to me. If he looks, I won’t have to.

Sex,the Universal Language

‘Sex, like music, is a universal language. We want to use it to introduce character, evoke emotion, and propel the plot,’said John Cameron Mitchell in Shortbus.

This film focuses on a sexually diverse ensemble of emotionally challenged characters trying to connect. The characters converge in an artistic/sexual salon loosely inspired by various underground NYC gatherings that took place in the early 2000s. According to Mitchell, the film attempts to ‘employ sex in new cinematic ways,’ and it includes a variety of explicit scenes of sexuality.

PlaySafe

I like to be desired and enjoy experimenting with my sexuality as long as I feel safe. What I have learned is that my safety differs to others people’s concepts of safety. If any act performed within sexual fantasies can lead to harm or death, then I don’t wantmy exit from earth to end that way.

Grown Up: Independence in a New City

2011-10-24T01:49:00.000-07:00

(28 September 2010)

Today is just like last Monday, and the Monday before, and I’m assuming the Mondayafter this. This is my first office job. I am officially a nine to fiver. A grown up in my own right.

Society tells me that being grown up is having reached the age of maturity. To be grownup means having the characteristics that is suitable for adults. An adult, you say? That is certainly not me. A girl trying to find her way, maybe, but an adult? This I can’t comprehend.

Independence

It’s been around 142 days, seven hours and 27 minutes since I declared independencefrom my comfort zone. I come from a Jewish home in what I have labelled the Jewish ghetto, also known as Glenhazel, and I never went without.

I lived with a father who was melting my confidence down and smearing it all overhis ego. We were two fire signs parading around in a large, empty (he calls it minimal) home with no eye-to-eye vision.

Both stubborn, and both aggressive when provoked, was detrimental to my sanity. From the age of 15 I knew life was beyond being labelled white trash by a father whom my rage was feeding off and constantly doubting my ability to make a life of my own.

Looking for a Challenge

I craved a life with challenges and this is exactly what was given to me - a new city, an unknown environment and a desire to write my heart out till I was noticed. Using words attached to my unhappiness, I decided it was time to move on out. I was drained by the attempt of lonely love and arguments about my future.

Instead of a hug, I was bought a plasma television. Instead of a conversation, I was kicked out onto the streets. Instead of support, I was belittled for the opportunities I wanted to explore.

Packing up

My most favoured and realest friend was leaving for Cape Town. In an impulsive effort, I packed my friend’s Aldous Huxley, Thom Woolfe, Hunter S Thompson and Haruki Marukami to come along with me for a new adventure. A pillow and my ten rand oddment clothes came as well.

Cape Town, She Calls

In the last five years, I had built up a support system and invested time in people like they were my very own children. After five years, it was time to leave. I ‘ummed and aahed’ the decision to move and slowly started making excuses to stay. My despair for leaving what I thought I had created in Joburg disappeared when my vision overtook my presence.

It was time to detach myself from the uncomfortable safety I had created, and find a happiness I explored but knew nothing about. I said goodbye to my dysfunctional family, who I would have picked over anyone, my friends from different worlds and my hometown. It was time for Cape Town. She was calling me.

Start of an Adventure

I knew that in any moment being by the ocean and the mountains would take me out of the anxiety I dwell in on a daily basis, and let myself embrace liberty.

I arrived with boxes, a bruised heart from years of futile beginnings, and sat next to my favourite person for the start of our adventure.

I had nothing but my enthusiasm attached to me, but I was ready to conquer this new life I wished to not only exist in, but live too. I wished to be with me, present and aware, so I could fulfil the concept of being grown up. To find my maturity would be a process.

Residence

This city is a whole other culture in the way it is constructed. All the locals believe you can judge your direction by the angle of the mountain. I could not even find my inner dialogue, never mind the direction. I started my stay at Penthouse backpackers in Long Street. This was by far the best way to move into a new city.

With a six storey structure, I decided to explore the area. My first night in Cape Town set the tone for my new hometown. The bar breathed for all who travelled. It was held up by Jolly the bartender, who welcomed me to his city. We interacted with foreign conversations with human folk, literature and harmonies.

A New Way of Life – An Outsider, an Observer

To believe I would make it immediately was naive. Being on your own, in a new city with no support structure and a lack of funds, is tough. As I arrived, so did the World Cup. I started a waitressing/bartending job at a quirky restaurant in Long Street – the hub of all things lively and happening. I had never waitressed before. There was never a need to. However, I had to make money and this was my plan to do it.

The managers and kitchen staff never took my mistakes gently, which I was constantly reminded of. I was good with the customers and got tips three meals a day. Pity the other waitresses weren’t huge fans. With names like Istar, Fani and Storm – Tamara in the mix wasn’t Capetonian or eccentric enough. The pride of lionesses I worked with hunted the manager down to inform him of my inability to impress them. I was told to leave and stick to my cubicle outdoors.

The Office

I stuck to the outside bar, collecting silvers and making new connections. It was my blessing and their loss. Once the hype of the World Cup brewed over, I died with it. I found a job I always thought I wanted and began inhabiting an air-conditioned office.

Mondays when I arrived in Cape Town were spent exploring my new city and networking. Back then I had my wings on. Today I sit in a space that stifles my ears and dries my eyes out.

Origin versus the Present

In the time I have been here, I have developed the most intimate relationship with Cape Town. The mountains make me blush and the sea gives my heart hiccups. I live here to be, and not just to do. My father always told me to grow up and stop being lazy.

My car was taken away – I walk everywhere. I earn no salary as of yet. I have currently just moved into my third place since I have been here. I have lost four phones. I use the Internet café to post my words through, and I am doing it all for myself. I use ‘I’ with such sincere pride.

I never thought I would be able to survive independence for this long and, yes, I am still doing it, with a heavy heart sometimes, but a continuous smile. I am using the fine details of my life and moving on to what ‘grown-up’ means to me-to be free.

I'm a first offender officer...

2011-10-19T05:30:00.000-07:00

I woke Tuesdaymorning with a plea to the universe. Humbly, I asked for an indication of wheremy life was heading. Hours later I was sitting in a police van locked up,barefoot and exposing my middle finger to my city.

The inspectorlights up a fag and tosses it to the corner of the barred vicinity. Hisarrogance is loud, mine is more stubborn.

“You have the rightto remain silent and anything you say may be recorded and may be used asevidence against you.”

“You have the rightto a lawyer. If you cannot afford one, the state will provide you with one.” Blah.blah.bullshit.I know my rights mister, I studied media law. Pfffft.

They know myidentity by now. Mr. Price’s role of manager has dutifully written herstatement without cause.

“Tamara Arden”

“Yes”

“Age?”

I shrug myshoulder. They have my date of birth. I’m sure they can figure it out.

“Hair colour?”

I point to mysynthetic pink-tinted colouring on the top of my head.

“Tattoos?”

My mouth remainsslim. Wouldn’t you like to know officer? I shake my head.

“Race? Oh right,Caucasian.”

Um. Duh.

“Where do youlive?”

The space is silentand the mood, heavy.

“Ma’am, you mustanswer these questions. You are under arrest for theft out of shop.”

My peripheralsnotice a snarl beginning. It seems I am not making a great impression.

“Alright. I willco-operate.”

His pen moves whilemy lips utter my story…

I entered Mr. Pricejust before closing time to purchase new underwear. As I make my way to thewoman’s section, my feet are distracted to a pair of shoes. I pull off myboots. They have been the pinnacle of sweat infused particles full of the day’sexplorations. Six and sevens are available. My feet fit to a five. To prove tomyself a sixer will work- I snap the buckles so tight they manage to fit. Idon’t put the boots back on. I will not walk around barefoot in a store. I willleave this quirky set of feet coverings where they belong- covering my toes andthe stench of toe jam. My intention was to pay for such articles once at thetill, along with the three pairs of knickers I purchased too. Still on my feet,I forget to remind myself to expose the barcode. I was focusing more on the‘hey, long day, isn’t it? Nearly done though,’ to change her sullen expressionto a more cheerful manner. I leave, take my slip, show the security my newbelongings and walk on out of Adderley Street. Within three steps the securitybeckons me back to check my slip. I realise why he pulls me back into thestore, apologise generously and tell him my mind went blank and willimmediately go pay for them. No chance. It’s straight to the manager to reporta thief.

Fast forward…” well,if you don’t believe me, call the cops!”

And then…statements. Fingerprints. Holding cell. Smoke. Admin. Signatures. Statements.Silence.

My boy Matt arriveswith panic in his eyes. They are sending me upstairs. I have no idea what thismeans till I get there. Until, oh yes, I’m in prison. Before they lock me up,they make sure my possessions are taken away from me.

“Take what you wantofficer, I’m keeping my pen and notebook.”

The constable,sergeant and inspector debate my attitude and resistance. The inspector gets upfrom his seat and warns me to follow instructions. I ask to see the rules inprint. He makes it clear his voice is the only law. My boy, from behind thebars reminds me to obey, something I’m not very good at. His sense is betterthan mine, so I listen. After a thorough body search in the ladies bathroom, Iam taken to my cell. Barefoot and numb from the cape wind- I am in, lock andkey.

There are two othergirls with me. They see white. They know there’s a story there. Girl A isAfrican with a bald head and an attitude. Girl B is a coloured Muslim ticaddict missing her front teeth. I am greeted with a dirty blanket, a skyf fromB and a swazi pull of the joint B just scored off her boy opposite the way inanother cell for similar crimes. A has been there since the previous eveningfor theft. B was locked up at four am for possession. Yoh. I’m in for anelongated night.

A witness tocorruption in the prison cell, and it’s only been ten minutes. Girl B whips outa wad of cash in her brown envelope hidden up her sleeve. She says she knowspeople, and by people, she means cops, and by cops, it entails it’s not herfirst time here.

The man in thepolice uniform walks in.

“Yeah lady, we have40 bucks to get a pizza, we need 26 for the balance. You want in?”

She whips out herpile of hundreds, passes it on to his hands, and there it is- done deal.

Prisoner and police officer, hand in hand.

Girl A and I just watch with stun.Is this it? The law in South Africa is what it is- dishonest, and here I amwitnessing it. We all pass out from the swaz’s high and get woken by the soundof the key turning. A brown cardboard is given over once his entrance issolidified and in it is her pizza. Two pieces go to her criminal boyfriend, andone piece shared between girl A and I. she even passes me a piece of chocolate.It looks like this is dinner for me.

Girl B cannot stopobsessing about getting jolly with tic. She says it’s waiting for her. Hercousin will arrive in the next ten minutes. He is the dealer. The officer walksin. I’m told to come down with her too. There he is my prince charming, behindthe visiting bars, bringing me food and nicotine. I look like a hobo. Heagrees. Next to me is girl B. her cousin has brought her goodies. He delicatelypasses the officer a hundred rand note and sneaks the drugs in a packet to her.This is done right in front of my eyes. Officer to drug lord. I’m sure thisseems all too familiar. Oh right, Jackie Selebi and Glenn Agliotti on trial forcorruption. The pattern needs to end.

When did thisbecome justice? What happened to the law of locking criminals up and keepingwithin the perimeters? These are not allegations. I saw this act with my ownpair of eyes. I am supposed to feel protected by the police, but that must bean uncertain expectation because South Africa sees law as a game whereby thedice could roll in favour of anyone. In other words… money talks. Scapegoat- the government. Maybe if they invested more money andregulations for their men and woman of the law, perhaps this behaviour wouldalter. However at this stage, I am currently without hope.

My one sweet worldis barely in reach.

An hour after my ‘dinner’ I am calledout on bail. My boy, yes my boy, who got my back, spoke to the captain to getmy docket to the top of the pile. White woman wants out,and white male makes it happen. The officer, lacking any kind of joy tells me Iam released. He told girl B he wanted to keep me in for longer because I wascheeky. I just don’t give a fuck about the system.

Seventies80's. That's what's good yo.

2011-10-19T01:25:00.000-07:00

While living within the vagrants of my mind Cape Town CBD took hold of me and I became one with her. I could not find what I was looking for, so approached what I thought I wanted to work for.
I found Dawie and Nabby- a pair of humans immersed in creativity and hope, and a store full of goodies.
This was my Seventies80's life. The one I found myself feel inspired in.

After three visits, a Love and Jazz Friday evening, and a smoking session with Dawie in upper Bo-Kaap- I knew I had found new air. I began managing the place and everyday was a new day for a new character. Oh how I love strangers and their stories...

This is their home, and (was) mine for a while..

Seventies80's. That's what's good yo.

Skirt, top and scarf by Des Mopai

Where’s your story? I know mine. Creative spaces. It’s allabout time. To be alive. To be awake. It might appeal to your senses if youwake and bake. Bake a cookie. Maybe some bread. Or come through to seventies80s and you might just get fed. Body vessels, but soul feels full too. Lunchspecials are due to be sorted from noon till three. If your stomach ain’tempty, try the happy tea.

Friday starts early when you knock off work. Love and jazzfills the space like our hearts do with the smell of cupcakes. Your smile sitswith you as different personalities fill the room. This is your home for anhour or an era. For the town ‘peeps’ who use Fridays as an excuse to lose theirface politely, do it before hand, with us, a glass of red or white and a liveperformance. It’s the before party that pre-drinks deserve- or the session thatthe end of the week needs to feel again. A six pack of yours or a bottle pairedwith mix. It’s your choice to bring what you wish. Our glasses are ours, but weare more than willing to share.

Sunday church street lunches, that’s the deal. Don’t leave what’s left of your weekend in this beautiful city. Grab your sunnies and sneakers and walk over to what we breathe to be done. Yes, the Seventies 80s Sabbath in our way. Jesus would want you to wear your best Sunday dress. If it’s not from your closet, our rails bring more. Fuck the fancy salad. Empty your fridge out before Mondays expiry date arrives.

Bring that spud and corn and a genuine smile too. Let’s combine stories. Come make some more.

Dress from Seventies80s

Love and Jazz introduces “Rhythm and Poetry”

Here I am sitting with two faces that aren’t mine. Why do Ifeel the need for rhythm and rhyme? I am free filling like the occupancy of themind to be mine. I need to do myself a favour and focus without time. Time tobe spaced. An ounce of capacity. Peter pan would have been proud, especiallywith my adaptability.

A friend of mine has a voice that the strings never hear. Iwas promised a vocal tuned ear, but instead she felt fear. Fear of the unknown,of the response people had. I even jotted some syllables down, even though theywere bad.

(For Ruth Rom) “Her living colour works with inadequaciesand ideals. Her friends might see her, they know it is real. The nine to fiveis something to act and improve. When her art degree had finished, she chose tomove. There are fast paced minutes and short lived moments in time. You are ‘theme,’ especially when I say I’m fine. She shudders with the pause, the feel, themood in this underground. If she says something special, she might just befound. Found in the nothingness and the success too. If she is played once fora fool, the next times on you. Don’t feel my words rap the tone I present.These vowels were last minute, so please don’t resent. I think it’s time to betrue, so true. Rather I escape from this microphone and let it be you.”

An introduction I suppose is something to capture peopleinside. This is exactly the platform Love and Jazz at Seventies Eighties hasintroduced in the last couple of weeks. There has been a transformation of beatand lyrics, tone and energy too. What has started out as an in-between preparty to an end of evening night cap has evolved into a daring podium oftalent, lyrical content, collaborative content and explorations in local musicality.

Boys and men fill the space of lyrical roots. Ladies andgentleman, I suppose we deliver these individuals, and ‘Que Sera’ to whateverwill be. Their words confiscate our hearing and add to our complexity. Welisten with hope of change and possibility. People approach us and want toperform. Their vulnerability stares us in the face, just like their ears dowhile buzzing off the adrenalin off the feedback of applause or clicks.

Our aim is to give back what we are given daily fromindividuals. One conversation leads to one contact, one hug and one liveperformance. The deal is simple. Bringing liquids requires a corkage fee ofthirty rand, or instead pull out your ‘tenners’ as each glass of wine isbought. Cover charge exists at a mere twenty rand, but bring extra cash asretro/vintage and local designers occupy fashion rails to sell. Our support forthem is as important for your support for yourself. Allow Cape Town to lead anew trend- the one with humility and lack of superficial nonsense. Here, it isnot about how you appear, but who you are... provided you slap on a tutu orbowtie as the creative director Dawie brings his bling and mink to the space.The best dressed couple wins a bottle of wine for effort. Think Motown meetsHarlem Streets and coloured kicks your feet stink out. people need an excuse todress up, and we have just given it... Love and Jazz.

You can find us at 89 Church Street- the in-between area oftown and Bo Kaap. The evening starts around six and closes just after the clockstrikes twelve. Come show support for local musical talent. Who knows, youmight be inspired.

So, is this Bill on or off?

2011-10-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

The Secrecy Bill has officially been delayed. So what now?

After wrestling with this page for several weeks trying to write a follow up to the secrecy bill, I realised there was a deeper issue on hand – the public’s interest.

Let us begin with what is in the interest of the public? Let’s rationalise this like the humans we are. According to the dictionary, public interest means “the peoples general welfare and wellbeing; something in which the populace as a whole has a stake.” Blah blah blah, bullshit!

South Africa could very possibly have a whole new definition for public interest. When it comes to the secrecy bill, we need to question the interest of the public, and we need to know whether the public concerns the government or the media.

I’m not certain as to where the direction of this bill was heading or what the outcome of protesting would be, but it was something I believed in, something worth fighting for and now after all the effort – they delay it. Does the ANC fear the opposition of the media? Are they threatened by our voices? They cannot pretend to hide anymore. We seek information on how the country is being run. I am sure there will be consequences to implementing the secrecy bill into an act.

Is the government protecting themselves from information leading to the public? I am certain that I will query my way through this till I find an answer.

The bigger question in theory is what do the government want to be protected from? They are running an operation that the majority of people are not supporting. As a citizen, I want to know what the government is up to. Simply, I have the right to know.

I have no answers, just patience at this moment. The entire concept behind this bill was to keep some kind of boundary between leaking information to the public. However, as citizens of a country, we fight for the right to know not just because we are curious or need the power of information. We fight because it is necessary, because we are intelligent, because we are human. We cannot adopt new legislation if there is no reasoning behind it. The result will be riots. Full blown, out of control South African revolt and I don’t think I am up for any more chaos than what already exists. I crave more knowledge, not less.

The bill stipulates that jail sentences of up to 15 years will be handed to anyone who possesses information relating in anyway to any aspect of the security services. It also proposes jail sentences of as long as 25 years for anyone accessing classified information. Now come on, are they being serious? For possession of information? People are so passionate about leading a new direction, a way forward in South Africa, but what vast change has really occurred? People are still starving on the streets, xenophobia still exists and our government is being ruled with corruption and ignorance. Let us leave Apartheid behind. Let us leave dictatorship with the past. I don’t know about you, but I want to move on. The only way to do that now is to liberate us with information, not hiding it. People want to understand what is going on around, in front and ahead of them. We cannot do that with restrictions that use guidelines for our safety. We are safer knowing more. We cannot find the resolve for anything, but we can be aware of what is going on to prepare ourselves.

All in all – I matter, and I will fight this bill. I don’t want it delayed; I want it to be rid of it. I am human, a citizen of South Africa and I believe before anything else, a writer to my core. I don’t own a fancy car, an unnecessary 12-bedroomed, 7-bathroomed, four storied house and am certainly not corrupt in any aspect. (Allegations aware).I want to be and feel integrity and that is power alone. I am not threatened by the ANC and their lack of awareness in a developing country.

I am writer, read my words.

My first interview: Eyes like Mirrors

2011-10-17T07:53:00.000-07:00

Define post-rock to the people who have no idea what this genre is about?

Jason:Using rock instruments for non-conformist reasons. If you find a normalstructured song, then it is used it in a more mellowed out way. It is verydrawn out and conveys emotion.

What sets you apart from the other bands in SA?

Jason:We are instrumental. I guess it’s just the post-rock thing too. We are one offew post-rock bands in SA. When we go out and hear all these bands, it soundslike you are hearing the same song over and over.

Shannon: We are more experimental.

Jason:Every song is different and is not always the same style.

Does your band name have any relevance/significance to a certain pair of eyes?

Shannon: (Laughs) the government, and law andorder. Its pretty much reflecting what we see. The war, what they tell us, andwhat we are expected to be. People need to open their eyes more.

People are stuck in what everyone else says. They need to figure it out andeducate themselves.

Doyou have a personal stance on what going on in SA?

Jason:We don’t really watch the news because they put what they want on the news tomake people believe something, so it’s pointless. They have got to figure itout themselves and open their eyes more.

What other genres of music appeal to you?

Shannon: We listen to genres such asmath-rock (technical stop-start methods, strange timing), experimental, ambientand technical.

Whendid you start listening to different sounds?

Shannon: It started in layers. First it wasIndie, then post-rock and then we found a math-rock band followed byexperimental stuff.

Matthew:It started with ‘Explosions in the Sky” and lead us onto other bands.

Shannon bought me the CD.

Shannon: He found out from somebody that they werereally cool. It was amazing and opened up a new world for me. Post-rock has abig community.

Howwould we increase the post-rock scene in SA?

Jason:With the use of internet and MySpace.

Shannon: There aren’t that many post-rockbands anyway. Post-rock only became a genre in 1991, so it’s still very new. Itwas called instrumental/experimental music before.

What sound would you experiment with in another project?

Shannon: We have two/three side projects, whichis basic ambient stuff. It’s almost the same, well very familiar. There are alot of changes. Its way more experimental and trance-like and will get you in adaze.

Has the direction of the sound changed since the first band practice to the first gig to now?

Shannon: Yes. From Black Ambience, which weremetal post-rock and now its ambient post-rock.

Jason:It started out as just us. Jason was on drums, Matthew played sharp and Iplayed bass. That was when we were playing 'Indie' stuff. They we got Jason DeMonte and it became Black Ambience. Then it was two guitars and it became likemath-rock and now its pure post-rock.

Doyou all play several instruments?

Shannon: Yeah, kind of, well not really. Alot of our other stuff involves programming and computer stuff.

Jason:Sometimes we do help each other out. I will make up guitar for something andthink of a drum beat already.

What stage would be your ultimate platform to perform on?

Jason:The top of a mountain,

Shannon: or somewhere with walking room. Everywherewe go, we can’t do much. Cool Runnings in Melville has a stage as big as thiscouch. (Could fit three people on uncomfortably)

Whydon’t the sound guys cater to the band?

Shannon: I don’t know. It’s almost as if it’sa chore, but it’s their job. They always get angry.

Matthew:We ask them for a plug and they like “oh God.”

Jason:People are taking courses through books. They get a book from a shop, read it,go to a place and tell them they’re a sound engineer and the people are like‘cool, well hire you.’ That’s pretty much what it seems like.

Wouldyou be able to find someone to work just with you?

Jason:Well, we are hoping to.

Shannon: Someone, who can always be at our shows,

Matthew:The guys Varnie and Jordan from Post-Office Productions do sound hiring andeverything involved with studio work. Although they wouldn’t be reliable asthey stuck in party mode.

What do you want your music to promote to people?

Jason:Truth and power of knowledge. Get out there and look for yourself. Stopbelieving the first thing you hear.

Whatwould your personal definition of truth be then?

Shannon: Truth for yourself. It’s like allthose questions you have asked yourself.

Jason:If you have something on your mind, then you research it.

Itmeans facing yourself, people, the environment and government.

Peoplecan’t take honesty, so how would you promote that?

Jason:By using disturbing things in our music, like samples that stun people intogoing “oh shit,” we must look that up.

Shannon: We have used one or two things from the movieZeitgeist, but want to use a lot more. I think everyone should watch thatmovie- it has truth and essentially full of religion and how religion leads tocontrol.

Would you describe your music as an ‘original sound’ or an ‘aspired sound’?

Shannon: Both. It’s very original, especiallyin

South Africa

,not overseas.

Jason:We are influenced by a lot of bands we like. It’s not like there’s a solidinfluence, but the introduction will sound like a combination of four bandsmixed.

Can you share the experience of your first gig?( audience, venue, enthusiasm levels)

Jason:It was loud. The sound was shocking and we couldn’t hear much. The crowd waspretty cool. They could have been more people around I guess. Some peopleactually even knew that sample from Zeitgeist as we heard them screaming it.

Do you have the same set list for each performance?

Whenwe practise, we will go through the songs briefly and will always see what songsounds better to begin with, and end the songs with the most hectic ending. Areally fast song will end with a slow song. The audience doesn’t have to be allhigh; they can just chill a bit.

How often does the band practice?

Matthew:Every week-twice a week.

Shannon: Fridays and Sundays if we are lucky.

Can you share the details of an average band practice?

Shannon: We basically start of with songsthat we know the most or if we really feeling a song. Then we move on to theones that we need to work on. Towards the end of practise, we probably just jamthe new stuff.

What does each member bring to the band?

Jason:Well, Shannon brings the bass, I bring theguitar, and matt brings the style. (He says with a great smile on his face) Iguess its all equal.

Doyou have any visions for the band?

Jason:We define the music as really beautiful and powerful. Its loud to a point whereit doesn’t sound contrived, not loud to listen, but more appreciated. The musichas emotion and we play with aptitude.

Howwould your fans describe your music?

Shannon: ‘That was amazing.’ “That was loud.’“Powerful.”

Wewant to make our music not just for anyone, but for a specific person. If weplay a show, we want to play for a happier crowd of people who reallyappreciate it, not just clap. ‘Stones’ was quite a cool show, but the crowdwasn’t right. It was a bunch of jocks. We need people to feel the music.

Your previous band ‘black Ambience’ was also instrumental. Is there a reason you stay away from vocals?

Shannon: We express ourselves moreinstrumentally.

Jason:Music is more powerful without lyrics. Singing these days is always stemmed offfrom someone else’s style.

How would you describe your music to a deaf person using images and metaphors?

Jasonand Shannon: Landscapes, sunsets, trees, autumn leaves blowing around in thepark, giant ocean views, waves crashing, explosions in the sky, images of bombs,George Bush pictures and anything that resembles the beautiful nature.

Your greatest influences?

Matthew:Explosions in the Sky, Casbian and Mono.

Bands you most admire in SA?

Isochronous,Kid of Doom, Us Kids Know, Tale of the Son and Albino Beach.

Canyou see collaborations in the future with these bands?

Shannon: We were supposed to do one with UsKids Know. It’s still apparently going to happen.

Who would be the most inspiring band to share a stage with?

Jason:Probably Mono, every person watching is crying and standing with their eyesclosed. Not one person is talking.

Creativity is shared through the arts, drama, film, poetry and literature. Why did you choose music to release your creativity?

Shannon: It was the only thing we felt strongabout.

Jason:It started with music before we got to this level of awareness.

Howold were you when you played your first instrument?

Matthew:I was 10. I played the violin but gave it up because I was young and wasn’tthinking. I played for like a month. I regret it so bad. I wish I could pick itup again, but don’t have the money. We really need a violin player, but wedon’t want anymore band members.

How did the three of you meet?

Matthew:We all met each other through skating.

What is your favourite song to play as a band?

Jason:We enjoy playing our newest song which has no name yet. Our connection to it isvibrant and happy.

Matt:usually I play the same thing over and over again because I’m not that good atdrums, but this song I actually do stuff. I have variations.

What do you think is the most thriving genre in SA music?

Matthew:Indie and metal. Tempos is always metal, metal, metal, whether its death metalor anything. It’s like wherever you go these days is like one big song. Theyall sound the same to me.

Jason:It’s almost like an ambient drone.

Do you think the SA scene is lacking anything?

Jason:People stick to what they know. The places they build don’t fund bandsproperly. They need to make bigger stages and sort out the sound. Every placelooks the same.

Shannon:Carfax is good, but they throw it outto jocks all the time when they could be having really cool shows there.

What bands would you like to see play more often?

UsKids Know and Kid of Doom.

One year'aversary for Mat+Tam

2011-10-12T06:03:00.000-07:00

So after entering every competition every brand was offering, Mat finally won 5 tickets to Rocking the Daisies 2011 where we shared our one year'aversary where we met and fell into, on top and around each other.

This was the post my dearest gave to facebook. It made me and a few other people smile.

So, I would absolutely love to win Rocking the Daisies tickets because at Rocking the Daisies last year I met Tamara Arden the girl who completes me. She had lost her friends, phone and shoes. I lent her my jersey and adopted her for the evening and we became lovers from the get go. A year has passed and we've been living together for four months now and moved to jo'burg three weeks ago. All we want to do is celebrate our one year anniversary at the place it all began and feel the magic of Rocking the Daisies light us up but unfortunately the move cost us a lot and all our money is going to rent next month- Which is why winning these tickets would make our world smile. I'd do anything to get us there.

This is my side of the story. well, at least the beginning of it. I love us, and so did over 200 strangers and friends too.

Matthew Doran Sturgess- my love, my friend, my lesson, my somebody

“Please adopt me, Iam lost,” says I, in a playsuit and a juice bottle full of ‘papsag.’ “I havelost my friends and my phone.” I look at the silhouettes of the men in front ofme. I can’t see their faces, but their voices seem cool enough to hang aroundwith till I find the better part of myself. Adapted to festival Tam, I begin mysolo mission with two strangers. The taller one Alex is kind of cute it seems.I think it’s because he is tall because I can hardly make out what he lookslike. Matthew walks next to him and I can see the shadow of his long hair. Hewalks beside me while Alex turns his head towards us to encourage us to pick upthe pace. We get back to his campsite. I don’t remember details at all.

I sit on his lap in the camping chair he has resided himselfin to sip on some spirits (the reason for the visit to the campsite) andgesture the crowd surrounding me how grateful I was to my rescuer. Then... asnog, then a hand in hand trip to his tent, and then shag. Gosh. Festival sex. The'what not to do list' every girl should have in her pocket when Rocking theDaisies. People have been in the dirt all day. Men and woman’s genitalia aresweat infused and hormonal. Names are never remembered and the next morningwalk of shame hurts the hangover intensely.

It was different this time. Maybe due to the string ofcondoms Matthew pulled out or the fact that I just wanted to pass out fromample consummation of liquor the evening brought me and had no real tent to goback to anyway. Either way- we woke up in the morning to the splatter of therain and round three of his condom container. Present and aware, we connectedlike two strangers never do. With intimacy and intensity, this round wasn’tlike the night before. It was real. It was inspiring. It was staring at me inmy eyes. We lay looking at each other uttering random sentences every minute orso. Then reality hit me. I had gone missing. I needed to find my phone I hadlost the previous day and find transport home. As I pulled up my play suit andexchanged small talk, I started skipping off outdoors barefoot and cold. Iwaved goodbye and made the escape before his friends commented.

Festival sex never really goes anywhere. It’s almost anunwritten rule people acknowledge before they set feet on tent terrain. In mycase, I would like to call our experience an exception. As soon as I made myway to a computer, he had added me as a contact on what the 21^stcentury has coined as a digital platform for stalking, ahem, I mean networkingpeople. Yes, the modern day Shakespeare version of communication called Facebook. While I was checking myemails, I was simultaneously texting a mutual friend of ours to find his numberto contact him. He had made an impression, in our comfortable silence thatmorning and I needed to see him again.

I asked him to come over the next evening for an adventureand see if the connection wasn’t purely sexual. Neither of us had transport inCape Town, but he made a plan to get to town to see me. I was intrigued. He mettwo of my flat mates and joined in on a smoking session while listening to themelodic harmonies of James Maynard Keenan. Our hands lay next to one anotherboth attempting to be closer as each song continued. When we held hands, I knewsomething would come of this new romance. A boy who wants to hold my hand? Itis unheard of in this day and age. We didn’t swop much words. There were moreeye glances and deep sighs more than any communication, but gestures are all weneeded. Seeing that the couch was my bed, we waited for each flat mate toreturn to their rooms as we anticipated the intimacy our eyes had alreadyshared and bodies craved too. We made sweet passionate love that night, and thenext morning, and if I am not mistaken that afternoon too.

Our second date was due for the upcoming weekend. Now, nothaving a vehicle in Cape Town isn’t something to complain about until you needto get somewhere. I always need to get somewhere though, as I am an explorer ofmy new city and my mission; to discover it. For the first four months in CapeTown, I chose locations for my abode to be central. This was my existence.Living in the city hub was all I needed, or at least I assumed so. This wasuntil I met a boy who did not live in the city. I immediately thought it wouldnever work. He had no transport, and, well, my feet could only travel forcertain (limited) distances. He suggested a beach day in Muizenberg. I proposedhow? He mentions the word train. Yikes. I had become an avid supporter of thefive rand taxi mess in the city. I knew at any moment the driver/ call-out boycombination will take me closest to my destination, but the train... how wouldthat work?

It was foreign to me. It was new too. It was also somethingI had been putting off since I arrived here. Why not? The aforementioned perksof staying in the city bowl were that I knew how to get to my usual places. WhatI didn’t acknowledge was that the train station was literally a hop and a jumpfrom my flatted residence. Well, at least a three point turn off feet until Isaw a castle and the military men.

Ticket sales were my first task. I chose to take my firsttrain ride on a Saturday. Not my best idea yet, as everyone is taking a trainon this day. As I walked into the train station, the synthetic lightingreflected off the tiled floor. All I saw were pairs of shoes jittering aroundto get to their destination. To the left of me were boxes with people caged inasking for money. To the right were platform numbers, and in front of me- adigital board including details of locations, times and platforms. I becameanxious of the unknown rather quickly. After waiting in a queue, probably oneof my top pet peeves on my growing list, I eventually stepped forward to thesullen mama behind the booth. “Where to?” she asks. I had to think about it fora moment. Do I go to Mowbray first to meet the fellow or do I purchase a oneway ticket to Muizenberg to delay complications? Fuck. I can hear the peoplebehind me tap their feet in echoes. I decide on Mowbray. The boy knows thetrain system better than I do.

Once I had decided on my destination, the next question waspresented to me. first or third class? Huh? What happened to second class andwhat’s the difference between the classes? Where is it safer? Will I be able tosit? What’s the difference in prices? I’m confused. The people behind me arelosing their patience with the new train goer. The metro plus is seven rand.The normal metro is five rand. You evil Grinch, you just made it tougher. Iwent with the seven rand option, it must be first class. She prints my ticketand I head on out. The people in the line have witnessed my clueless behaviourand after several snarls and sighs, they point me in the direction I shouldfollow. My next step is to find the time and platform details. I ask the manbehind the desk. He flips open his file leads his fingers toward afternoondepartures and shares the information with me. I look for the big five on theright and show my ticket to the uninterested woman doing checks. I am ready.With a ding dong and a recorded bellow from the speakers informing people thetrain is leaving. I bark at the first stranger asking if it’s the right trainand he pulls me on board. People look at the white woman in the pretty frock. Isit down on my seven rand couch and breathe in the train air. It smells likethe streets, but with the wind blowing at it. I have just lost my trainvirginity. Yes.

As I stepped off the train in Mowbray and walked towards thestairs, there he stood with long hair blowing in front of his face, a goofysmile and a set of earphones worn around his neck. We approach the ticketoffice to get return tickets to Muizenberg and wait in the shade for the trainto come. Polite pleasantries were shared. Eyes were once again locked in. Thetrain arrives. We find a couch like surface to embrace hands on, and then myexcitement becomes real. I see a husky coloured teenager slapping graffiti allover the train surfaces. What she is branding, I am not sure, but ask her toborrow the marker. I pace about three steps in front of me and mark my newadventure.

Two stick figures. Mat and tam. Tam and mat. The beginning of something beautiful.

The next minute we are on the beach. I’m sharing my life and words with him. Hehardly has a space to open his mouth. Through shared cigarettes and a minibottle of liqueur, we begin our romance. He turns to me with eyes as large asmy heart’s palpitations and asks the impending doom question. “Tamara Arden,will you be my girlfriend?” After quite a long pause and a rush of anxiety tomy nervous system, I answer with a yes, thinking it will only last a month orso- they usually do. I panic. Well at least my heart does. It hurts when Ibreathe in. It hurts even more when I breathe out. I remember this feeling.Panic attack time. I walk over to ocean and let the cold numbing sensation onmy feet take over my emotion. I’m trying to persuade my mind to calm down. It’sjust a relationship. I’m just going to be someone’s girlfriend. The blood rushes again. He’s nineteen. Thepanic starts again. What does he know? Will he able to get me? Will he be ableto see me? To know me. To like me. To stay with me. I breathe it all in andgive it away to the waves. I have no control over this moment right now. I walkback to our date and let it be.

Miles Sievrights world of folk music

2011-10-12T05:49:00.000-07:00

With a deep sigh, MilesSievright sits down and begins his show. He has just come back from a tour onthe coastal route, and is back in the Mother City. It’s the Tuesday nightritual of live bands at The Waiting Room. Sievright’s fans sit around him in anintimate surrounding. The couches provide us a comfortable sitting area that wecan sink into and listen to his music.

He plays as if he is in his own world. We watch as he developsan arithmetic quality of riffs and chords while strumming and picking on theguitar. He is usually accompanied by Arlyn, his bassist, but this evening hefeels a little lonely without the bass. This way, the crowd can keep himcompany.

A problem with The Waiting Room is that the acoustics never seemto be up to scratch. It’s a small venue,but the speakers seem to distort the areas towards the sides. This evening, theaudio is not bold enough for his music, but does the room justice regardless.

AfterI blushed my way through the gig, I caught up with Miles for a quick ‘Q and A’on the rooftop overlooking long street while we spoke about music, selfexplorations and a collection of around 300 songs he has stored.

What does a young folk singer write about these days?

Dirty social politics. I get introspective when I write. It is aform of tension release for me. There is a realization of the bigger picture inan abstract way when I involve myself in the writing process. It’s a great ideawhen you decide to do it on your own. Arlyn is my bassist. He is the one who is recording the albumwhich is coming out in September. We havethe same ideas. He is a philosopher with the vocal ability, and I am onewithout speaking so much.

Where do you go when you close your eyes?

I go into my emotion. I savour every moment, and feel mostalive. I almost feel selfish for going somewhere else. At the jazz festrecently, I closed my eyes and went on an astral trip to the music’s story.

What other genres of music intrigues you?

I can list a bunch of bands… The National, Nick Drake, JoyDivision, The Smiths, Paul Simon, Habib Koité,Bob Dylan and The Beatles.

What is the best environment to work on a new song?

I like my room on Kloof Street(Cape Town). It’s quiet. If I wake up withsomething in my head, I can just write it down. The best days are lazy Sundayswhen I have a warm room.

What will be the name of the new album?

I’m working around the idea of All Pieces Fit, which basicallysuggests an end of a new chapter. Once you record an album, you can feel all ofit. The album will represent the informative part of my life- who I am, where Icome from and where I am going towards. I like exploring and playing with newideas. Give me something to work with, it will be a transaction.

Did you have a music teacher or were you self-taught?

Istarted playing at age five. My mom used to sew dresses for exchange forlessons, and then I started learning and experimenting on my own.

Whatmusician would you enjoy opening for?

Probably The John Butler Trio or Simon and Garfunkel.

What music were you brought up listening to?

The Crosby sons, The Beatles, Rodriguez, Cat Stevens and EltonJohn.

What makes you nervous in the music world or your own life?

The prospect of getting a nine-to-five job makes me nervous, ormarrying a girl who is obsessed with the wrong things.

What is the difference between local and international shows?

In America, their culture is to watch live music. South Africa doesn't have a large area of live folk music.

“The exchange between you and the person playing is sovisceral.”

Heleft us, and I’m sure leaves everyone with a feeling of serenity and connectionto sounds that are authentic and real. For me, the experience was raw and brought me back down to earth. The only thing missing was a campfire and some marshmallows.

David Bullard

2011-10-04T05:49:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have no idea who David Bullard is and why I was so excited to read his opinion in Playboy. He was fired from The Sunday Times for being racist. This was his last column...

Imagine for a moment what life would have been like in South Africa if the stupid white man had decided to stay at home and not bother to discover what else the world had to offer.

The vast mineral wealth lies undisturbed below the Highveld soil as robotic herdsmen tend their cattle. The robot herdsman had been invented to give the real herdsman more time to work on his plan for manned space flight to Venus.

The reason the vast mineral was still lying undisturbed below the soil was simply because it was safer there. Bring it to the surface and someone would be bound to pinch it so by keeping it in the ground it was a bit like having a safety deposit box. And what on earth would they do with all that mineral wealth anyway?

There are no roads because no roads are needed. The wheel has been rejected as impractical because the thriving transport industry has developed a hovering machine that runs on solar energy. No nasty emissions and 400km on a full charge. The luxury models are greatly in demand by the tribal elders who like to ride through the skies flanked by their protectors complete with blue flashing lights.

Their children don't watch TV any more because they got bored. Even when they introduced 3D television in 1720 and added a new function (predating Aldous Huxley) which blew out smells appropriate to the movie it was a success for a while and then everyone got bored with the content and decided to settle down with a good book or listen to the iPod they invented in 1698. Sitting around the fire listening to their grandparents telling stories has been outlawed lest it become an offensive African stereotype. When they're not dipping into the literary works of their ancestors or splitting atoms the children like to tease lions and crocodiles. This would not normally be a good idea because a child can get eaten that way but this never happens. That's because the lions and crocodiles have been trained to play gently.

Families live in immaculately built apartments which rotate to follow the sun. The energy is used to heat water and power the many electrical appliances that the normal family acquires. The cellphone has been invented and discarded by the tribal elders as a "bad idea" because it makes people anti social. Consequently there are piles of unused cell phones keeping company with the unwanted flat screen TV's, CAT scanners, hovering machines and golf clubs stored in government storage facilities.

There are no unsightly shopping malls because everything the average family wants is delivered. With typical efficiency a tribal visionary called Akke-man transports fresh food efficiently across the country so that nobody goes hungry. It is a logistical exercise that is a further credit to a great and advanced civilisation.

But with all the smug self satisfaction that goes with the knowledge that you are probably the most evolved people on planet Earth , there is still the feeling that some essential happiness ingredient is missing. Praying to the elders is no help, not because they are clueless but because they are too busy playing bridge in the great retirement home in the sky.

Then something happens that will change this undisturbed South Africa forever. Huge metal ships land on the coast and big, awkward metal flying birds are sent to explore the hinterland. They are full of men from places like America and Europe and they are looking for lap top computers, iPods, cellphones, flat screen TV's and hover machines powered by solar energy. Suddenly the indigenous population realize what they have been missing all along: someone to sell things to. At last their prayers have been answered.

*After 24 years as a trader in the global financial markets David Bullard decided to opt for an easy life and became a journalist. His iconic "Out to Lunch" column has been running for 16 years and is as offensive as ever. Not that he gives a damn...

These were my thoughts on the situation.

Iwant to begin with a quote I most recently found in searching freedom of speechin an attempt to find the real origin of what human beings are allowed andforbidden to talk about.

TommySmothers, an American comedian, composer and musician exclaimed that “the onlyvalid censorship of ideas is the right of people not to listen.”

DavidBullard did what any human being with a voice could- he expressed it. His viewscould be seen as outrageous or realistic, but either way, who are we to judgean opinion, because in the end, it is an only opinion. The problem with theoutcome or feedback of this particular article is that the readers of the piecetook the view and surrealistic approach of decolonised Africa and made itpersonal, so therefore it offended them. What I received from this piece ofwriting was the direction of a simple statement of “what if.” It includes theidea that South Africa might have kept its prosperity by holding on to itsAfrican roots, tradition and culture. It also suggests a simple life wherebytechnology, corruption and distraction of intoxication are non-existent. Thatby far surpasses the reality we exist in now in which each day we are facedwith more crime, violence and human hatred. If I blinked for one moment at thevisual description Bullard has depicted, I would sigh with relief instead ofconcern.

Iam not a person of colour, so I cannot understand or bring awareness to theidea that I would be offended by this piece of writing. If anything, in myposition- a white woman, I sense a bit of envy in the black South Africansstill inhabiting their own land. I want my own origin, and sometimes feel outof place playing the role of a white woman in a predominantly urban countryfull of people of different languages and traditions that I can research, butnever fully understand. In some small sentiment, I would take these words as acompliment. It is not done in the way to hurt or provoke people intentionally.I think the concept behind it was done to think of a lifestyle that bringsunity and harmony to all who seek it.

Icould think of nothing better than “lying undisturbed below the Highveld soilas simple tribesmen graze their cattle blissfully unaware that beneath themlies one of the richest gold seams in the world. But what would they want withgold?”

Whatwould you or I want with gold if a world or even more, our homeland existedlike this?

Isay this because my opinion is mine, and certain emotions and a way of life hasproduced this mindset out of me; however each of us have a different idea, andalternative reaction to the writing, and I for one think that we should allgive one another a chance to voice it, even if the reaction is not what welooking for.

Playboy's launch

2011-10-03T07:43:00.000-07:00

I was reading the launch magazine (April) of Playboy SouthAfrica few days ago (i received a free VIP Sexpo package with this edition) and managed to hype myself up to the point where I wasinstantly let down. The cover introduces Tracy McGregor- sister of the gorgeousKerry Mcgregor. She is a South African model. That is all. She is wearing apair of white knickers with a black bow attached to it, and her legs poised tothe side of her body holding onto the Playboy sign. Sheesh. How blady creative? I am already bored. Hertits are flat. Her hair let down, and, her body-not endowed at all. Simplewoman takes the Playboy platform down. Nudity has never been this mundane.

I look for the editor’s note immediately. Peter Pieglintroduces himself to the brand and what not. He is googable, but notbrilliant. I see an FHM reference. Oh wow- big shocker there. I note his records- a motor journalist, anowner of his own publishing company and a proud owner of a HarleyDavidson. Not much. He needs to rethinkediting a magazine of such standards before attempting to create, conceptualiseand live out the Playboy brand. Driving a Harley won’t increase his crotcharea.

It is time to lick and flip. The magazine begins.

The next page entails Hefners history and how he is marryinghis third poppie at the eager age of85. He feels the timing is right for marriage. His sons are out of school. Hisex-play/house/sex mates have been shipped out of the mansion, and his silkpyjamas are ready for the new nuptials. I don’t know how you think ol’ chap,but I think she may be getting a little bit more that you in this deal. MeetCrystal. Fuck knows who she is, but according to Hef, she wants to sithome-bound at the Mansion for the rest of his days and look after him. (Well atleast until he kicks the bucket)What a man. What a typical illustrious, wellclichéd man. I can imagine it now. “Honey, I’m home. Order the mansion staff tomake us a meal.” Yes Hef, a woman who really looks after his own heart, andhouse. C’mon now.

Page by page we see the usual advertising, and then April’splaymate is ready for five minutes. Meet Amy Tara Bridger- a 23 year old beautytherapist who… yawn. What a bore. Her images look like her boyfriend put themtogether. Hand on hip. Check. Tilted neck and jawline. Check. Big eyes. Check.Aaaah! I want to crawl out of her skin I am cringing so much. How very average.Where is the allure? The temptation? The teaser? If I had a cock right now- hewould be so let down.

The centrefold is coming up. I have never made the gestureof reading any magazine vertically, but this would be the perfect opportunityto. Here it comes. I am ready for you. I am turning the page… and… fuck it.It’s a fold out.

To be honest, I have never bought an issue of Playboy andnever really read an entire print edition from back to front. However, I havewatched and researched and observed all I can about Hugh Hefner and the Playboybrand and I am disappointed in the launch magazine.

I look back to the front page just to make sure what I amreading and carry on. I am looking forward to David Bullard- one of the most controversialand entertaining columnists give his opinion, and I rush off from the sighs ofthis page and leave for the next.

Pussy lover bitch tits! Who the fuck took these photos ofTracey McGregor? She is a beautiful woman, a lingerie model and a home brewedSouth African. Here she looks like a Tutankhamen from Egypt with breasts. Thereis no concept for the fashion shoot. It’s a pretty lady, and we can see hertits. So what? Never mind the lack of theme or idea for the shoot, the editorthought it would be a great idea to Photoshop bubbles in. So; Tracy is like aglass of champers? I still don’t get it. It was horrid. And I repeat myself-she is a pretty girl.

Chuck Palahniuk’s words were good. Not great, but goodenough.

I toss the magazine aside and make some tea. I assumeBullard will blow me away as he did way back when. I assume wrong.

I Google Playboy once more to check if this was a joke ornot. Nope. Even Peter Piegl resigned. As if that is saying a lot…

I hope to find another issue and be more in awe.

International music gives us a beat

2011-09-26T05:27:00.000-07:00

I went to review this musical get-up for one small seed network at Albert Hall in Woodstock with Ruth Rom. One of the best nights. One of the greatest venues. Now closed physically. Open in my memories.

Read on.
Then I suggest
{YouTube}
{Torrents}
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Just get your ears to listen to these guys...
ai ai cap'n

“Exotic eclectic energeticscratch-a-delic electro rock.”

Yes, this is the way C-Mon& Kypski describe themselves. Whew. And what a description it is! Now sayit on repeat- just like you did way back when: “Red lorry, yellow lorry, redlorry, yellow lorry,” and you’ll be double twitching in no time.

After having a glimpse of aninterview I found with these fellas on Speakerbox, they mention wanting toscore a copy of Acid Alex by Al Lovejoy. Well I just got hold of my own copy,so perhaps a call while they still here so I can dance circles around them attheir next show, which I am afraid I will miss at Oppikoppi this year. I wasthinking a barter system. My book in exchange for tickets to your next show,hey? Fair deal, on my behalf... Expect, I guess, that the book is borrowed.But, fuck it, life isn’t fair, and I want those tickets.

So, it begins. I am outsidehaving a smoke and a whiskey while I hear the interlude between the DJ and thenext act. It begins with the grinding noise of a ‘Kill Bill’ feel to the areaaround me. Someone is shouting: ”1,1,2,2,3,3!”, and then it jolts into a rhythmthat my shoulders want to interact with. I feel like I have just stepped into aBret-Jemaine-Murray combustion of hilarious awkwardness. Yes people- Flight ofthe Conchords have arrived, in my pants to show me some new moves. However theyare not Flight of the Conchords, they are C-Mon and Kypski, and the print of mynew frock is aroused by a new sound.

Clickclack, swish, swosh, bing, bang.

I might have to run a few laps before I keep up with theirbeats. I think they want people to put their hands up, but I’m not paying toomuch attention because the individuals are bouncing around me and I’m joiningin to their madness.

Take me higher music chaps, or more like, take me to gethigh. I want to smoke a fattie-boom-batty with these Dutch boy-men and talkabout nothing in particular, and then pass out to their music so I will smileduring my sleep. This is the first time I have entered their musical abyss, andI’m ready to sell my soul. Oh wait, I think I
hear a piano, and a Russian… I am swallowed into an Eastern European whirlwindof indescribable sounds. I either want to hula hoop around the dance floor orget down on my knees attempting some Russian folk maneuver.

"Thetiny club is packed with young people, mini skirts, long blonde hairstyles,freshly sprouted beards, with jeans and corduroy clips.”- C-Mon and Kypski

Nobodyin the audience can keep still. We look like a circus crowd on heat, all in aweof their dynamic, epic sound.

Jou ma se secresie bill

2011-09-26T02:07:00.000-07:00

Last year I wrote an article about the protest against the Secrecy Bill which was featured here. If you were following the Right to Know Campaign, you should be aware of what is happening with this bill. If not- take your thumb out your ass and get knowing now!

This is my first editorial about this bill. I am currently writing a follow up of the current status. Pending...

“Jou ma se secresie bill!” shoutsZapiro, as I shimmy my way into the crowd.

It’s midday on a Wednesday in CapeTown and it’s my human obligation to get loud. So if you heard any noisestreaming off from Roeland Street, I, amongst others shall take credit forthat.

People have gathered together tomarch and protest against the government. They have introduced a new actregistering all government information to be censored to the public. I, for onehave a problem with this and so do the hundreds standing next to me sharing theirvoice and opinions.

Billboards are held high andstickers are worn with bold lettering ‘We have the right to know.’ The energyoverlapping the area is full of rage and the people look ready to battle thisnew bill.

Organised by Mark Weinberg, theright to know campaign was drafted following parliamentary hearings on theBill in July 2010 and demands that secrecy legislation must comply withconstitutional values. It is based upon detailed submissions made to Parliamentby civil society groups.

The Protection of Information Bill(the Secrecy Bill) says that its aim is to regulate how valuable stateinformation is handled and protected, so that it is not lost, destroyed,altered or given to the wrong people. It provides ways to classify and to declassifyinformation, and establishes a database of declassified information for thepublic. It also makes it criminal to spy on South Africa.

With ears and eyes sharing vigilancewith my surroundings, I am not at ease. To my fellow comrades, as it isannounced at the protest, please will you start paying attention? Shouldn’t thegovernment be looking after our access to the information rather than taking itaway? I sense that option seems impossible.

The year is 2010. South Africa hasendured challenge after challenge thus phasing on to multiple humanitarianlessons. My lesson is mine, as the governments as theirs, but have they reallylearnt anything new? 27 years ago, the dominating Afrikaans white governmentoverpowered people of colour with their jobs, homes and public spaces. Westruggled through segregation, violence, political frustration and confusion.This year we experienced the contrast of controversy and development. Whitesupremacist Eugene Terre’Blanche was killed while we heard Julius Malema’s echoto “Shoot the Boer.” The soccer World Cup came and went and the xenophobiaremained. The Black Economic Empowerment program is growing, restricting whitepeople getting jobs and businesses’ precedence on employing a percentage ofblack people in order to gain trust from other businesses. (I was not involvedin the apartheid, why am I being affected by previous generations?) Myreasoning for delving in these directions is because I was informed of it. Itwas communicated to the public, by the media, and processed by me. I want to beinformed. I want to have access to information. I want to, and will fight thisbill.

Why does freedom need to beoverturned? Is there a breach in our living clause because it seems the roleshave been reversed? We have been fighting for democracy for over 20 years. Theconstitution was written for these exact purposes. We want to fight for thetruth and secure our voice in our community. This bill is once again, justanother restriction in South Africa that the government demand us to follow. Ifeel as if I have entered the 2010 space odyssey and that the alien intrusionon our planet is in fact the African National Congress, originating fromancestors that don’t connect to their culture or people at all. When will theycombine abantu and ubuntu as a unit and act with the intention of helping humanbeings be aware and present? I think the time is now.

Our human history has taught us thatsecrecy does not work for a nation, especially one under the rule of a rainbow.What has changed since Mandela was released from prison? Everything- andnothing. He fought for freedom and now he is watching his own political partytake it away. It does not make sense to me. I have followed our history andmade sure my awareness of my country’s development and ruling is up to date. Icrave the knowledge that my surroundings give me. If it is taken away from me,what reason shall I write for? According to the bill, the disclosure- even ofsome information which is not formally classified can land citizens in jail.This will lead to self-censorship and have an unsettling effect on freespeech. JACOB ZUMA! Do you really want to take free will out of freespeech?

As a journalist, I have come to a stand still.The writers of South Africa represent all of us. Their words, updates on thenews and exposure on the media give us the liberty to think, act and provideinformation to the citizens. If this is taken away, how will the public stay incommunication and stay educated about our country. We want to be able to accessall information and be educated of what decisions are made for our country, ourhome, our lifestyle.

Images courtesy of onedogchicken

We, the people of South Africa, havea voice and it shall be used. They think they can stomp on our dignity andpride with their arrogance and assumption of conquering our nation, but theycannot and will not stomp on our voices.

As Andre Brink, a South Africannovelist and UCT lecturer put it so bluntly on Wednesday afternoon, “don’t fuckwith writers, not even if you’re wearing a condom!”

Our information should be provided.No arguments. Day to day, we are surrounded by information, whether it is foundin a cell phone manual, on the web, in a games box or on a milk carton. As human beings we need to be educated about details and facts. That is the waywe learn. For someone to take information away from us, we would most likelydwell in a society of ignorance and misunderstanding. There would be a lack ofknowledge, loss of debates and an impossible deliverance of opinions. Is thiswhat the government wants to introduce to us? I certainly hope not, otherwiseboycotts and riots will rise as quickly as money is spent.

We need to remind ourselves that tobe ordinary is to be human. The freedom charter is an act of the constitutionwhich is part of each of us. If we have any obligation to this country, weshould say no to this act.

As the crowd disperses, I envisionmy self holding hands with whoever is present. These people are here for thesame reason I am- liberty. I sigh knowing that my afternoon has been wellspent. I consider myself a link to acting, instead of futile words that aremuttered in conversations with friends about standing up for their rights andstarting a revolution. With an empty bottle and a hoarse throat from screaming,I head up the street and go home knowing my day had a purpose.

Viva!

Playing with Light

2011-09-15T06:32:00.000-07:00

On a Jozi weekend visit this year, I managed to find in-between time to navigate my sister's lens onto a subject matter. The matter being me.

This was Arden one and Arden two Playing with Light...

Pieter Vosloo Photography

2011-09-15T04:06:00.000-07:00

“Photography is away of sharing my view of the world through my eyes. I share my personalexperience of what goes on around me. It is basically about lending my eyes outto the public and sharing my views with them.”

Each of us study orexist in our surroundings in different ways. Not Pieter Vosloo. He captures it.
Today I capture the identity of Jo’burg-based photographer PieterVosloo and his vision to capture it.

What camera/s do you use to capture your images?

I use a Canon EOS 20D at the moment, but love going out with my 35mmMinolta to shoot black and white film.

When did yourinterest peak for photography?

I studiedphotography about four years ago. I didn’t know a lot about the process before,but after I captured my first black and white print, I fell in love with thecontours of film photography.

Have you experimented with other mediums, like Polaroid or Lomography?

Polaroid is such a cool medium; you never know what is going to come out. Ithink lomo is a shit gimmick and a waste of time.

What is a typical fashion shoot like for you? (What are the models like towork with? Studio versus outdoor locations - which do you prefer?)

Fashion shoots… um, where to start? Fashion shoots are so lame in SouthAfrica. I prefer to test than do kak for magazines. The models vary from one toanother. Most of the time, they (the models) just need to be brought back toearth. I love shooting with natural light on locations. Cape Town is great forthat.

What do you enjoy about capturing musicians and bands? How do they reactwith your observance and awareness of their expressions and performance?

Musicians are easyto shoot if they trust in you; otherwise they will keep everything tothemselves. I love shooting them in a documented style - they do what they dobest, just be - I mean, isn’t that what everybody wants to see?

What would you like your images to depict?

My images portrayreal life. I record life. I don’t want to portray something fake.

Do you have afavoured location or a specific shoot you enjoyed more than others?

I like ‘missioning’ to antique shops and finding hidden treasures.

Vosloo is afreelance photographer who documents life and the areas around it.

To check out hiswork, click here.

The New Mustangs- Cape Town band(age)

2011-09-15T03:31:00.000-07:00

Introducing...

Paul Freysen - Guitar & Vocals
Calvin Siderfin - Bass
Pieter Fabricius - Drums

So, tell us about your style of music. Are you aiming for a certain audienceor hoping everyone will ride the bandwagon with you guys?

Paul: I would call it raw rock and roll with a bit of a twist to it. I don'treally care about the wagon, I'll walk with them...

Calvin: We are not making music to please everyone. We have an idea of whatmusic we like and base our songs on that style. If people like it, that's greatfor us.

Pieter: Yeah, I would say our set is currently pretty diverse. Although westill classify ourselves as a rock act, we hope to be accesible to anyoneseeking a good vibe. We try to keep things simple.

South Africa is full of up and coming rock n' roll bands, what do you thinkwill set you apart from all the other sounds?

Paul: Music is an art, not a sport. There are no winners. We just want to playmusic, have fun and enjoy what we do. Hopefully people will acknowledge that.

Calvin: We try base our music on raw energy, which I hope will come through atour shows. All we want is for people to have a good time while watching ourshows.

Pieter: I feel that with the way things are growing, 'being set apart' is notexactly our main goal right now. There are so many great bands these days.Delivering a completely fresh sound and performance will be wild, but right nowthe focus in on playing something people can enjoy, something that isenergetic.

Which bands have you supported and learnt from over the years?

Paul: One of the bands I saw recently that I like is The Great Apes. Taxi Violence is right up there too.I'm also keen to see what Jetblack Camaro and Black River comes up with.

Calvin: Nowadays there are loads of local bands I can draw inspiration from.Friends of mine's bands such as The Pretty Blue Guns, New Holland and TaxiViolence have a great show.

Pieter: The Dirty Skirts, as well as Desmond and the Tutus are 'floating myboat' at the moment.

Who recorded and produced your album, and why did you choose them?

Paul: We are still looking to find the right studio, but we have a few in mind.We first want to play the songs live and shape them, so it's 100 percentcomplete.

What is your outlook on local bands? Do they get enough support andrecognition to stay here or should they locate overseas for moreacknowledgements?

Paul: In my opinion, you can only really call yourself a band when you haveplayed at least 50 shows. These days, everyone has a band, records a CD andgets their video on TV. Then three weeks later, one of the guys goes solo.

Calvin: I seem to think they do. I suppose it comes down to how far you want totake it.

Pieter: I think there is enough demand in South Africa for bands to get decentsupport and recognition.

Can you tell us a little bit about each of your characters and what musicalbackgrounds you guys come from?

Paul: I grew up going on holidays with my parents where my dad would make mixtapes for the road. Mostly The Beatles, Small Faces, The Rolling Stones and LedZeppelin. In my teen years, it was Nirvana, Helmet and Silverchair. It wasanything actually until the late 90's.

Calvin: I got into playing music from listening and watching bands in highschool.

Pieter: My taste in music was kind of non-existent before high school. Exceptfor Roxette and Greenday cassettes I listened to on my walkman. That wasfollowed by a pop punk craze which initially inspired me to start playingdrums.

Do you write the music together?

Paul: I come up with the vocals and guitar parts. After that, Pete and Calvinadd their bits and we fine-tune it like a cars engine.

Calvin: I think we tend to have a good balance when it comes to writing. Ithink we can follow the mould most bands do. Paul will come up with an idea,guitar and vocals. Then I will add the bass and help with song structure. Petefollows with the drums.

Whats' an average rehearsal like?

Paul: Three hours of jamming, making jokes, talking crap, music channelsplaying on the TV, and then more jokes.

Calvin: Usually a catchup over a beer, then we setup and go through the songs,and then more beer.

Pieter: Yeah, they normally take place in the evenings. I rock up ten minuteslate. Paul opens a beer. We'll hang around for a few minutes shooting the bull,then start setting up. If Paul or Calvin have new ideas for songs, they we'llbring it to the table. We practise for about three hours with a breather inbetween.

What do you enjoy about the Cape Town music scene?

Paul: It is diverse. It is great not having to watch the same bands play overand over again.

Calvin: It feels like a family. All the bands are friends and party together.It's good.

Pieter: What Calvin said.

Besides for music, what other activities or day jobs do you guys have?

Paul: I have a company called Rhino Linings in Durbanville.

Pieter: I do what the rest of Cape Town does. I work as a web/ graphic designerand often get involved in anything web related.

Calvin: I do something similar to what Pete does.

When will music be uploaded on your facebook page and myspace page so we canlisten to it?

Paul: We are trying to do things a bit differently this time around. We willplay the songs live until they are one hundered percent right, then we will hitthe studio for an album, or maybe a single with a video. Who knows...

Pieter: I'm quite keen to lay off recording a bit, rather than rushing into awriting frenzy to get studio ready. I haven't recorded in almost two years, butI'm excited to come back.

Check our website for updates. You'll know when it's coming.

Over and out.

A 2008 memoir from Glen Bloch

2011-09-14T03:04:00.000-07:00

“I was born here, I was raised here, I will live here and I will die here.”

The most simple and powerful words a South African can use when living in this constant commotion of a third world country.

These views belong to a South African citizen. He is also a white male photography student who took the initiative to document a protest voicing anti-xenophobic ruling in Africa.

If the public had to break down each aspectof this statement, I’m sure each individual living in Africa could relate toevery single word. This ideology was practised in the most common way SouthAfricans are used to- a peaceful protest taken place around the premises ofWitwatersrand to promote and define awareness of the shocking incident ofxenophobic attacks occurring around South African townships and rural areasearlier this year. Photographer Glen Bloch witnessed these protests, andcreated an experience of visual information for people who missed the event.

I noticed the contrast first before thesubject matter. The photographs themselves were full of beauty and pride, andany person who put time into focusing on the images must have sensed an emotiveundertone, like I had.

“The only way I reacted was removing myselfby taking photographs. It was an extremely powerful experience. The amount ofpeople all protesting for a single cause was captivating.”

A deeper question should be asked to thoseindividuals who have become desensitised by the passionate outcries andpowerful wording on their signs. It seems as if the people consist of apathyand disconcert for this country. I am almost positive that each South Africanknew of or experienced a glance of what the xenophobic attacks represented, andeach person had some emotional link or connection to what it meant for SouthAfrica, and Africa as a whole.

Thousands of people gathered in unity toobject to the fear of foreigners in our country. Their aim was to promoteseveral concepts of love, acceptance and harmony by using signs, clothing,gestures, singing and the streets of Johannesburg as a basis.

“Therewere signs written by the people themselves, as well as posters made byspecific groups. Although some were incorrectly spelt the message was stillheard.”

If our message was so clear, thencertainly the government would have taken action and provided as much help andconcern to the foreigners who were being physically and emotionally abused.However, Mbeki was out of the country placing emphasis on the business side ofSouth Africa, and when Jacob Zuma, a practicing man of Zulu culture and newpresident of the ANC, wanted to connect with his people, he spoke to them inEnglish, which had no relevance or help, seeing that the majority of thesepeople’s first language was of African origin.

The foreigners were being isolated,kicked out of their homes, and treated less than human.

The focus that the protestorswanted to make impact with, was that we are all Africans, and should standtogether and not apart.

Attention from a sign posted on oneman’s back, “make love, not hate,” givesus reason for support and understanding to all human kind.

Why did this behaviour of certaingroups of people act selfishly to foreigners? These people had escaped ourneighboring countries from far worse living conditions than South Africa, andwere being treated less than human, in a non familiar environment. The fear isexposed through jealousy and trade. People really do focus on the idea of“every man for himself” and forget to acknowledge and help out the people lessfortunate than them.

This is exactly what the protest wascreated for, to fight against this kind of mindset that most of us are secludedby.

Each individual has been oppressed in theirlifetime; however there is a way of overcoming this status, only if people arewilling to unite in balance.

“Obviously any form of oppressionis wrong, no matter the type. However, if we oppress the oppressors then we arethe same as them.”

We are constantly rejecting customs andisolating people for no reason. This alone, is unnecessary. We have to imaginehow we, as South Africans would be treated in other African countries, and howit would feel to be misplaced and alone, with no job, home, family, support orstructure.

Bloch comments on his experiencesout of South Africa by simply saying that “Fortunately I have never beentreated differently for being South African,” which is the right behaviourtoward foreigners. We should be embracing and welcoming them to our home land,and not push them away by taking away their pride, businesses and newly createdfamily from them.

“It’s not really what I see for SouthAfrica but what I hope for South Africa. I hope our government learns from itsmistakes and instead of driving their fancy cars and making poor remarks, theyget their hands dirty and make a difference.”

In Bloch’s ability to portray theharmony so intensely craved by many South Africans, it allows him the abilityto provide hope for South Africa.

“Maybe it’s just my views, but Idon’t feel threatened, and even if I was, I will still continue doing what Ido.”

Glen Bloch has made his statementto exist and appreciate the country we live in, without isolating foreignersand using fear as an excuse. He has captured a glimpse of the unity we arefighting for. What is your contribution going to be?

The true story of Talewsapper

2011-09-14T01:31:00.000-07:00

Lyricalpoet Donny Truter introduces us to his world, one in which only he exists. Thisis his story, The Taleswapper, and he only gave us a show an hour and a halflate. Tonight we are surrounded byhipsters,Boho gentleman, and what I would imagine, a swinger’s crowd of the late 90’s.The crowd comes together in a cramped, but homely space known as The WaitingRoom, where Tuesday evenings are usually dedicated to hosting live bands tohelp promote local music.

After an hour of several tones, and spoken word, I realise this collaborationof individuals are breathing out music in its purest form. I am introduced tothe members by their appearance and sound making ability. Experimenting withdelight and raw energy is what shone out of the acoustic blues direction TheTaleswapper played with.

Mr. Cat and the Jackal’s members Jacques du Plessis and Gertjie Besselsen havean already laid out acoustic feel to their sound. Their background resonancesets the stage for Donny to enter at such a lethargic pace. With jemba’s, violin bows, an accordion and assorted bell-like chimes, theseinstruments offer a balance of strength, quality and character of sounds.

Inge Beckman, known for her work in well known band Lark, sits in the cornerbehind her keyboard while her voice balances a grunge deep-set feeling comingfrom the focus Donny Truter. His words belong to him and his environment, as heshares them with his audience who sit captivated, cross-legged on the floor.

After the show, I manage to get his attention for a while to query his poeticdialogue. Donny Truter began writing before playing guitar, and he providesrhythms to songs from the lyrical flow of his guitar. He studied drama whichhas allowed him to be aware of the composition of colours, visuals and sound.He is the modern troubadour man who says what’s on his mind and he does notwant to model his voice on what you or he knows. Iconic Beat writer AllenGinsberg and the infamous Hunter S. Thompson made a distinct impact of hispoetic flow.

“Cool is not a repeat, it’s an echo.” Truter

Once my understanding of his concept was made more aware, I formed a distinctgrasp on what his music/poetry is all about. His presence is loud, not in thesense of noise, but rather with character and content. He identifies with musicthat has not been overly produced, and makes that very clear in this newproject. After watching the performance and receiving intimate information fromthe man himself, I stand intrigued, with a little more understanding.

Truter is a storyteller in the true sense, swapping tales from all over theworld. He takes people out their comfort zone and starts a new narrative, andfor that, I acknowledge and respect him. Stay attentive to The Taleswapper, itmight be your story that is shared at their next show.

Ramfest 2011- an extract. a memory.

2011-09-14T00:40:00.000-07:00

Ramfest hit me ashard as my friend’s car did on the eve of the festival- with poignant communiststains and an asteroid shaped bruise on my right hip. I was as attractive as mywounds were and my concern for the next few days was where the next drop, leak orshower of hydration would be. Festival me kicks city me’s ass. I am here forthe music and for the solo mission. I have not been this side of life whatfeels like forever, or so. This is reality here, the one where no one but theband exists.

Tumelo Em’s camera sidetracks me. He is the image, andaccording to him, the ‘irresponsible festival leader” behind this alternativeliving lifestyle band. I find myself infront of Blk Jk’s stage. The main stage is theirs. They own its presence;capture every barefoot kid by tuning their strings in tune to jiving feet andwelcome what rock versus roll is in an urban upbringing mesh. They sex theleopard print up and curse the tilted hat hipsters tear down the streets with.Here is a crew of four men who thrust-protest the norm and use original ideasto exploit and compile new hymns that not only I like, but what Papa Smurf’santhem contains in his pants.

Isochronous exploded before me as they usually do. I washooked from the first performance because they remind me of a band Mew that hitmy spot as soon as their introduction hurled their recording in. Coming fromKidofdoom immortality, member Richard Brokensha, the keyboardist, arranged hisjazz lyrical experiment on Isochronous and allowed audiences to feed off hisemotive narrative of hymn-like songs and elevated melodies put forward throughalternating electric and acoustic shows. To say I like them is an understatement.To say that other people do not exist when they are playing would be true.Their performance was true and daring at Ramfest. Once ‘rock o’ clock’ hit, theaudience steamed off idealistic vibes and conquering attitudes. If the festivalhad not begun yet, this was the time it reached its climax.

Later on, thousands waited for international acts AlkalineTrio and Funeral for a Friend. Growing up through adolescence, these bitcheswere fuelling my energy. Later in my twenties, my fan status let go, but myintrigue did not. Alkaline trio embraced the stage like international acts do-with perusal awareness and loads of strategy. Their aim was to deliver whatthey came for, a banging grinding collective of upbeat tempos and vigorousvocals. Before I knew it, I was sitting on some man’s shoulders with my handsin the air feeling like I did when a bottle of crackling wine came my wayduring teen angst. We were all knocked up with nostalgia and ready to conquerthe performance. My solo stance became a team effort of punk rockers and wewere happy again.

Funeral for a Friend bought their ego with. I can’t listreasons why I like them now, but back in the D, these prowling black clothedfierce screaming men were what crunched up fists were made of. When emo girls werelooking for an accessory or a boy to partner with, each member wrote an ode intheir journal of what they wanted love to look like and it looked or soundedlike Funeral for a Friend. I scrunch my face at their appeal now, but girlsfrom young to old still like that look. I was rather disappointed in theirperformance. Well it was either that, or I was just lost. I was lost in theother stages, lost in the ambience and lost in the smell of food trailerssteaming from all angles of the field. One stage called my name. They are knownas The Dead Will Tell. Telling is exactly what they did, like it is, like itwas, and like it should be. With a constant influx of progressive sound andscreaming talent from new front man Jeremy Forsyth, this band has been aroundlong enough to grow with or grow towards. The crowd was massive, large enoughto compete with Funeral for a Friend who was playing at the main stage at thesame time. Funeral for a Friend < The Dead Will Tell. They make local talentprove their worth on international standards and I was fortunate to listen toboth bands.

I stay in a city (the Cape Town) composed by electronicmusic, so I passed the electro stage to see if I was missing out. Yes, forothers and no for me. I know that back in the city I can see these actswhenever I want to, but for now the festival is a great enough tone for me. I findmy way back to the camp site and wake up knowing my thumbs both deservingly getto be up and straight in good gesture. Packing up my bruises and scratched outskin, I acknowledge Ramfest and herfestivities. Cheers to the first one.