The day of the election and another gig. This time it's in one of those luxury golf course communities that look like maximum security prisons for white collar criminals. Situated conveniently close to a squatter camp in a neighbourhood I like to think of as Diepsloot Extension 14.
It doesn't matter which one it was. They all have carefully chosen Disney/Africa names...
SUGGESTION TO GOVERNMENT: When you're not dreaming up more floor crossing legislation, surely there must be some law that would change the names of these monstrous blots on the landscape to "Winnie Madikizela-Mandelaville" or "Bob Mugabegrad"? Cheaper than changing the name of yet another Voortrekker town and so much more fun, don't you think?
Getting in: One look at the layers of electric fencing and you know why Eskom's capacity is so stretched. The writing is on the wall in the form of contract notices at the boom-moat-crocodilepit-tanktrap-barredgate-thingy, cheerfully reminding you that you abandon all rights and assume plenty of responsibility when you enter. IF they let you enter. Perhaps a simple sign reading, "Criminals go away! Go and steal from the poor! (Like we do) would suffice.
The venue: Has a tank full of live lobster. At first I mistake it for still more security, but then I realise it's an indication of the class of the establishment. Everything is so-ho-oh fresh! I'm tempted to order a steak, but I already have a mortgage. I'm not really hungry, I just wanted to see of they kill the cattle at your table too.
The gig: Really nice people. No more or less twitchy than any other audience. They'd probably like South Africa if they ever moved back.
Getting out: A last queasy look at the lobster as I go. I would like to be a vegetarian, but DAMN it's hard! Veggies only! Soon. As soon as I quit masturbation. Then the drive past the squatter camp as the rain pounds down and flood waters rise again. The radio predicts more of the same tomorrow.
Ah, what am I moaning about? People have the right to live wherever they like! As long as they have the money. Change to a music station and Bob Dylan sings, "A hard rain's gonna fall."
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