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English translation by Johann
written by Jean Jordaan and Johann Kotze
Thursday night took off when I set foot outside Classix on CD just as the sun was setting. The CD shop and adjoining Bookshop were open, and an eager crowd was browsing and chatting expectantly. We had bought tickets for a concert by the Abaqondisi Brothers, the Brothers of Understanding, but we weren't at the concert venue - that was out of town and the route was probably not that familiar for most of us there- it was to be held in the Kayamandi Hall.
At the appointed hour, a trio of minibus taxis pulled up and engorged the lot of us, with one or two seats to spare. We hardly noticed Bird Street, so familiar that it would take an effort to register. But everyone looked out when we entered Kayamandi, where the taxis had to slow right down to avoid strolling pedestrians, and front doors everywhere stood open to admit the gaze of passers-by. We were dropped right outside the Kayamandi Hall. There, a jazz trio was warming up the cement walls .. Johann Smit of Spinnekop playing an old guitar and René Belcher blowing sax, together with a drummer who wasn't familiar to me. They were jamming good ... if you cocked your ear you'd recognize Afrikaans folktunes like "Bobbejaan klim die berg", but transmuted to smokey lounge music nodding very playfully at the heritage of the songs. After everyone had settled in (and had had a smoke outside, though the hall was well-ventilated, all the windows having been broken, presumably by the same youngsters who had scrawled graffiti all over the walls), the Brothers were introduced. Elvis, the group's leader, took over the introductions and spoke very passionately about the understanding that they wanted to bring, and how good it was that us whities had at last been dragged up the hill to listen to some music, even if it had cost making us buy tickets so that our desire to get our money's worth, if nothing else, would get our asses on the bus. Actually, he didn't say any of that about that tickets, he was much to kind and effusive to do that. That was me.
Anyway, he asked us to stand and they opened with the national anthem in Xhosa, Afrikaans and English. Everyone fell silent under the spell of the rich voices, and it seemed as if they had hardly begun when the pap and wors arrived. That done, everyone sat down again for more singing. The hall was getting fuller and fuller. The mamas who had made the food came in to listen. Teenagers were filling all the back seats and standing in the aisle. The Brothers sing with joy, which doesn't allow them to stand quietly with their feet together -- they stamp and dance, kick high above their heads, and leave the stage to invite members of the audience to dance with them. If they had tried that in a more formal setting, or without reaching out with so much warmth, they would have had some very awkward people up on stage as it was, however, no one was shy, and everyone took turns -white and black, young and old - and everyone applauded. They showed where the treasures that Paul Simon sold on his Graceland album came from, which opened the doors for them to represent South Africa in London later this month. I can't think of a better bunch of ambassadors to send. If more of us pursued our goals as passionately as the Abaqondisi Brothers, South Africa would conquer the world in no time.