Friday night
Fikile Nkambule
Friday night, what’s a girl to do? Original plans … Oppikoppi – the infestation? We didn’t make it, no matter how much this wicked imp plotted and schemed, wires were totally crossed. Gauteng is where we’re at so there’s gotta be something out there, right? Fill-up time.
We first hit the scene in Westdene. The Jamaican Eatery, a nondescript eating and drinking hole that also feeds the soul with original Jamaican/reggae sounds. Haven’t a clue which potion to order – each sounds more exotic than the next. From fishbowls to murky looking concoctions, I settle for the Jamaican Iced Tea with a delayed effect that doesn’t come close to tea. For something a tad grounding, I decide on the mussel starter soup-like mix with most basic veggies of all colours.
When it reaches the table it looks more like a main course meant for a family. I soon forget about the size as the whole table digs in, making approving sounds (you can get as loud as you can, just keep track of the music) and my tummy does a grateful jig.
The whole heady experience becomes just that … After midnight … Moving on to a different vibe the troupe heads east. Cruise control through the usual haunts, nothing exciting.
End up somewhere where it’s entirely up to you to have fun without stepping on too many toes and opinions. The Blue Naartjie. Somewhere in Orange Grove. The aim … to dance. House and soul are dished out as the place fills up. Oh, they have them in all shapes and sizes here, nice mix.
Some admirable figures twist and turn all over the place. Taking a breather by the bar, a stranger offers me whatever I’m drinking. But five seconds later beats a hasty retreat as I empty a glass and bop towards the dancefloor. What I said to him, I haven’t a clue.
Feeling better about the fact that none of us has seen the inside of a gym for a while, we head off to the next meat packer with sounds. Somewhere in the north, a haunt that has unfortunately closed by the time we get there. Noise. My head is pounding. Noise.
The south beckons to us as we head off to find a koppie that would accommodate a noisy, cranky crowd.
Something-to-six through a haze of smoke (or was it mist?), energetic bodies managing to find stable footholds, we’re looking down on a city slowly coming to terms with the dawn while we struggle to come to terms with the fact that the night leaves us broke and unfulfilled but happy. Go figure.
Fikile Nkambule is the public relations officer for Metro FM.