Kenzhero, still my Hero

There used to be this small guy in a Cape Town bar called Marvel. The small guy could always be found behind big decks, playing big songs. The songs were even bigger because they were sandwiched between a cool European electro soundscape all week. The slim and clever sounds of duelling heart monitors that constituted electro music mid 2000 had established a beachhead on Long Street, the “Las Vegas strip” of the Western Cape, minus the gambling and neon lights but pretty much everything else. Within that glitch beat heaven one commando was quietly starting a return to the Real.

In fact when I saw the name on the Marvel weekly listing I was sure this was the Electro King with a name like Kenzhero. I imagined some weirdly pale half Asian/half American guy with Harajuku hair who probably had an Akira poster on his living room wall overlooking his home studio. He probably wouldn’t say much and drink a weird concoction as he played electroed the shit out of Marvel. The (as I eventually found out) black dj was a disappointment in terms of how stereotypical I was becoming; But it was plain crazy reconciling the reality of a Motown, Blue Note, Rhino, Hip hop, deep soul, funk playing Dj... eish yo... to the name on the list. Actually, even after seeing him several times it still didn’t click that uKenny was who he was... so there isn’t a specific moment when I remember actually meeting this musical giant in a laid back afroed DJ’s body.

In the original Marvel, with the orange and yellow light panels glowing warm over a long black leatherette couch running along one wall all the way to the back room, it was hard to miss the only black on the decks that Dj Kenzhero was. In paleface heaven that Cape Town tended to be after sundown early in the millennium you sort of acknowledged the other darkies... after you found out they came from Limpopo not Lubumbashi. Hello Xenophobia! Nice to meet you. It was easy to imagine Kenzhero - My Hero was some sort of improbable import from England or New York, he didn’t say much, but he looked you in the eye and gave you the peace sign (or a headphone crowned nod) when you waved at him from across the room. The other thing which made Kenzhero was when he had you on your feet feeling exactly as your parents did when they heard the same exact old-skool track (and dancing in a style your children will come to ridicule you for) he never gave you a withering look when you stumbled up to him to give him a sloppy high five in abject gratitude. That was Dj Kenzhero.

So life did its thing, and I was starved of a nice and small live Kenzhero set for a hot minute until by chance in 2007 I attended what I think was (and I could be wrong) a precursor to Party People at 44 Stanley on a weekend escape from Cape Town. My then boss, Kgomotso, took me there and I find none other then Kenzhero and several other escapees from Cape Town (before it became an full blown exodus actually) in a cool place playing real music. That was the moment I started thinking maybe I can do Joburg after all... but that’s another tale for another time. So then skipping through the insanely memorable ?est Luv decks lecture to the year 2011 Long Street, Zula Sound Bar I attend my first official Party People...finally. Ratex were raw and live and Mr Koolout himself Ryko was neck deep in it... I had to step out for a minute to breathe. When I got back it was Kenzhero, on one deck, with a laptop... I am damn sure I made a comment about that (and the amount of Lauren Hill he was playing that night). The one deck thing just didn’t look right... but it still sounded right and more importantly felt just like home. The musical home I discovered many years ago at Marvel... most importantly I was with some of the people that made Marvel feel like home. This was my first official Party People.

You & Me & Everyone We Should Know

Gaborone's #1 Ladies Opera House has gone through several reincarnations in order to stay relevant and make a meaningful contribution to the Gaborone social scene. The most recent being the introduction of a Farmer’s Market of sorts. The affair is rustic and laidback, it allows for artisan makers of foods to come share their wares in a loosely arranged bunch of tables. The atmosphere is chummy as everyone casts a lazy eye over their neighbour’s wares while chatting to a customer or two.

This is exactly what the night market, called You and Me and Everyone We Know, is like. The difference is that this market is all the way in Cape Town and that it features an arty serving of wares. You might run into social and youth lifestyle journalist Maria McCloy with her collection of vintage clothes mainly for women, and some accessories and African print hats and caps by Babatunde, or Yang Zhao serving Chinese dumplings, with Dj Soulo Starr gracing the decks with an eclectic set of breaks from jazz standards that fuelled a thousand Hip hop songs you probably never heard of. The venue is in the courtyard of an independent cinema called The Labia Theatre on Orange Street in Cape Town’s City Bowl. The whole deal is a real Voltron of art, music, friends, strangers, niche lifestyle choices and recycling of many clothes and accessories that need a new pretty young thing to pimp out.

Malibongwe ‘Mali’ Tyilo, originator of fashion blog site Skattie, What Are You Wearing? is on hand with a cocktail (from Rudie’s bar set up next to the Piiimp Dumplings cooking on hot plates one and two) a camera and a quick smile to snap interesting stuff for his blog or inspiration towards his other job a fashion buyer for Woolworths South Africa. “You know... things happen,” responds Mali to a question about a dinner he was supposed to host that evening. Another fashion stylista is Zolitah Magengelele the former fashion buyer is now making fresh for Danish publications on the regular, ”I’d love to come to Botswana to do story!” she says seriously in response to an idle query about doing just that.

Back at the Piiimp dumpling stand Yang laughs, “Oh I just sold them, for ten rand more!” She had promised me her last dumplings but chose to make a profit instead. Yang then buys a round of tequilas from Rudie to soothe the issue. “Capitalist shit babes!” Yang says again something her piimp in crime Maphuti Morule backs up. Besides hooking up the only hot snacks table at the night market the ladies (along with Anthea Knows Best Poulos – don’t ask) make up Pii-imp Rap Crew, real designation unknown but consider them rappers and they are hot.

“The night market is a space to feature some fashion and art and to get people talking to stimulate some debate... while also making some money,” said market organiser Adel Snyders earlier in the day when the trestle tables and fashion racks were being assembled. The adoring public all find something to get into with one excited trio of young black and fabulous twenty something’s squealing, “This is SO Martha!” when they picked up some vintage shades; just to clarify, they meant Martha their friend not the international queen of middle class American genteel entertaining and dinning accessories, Martha Stewart. That would just be too good, but go on tell You and Me and Everyone we Know all about it.

Opening image from Mali.

One last one

Incident. Some health nut was knocked over by a car when I turned the corner into Kloofnek. It seems the cyclist was belting down the hill at an amazing pace, and the inevitable happened. Some one turned into the road and its all history now. He survived, the cyclist I mean. He was writhing feebly on the road as I walked past. The faces were amazing, such still-lifes. At accidents its pointless looking at the centre of attraction, that is boring and all too real. Look at the different perspectives surrounding the mess, there you see it all.

Shock, obviously.

Relief, I often wonder why, is it because they don't know the person, or the person has survived, or it wasn't as bad as they hoped it was...?

Sadness, again obviously.

Glee, kids are just plain sick.

Anger, so futile in most cases and an inappropriate emotion. Accidents will happen, circumstance or our own stupidity, why get angry I wonder.

Stoicism, this one is the best. The know-it-alls, as if they have foreseen this exact thing. I got stopped by a shop owner wearing this one very well. He told me all about it, where he was when it happened, what he was doing and the time exactly. He even kindly pointed out the angry looking American customer who ran out of his shop to go see what was going on. He gave me a history of speeders down that stretch of road, and ejaculated an indignant "Something must be done about this!" I made all the right noises bid him goodbye after a decent amount of time and shuffled off home.

That cyclist just might ride again, people are built a lot tougher then we suspect that and fact that the medical people took only seven minutes to get to him.

I do go on at times especially when I can't decided what it is I should be doing. Hope it made your day shorter, that way I will know I did something positive today.

Another Life and Times hit...

Pic from Zapapedia (click! you will like this)