Charl Blignaut
Thank heavens for soap stars and kwaito kids. It was they who usurped the politicians and beauty queens to put some fizz back into local pop culture. And so it was their night then, when SABC1’s Selimathunzi hired The Pyramid in Johannesburg to dish out the second annual Duku Duku Awards.
From the parking lot already it was clear that Selimathunzi has absorbed the first golden rule of New York clubland: make lots of people famous so there’ll always be someone famous around. Then you can charge more at the door.
A red carpet ran from the parking lot up to the entrance. Thronging all around it was a shrieking mass of rent-a-crowd black chicks.
Celebs didn’t use the parking lot, though. No, they were deposited at The Pyramid’s over-the-top entrance by limousine and had to step into the glare of TV cameras and popping lightbulbs before being able to edge indoors, all the while narrowly avoiding the outstretched claws of the baying extras.
Why not? It seems to be award-ceremony season right now. The same venue recently hosted the Radio Metro Music Awards and last week was also Elle’s South African Fashion Awards. All the new awards are representing a pop tip, but let’s face it, not all of them know how to mix it up right. Selimathunzi sure does.
Decked out in the finest Mary J styles, Metro DJ Penny Lebyane defied the fashion police and picked up her second style award in one week (she also got one at the South African Fashion Awards). Holding her statue in the air she made a couple of comments about Jennifer Lopez and the size of her butt. Then she yelled: “I’m doing this for all the girls beyond a size 32 out there!” Female audience members shrieked and howled. As did the astonishing number of black style queens present when Vusi Twala and assorted Simunye presenters came out in drag for the show’s opening number.
Presenting the favourite actress of the year award, Barry Ronge suggested Twala should have been nominated in this category. Twala, of course, wouldn’t have stood a chance against Pamela Nomvete, who won the award for her role as the villainous empire eater, Ntsiki Lokhele, in the daily soap Generations.
Another of the show’s most enduring stars, Connie Masilo – playing Karabo, the doyenne of abused spouses – beat Casey Dolan, Lebo Mathosa and Zandi Nhlapo to sexiest female celebrity of the year.
It came as no surprise, then, that the biggest male star on Generations, Sello Maake ka Ncube, beat off Isidingo’s Hlomla Dandala to lift favourite actor. No, the surprise was that Callie and Monique Strydom emerged from the wings to present the award. Funny country.
We all know by now that white folk can’t kwasa kwasa, but that didn’t stop Irene Bester from trying. Presenting the sexiest male personality award, Bester called kwaito star Mandoza to the stage.
Mandoza wasn’t present and eventually his manager – the least likely contender for this award in the room – came forward. “There he is!” shrieked Bester, planting a kiss on the paunchy, middle-aged man’s cheek.
Lebo Mathosa may have been a nominee for the most talked-about personality of the year, but Freek Robinson’s obviously never heard of her, calling her Lebo Mathosie. In the end, Brenda Fassie lifted the award anyway and it was the usual “Anyone seen Mabrrr?” award-show routine.
Also absent was TKZee Family’s Dr Mageu, most controversial personality of the year. It was enough, though, just to hear Suzy Jordan try and pronounce his name. “Dr Mgaaar” she gurgled and burst out laughing.
Kwaito stars continued to represent when Boom Shaka’s Theo Nhlengethwa won best-dressed male personality (a few days after the band’s Lebo and Thembi won the overall prize at the South African Fashion Awards). Of the rest, Claire Mawisa won smile of the year; favourite DJ of the year went to Glen Lewis and Zandi Nhlapo won favourite continuity presenter for the second year in a row.
It was Jam Alley’s Vinoliah Mashego who will be remembered, though. She appeared on stage giving a little royal wave, grabbed her favourite programme presenter statue and then dropped to the ground. After rolling about a bit she took the microphone and delivered a volley of Azanian and affirmative action one-liners.
Ignoring the ever-swelling background music, she then tried to get the whole audience to stand and sing Nkosi Sikelele. When the music finally drowned her out, she left, only to return a few seconds later. “I don’t even know the difference between an entrance and an exit,” she said. “Thank God for Bantu education!”