‘It’s no use — the women are in eruption. And those who have until now been simmering quietly in the backseats of the sedans are now steaming furiously …”
Though DH Lawrence surely wouldn’t mind adding that bit of a modern twist to his lines, the phalanx of muftis, shayks and religious personages of Mayfair and Fordsburg surely would.
That’s if they knew that their dire warnings and pleas went in vain.
And that far from praying instead/visiting the graves/covering up/just staying away, the young Muslims of Johannesburg were out.
And were they out … Swarming around the edges of that notorious spot to see and be seen on this holiest of days — Zoo Lake in Johannesburg’s northern suburbs.
It’s the afternoon of Eid-ul-Fitr, the holy day of celebration on the Muslim calendar that marks the end of Ramadaan — the month of fasting and abstinence.
The place is teeming with, er, Muslim celebrants. Only this crowd don’t fit with what one conventionally associates with “holiness” and Islam-like beards, veils and so on.
Judging from the look, sounds and smell of this crowd, a revolution is under way. In the good old days before MTV, local Muslim girls were more covered up, flashing less of what Islam’s holy book, the Qur’an, calls their “ornaments”.
This time around, it’s a lot more cleavage, loud music blaring from souped-up rides and various other paraphernalia usually associated with rap videos, not one of the world’s most conservative faiths.
“Ornaments” are out, loud and proud — and all before three in the afternoon.
“Don’t you want to take our picture?” a girl in a gold-sequined shift dress asks sweetly.
Stacy Mentor (19) primps and preens, compact in hand. On hand to fix a stray curl or two is the Lolita-esque Rishkah Adams (18), who hails from faraway Cape Town. As the shutter snaps, taking in lots of leg and more than a fair share of bosom, one wonders if the traditionally verkrampte Muslim mothers and fathers of Johannesburg have been bitten by a new, liberal parenting bug.
Why else would they allow their daughters to go out dressed like that? Or go out at all, for that matter.
Then again, sometimes it’s not only the girls who shouldn’t be allowed out like that.
Fayaad Galiel (22) initially refuses to have his picture taken, muttering something about “trouble last year with journalists” at the lake.
And yet he is back this year in all his glory — in a cerise linen shirt with flowing sleeves and a pair of houndstooth print pants. The look, one cannot but notice, screams “boy band”, not Muslim boy.
There are many other “celebrants” who don’t mind anyone “back home” seeing their picture in the papers — like the misses Mentor and Adams — those two sylphs in Superga (a sports shoe popular with Johannesburg’s coloureds).
Hmm … coloureds. Cape Town. It could be that the revolution is of a totally different kind. The traditional local flag-bearers of the faith, Indian Muslims, have been infiltrated.
Enter the “water-Slams”, which loosely (not to mention insultingly) translates to “diluted Muslim”. This is generally taken to mean a Cape Town-bred Muslim: a coloured. A “bushie”.
Sporting hip-hop names, such as “Faikah” and “Lateefah”, this species is not averse to the occasional dabble in forbidden fruits, such as micro-minis, smoking in public and the odd sip of a beverage.
The water-Slams is best known for her fashion sense on Cape Town’s beaches — a headscarf to protect one’s modesty, matched with a pair of shorts.
The water-Slams, though, is also known for adding an unmistakable glamour to otherwise dreary Muslim events, whether it’s with the fashion or the colourful language — laden with Cape Flats expletives.
This “bushie-glam” was on show on the Eid — and would certainly explain the dearth of Indians at Zoo Lake this year.
The handful of Indian Muslims one could make out among the teeming crowds of water-Slamse huddled together anxiously at the edges like Arctic penguins. The sight of all the coloureds couldn’t have been very reassuring.
They should have heeded the preacher’s call.
And speaking of the preachers of Fordsburg — one can safely assume there will be lots of getting hot under the turban at the association of “steaming” women with their faith — the domain of the burqa; not the Wonderbra.