As I staggered about my flat last Sunday morning, trying to work off the tail end of a raging headache and a little bit of nausea, I realised that singing, ‘Jou ma se poes in ‘n Fishpaste jar’ would not be something I’d be able to do quite so freely in public. I’d watched bizarre Afrikaans ‘Zef’ (redneck) rappers, ‘Die Antwoord’ (The Answer) perform the previous night at the Alexander Theatre in Braamfontein, with Wit Woef, and I admit to feeling somewhat hardcore that morning .
However, as I watched dust bunnies take flight and considered the plight of Sunday morning TV, I reflected on the pathos of a 32-year old white, middle-class woman from Sandton slurring out lyrics referring to cunts and the like.
I tried to reassure myself with the idea that there were probably a thousand or so similar individuals who were singing obscenities while eating their Sunday morning croissants or browsing organic food markets. Perhaps.
That’s what was so weird about Die Antwoord’s concert… we did not spot all that many individuals who one might expect to enjoy extremely offensive rap by an odd individual called Ninja (a.k.a.Waddy Jones) and a pre-pubescent seeming rapper lass called Yo-Landi Vi$$er. Almost everyone around us at the concert were middle-class, English-speaking White peeps, though the odd Black and Coloured person, as well as a couple of Afrikaans speakers, were around – perhaps my favourite moment of the eve was when Wit Woef’s friend offered a ticket to a young black woman who almost did cartwheels of excitement at the offer. What was evident that the primary motivation for attending the concert was pure curiosity about this incomprehensibly odd spectacle.
They arrived in some sort of 4×4 white stretch limo, as befitting their stature. When we couldn’t spot Yo-landi, Wit Woef asked someone at the door where she was, only to have the doorperson spit at her that Yo-landi was ‘in disguise’.
Watching Wit Woef delicately sip her rum and coke mixed in a ratio of 5:1 (rum: coke) while yelling ‘Wat pomp, julle?” was a sight I’ll recall when we are old gits reflecting on that time we vokked off down to Braamies to tjeck out the Zef rappers (if we don’t have senile dementia by then).
It was fun! Barring the intense strobe lighting which lead to the aforementioned headache and nausea (I couldn’t even finish half of my own 5:1 rum and coke), the concert was a terrific experience. Die Antwoord were unique; they were professional, catchy and engaging, so much so that when Yo-landi announced “Dis klaar, vok off” (it’s finished, fuck off), we all smiled happily and fucked off.
I shall leave you with a verse of one of the tjoons I liked a lot, entitled ‘Doosdronk’. According to the interweb, doosdronk can be translated as ‘cunted’, meaning ‘under the influence of illicit drugs or alcohol; drunk; high; broken; to be extremely tired or worn out.’
Doosdronk,God, waar is my hond?
Lê in my kotz en
Vrot in die tronk
Party, party, party, party, party, party, party
God, where is my dog?
Lie in my vomit and
Rot in jail)
HAHAHAHAH, listen to it on