/ 26 February 2012

ZAR’s half-baked final fling

The engine roared and exhaust fumes swirled on to the dance floor as a triumphant Kenny Kunene threw peace signs to the revellers at his ZAR nightclub.

Standing on the back of a juiced-up Ducati motorcycle, Kunene — clad in a tweed suit and matching orange bow-tie — looked the part of a man ready to get his groove on.

“I want you all to have a good time — let’s party!” said Kunene, as he cantered into the VIP section.
As far as the so-called “Sushi-King” was concerned, it was time to get down to business — the business of throwing an epic farewell — this was the final night of ZAR in Sandton.

No expense was spared: bottles of single malt whiskies were placed on tables and expensive bottles of champagne in ice-buckets were littered throughout the club.

According to Kunene and business partner Gayton McKenzie, rumours of bankruptcy are mere stories and ZAR is moving on to bigger and better things. It seemed that for the pair, Saturday night wasn’t so much a farewell, but merely the end of part one.

However, there was something missing from the final fling.

Known for its saucy celebrations with sushi feasts off scantily clad models, the party was subdued by ZAR’s standards. Crowds huddled together around the free alcohol and chatted, while the music blaring in the background seemed little more than noise.

“Ja, this isn’t like it usually is. I mean the flow is missing, eh? You used to come in here and it was bouncing — but no, I don’t know — it’s like it’s gone,” partygoer Lethle Lesole told the Mail & Guardian as he slowly sipped his complimentary whiskey on the rocks.

Models in bikinis serving platters of sushi sauntered through the masses looking disinterested.

An oversized golden bird-cage — normally occupied by a near-naked performer to wow the crowds — stood empty.

“The sound — there is a problem with this sound. It’s too tinny and uneven and I can’t dance,” Mandla Nkomo told the M&G as he walked off the dancefloor.

Kunene paid no notice, spinning the tunes like a man possessed from midnight onwards.

Normally frequented by at least one ANC bigwig, Saturday’s fiesta appeared devoid of even a celebrated tenderpreneur with ruling party ties.

By 2am, revellers started to leave and the legend of a club celebrated for its raucous parties was already beginning to fade.