Sorry for the Lord of the Rings quote, but it was the only method of appeasing my craving to watch my favourite fantasy film triology. But any, it really was a night to remember. I only wish I could have taken my camera out without the fear of getting it stolen, because it would have been mighty cool to have some pictures of the evening. My favourite mental image of the night being the sign outside all the bars saying 'No Guns'. Nothing saying you're not allowed knives, ice picks or crowbars though. Although it seems African people don't even need those to induce the propensity for violence - a broken bottle will suffice.
Anyway I went on a night out in Soweto. Big deal. Apart from the fact that within five minutes of being at the first bar I had seen three fights. Which I don't think is the worst I have experienced - I have been out in Southend a few times, after all.
Despite the fear that I was going to return home a eunuch, it was one of the best nights out I have ever been on. The location was obviously a key reason for this. Kind of what I imagine it to be like when the Rio de Janeiro carnival makes its way through parts of the favellas - this was the start of the party season (the first weekend of September, when it becomes warm enough for the locals to begin to party outside), and now every Friday and Saturday night there will be massive bashes on every street corner.
Essentially a man with a gazebo comes along and puts it over a road. Then a man with some decks comes and puts them under one end of the gazebo. Mr Amplifier then comes along with a couple of giant subs, and finally some chap with a bit of mixing ability comes along with a few records and starts pumping out some rock solid funky house. Which sounds sick, just so you know.
Like any good party, it only got started after midnight, leaving a small amount of time to visit some other establishments prior to getting one's groove on. The only trouble being that they were too far apart to be able to walk between them (Soweto is a city of over five million people), so we had to drive. No problem. Except the guy driving was equally battered as everyone else. And seemed determined to carry on drinking even whilst driving.
'Are you allowed to drink whilst driving in South Africa, then?' I asked rather naievly. 'Hell no man!' replied Lil Wayne's long-lost cousin, 'You aren't allowed to drink in public at all!'
What followed was a comprehensive briefing on what to do if we saw the police. If we were in the car we would all throw our beers out the window, at which point we would race off down the nearest small side street and hope to escape them. If we were walking we would wait for someone to shout, 'drop!', at which point we would drop our beers and run to the nearest fence or wall, jump over it and then sprint til we could sprint no longer, and then get inside the nearest building possible and hide under a bed or in a cupboard. No joke, this is what they told me.
So this brings the total number of life threatening dangers for the day up to 3:
1) Being subject to GBH
2) Dying in an alcohol-related RTA
3) Being beaten to death by the police/some kind of angry fellow prisoner with a hatred of white guys in a local jail.
I would now like to add #4 to that list. HIV/AIDS.
This was the closest I have come to it. In a community like this most people know who else has it and who does not. Obviously I was subject to a fair amount of attention, both male and female, due to being the only white guy at a party of over a thousand. And I have been dragged off by semi-drunk girls who only want one thing (not always unwillingly, it has to be said) before. But they have never been this forceful before, and nor have they been HIV positive.
So when four girls have a hold of me and are dragging me towards one of their houses, with my resistance seeming futile, I was a bit worried what I might be getting myself into. And this was confirmed when five of the guys I had gone to the party with came along, grabbed the girls and literally threw them onto the floor. Apparently, these seemingly lovely young lasses would want nothing better than find a nice white young man and give him the gift they had been carrying around since birth. I decided that on this night, celibacy was the best option.
But aside from these dangers, it was wicked. Obviously black people are better dancers than white people, so there were some awesome moves going down. I obviously introduced them to the concept of throwing a few large shapes, but their foot and hip work was awesome - and the booty shaking from the girls left me gazing in wonderment (until some guy came and started on me for staring at his missus - but you get that anywhere, to be honest).
So combining three of my favourite things - music, excessive alcohol consumption and the possibility of meeting new, exciting people and there is a very good night. One that will be hard to match.
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