Another Musical Interlude - South African Music

In an earlier post, I thought about songs, musicians and composers that inspired me. Not one of those songs or pieces of music were from a South African musician or band, so I thought I’d rectify that and take a look at the wealth of artists our country has given to the world.

In South Africa during the 1980s, times were turbulent. The country was in the grip of a National State of Emergency, and this gave the state almost unlimited powers to detain anyone (without trial) for expressing an opinion contrary to the hegemonic patriarchy of the day. This gave rise to an unprecedented period of musical opposition. International bands were beginning to take notice, and some incredible protest songs were produced. South African bands no less so; however, because of the perfidious Detention without Trial, these musicians had to get creative with their protests. I’ve put together a list of songs which were part of my early and late teens. Each represents a song that had a special meaning for me.

Best Golden Oldie - the one that started it all

 One of the first songs I remember hearing by a South African musician is Kinders van die Wind (Children of the Wind) by Koos Du Plessis. This song has enjoyed a long life, thanks to singer Laurika Rauch, who performs it to perfection. Although Laurika's version is best known today, I have included the original in tribute to the songwriter. 

 

Best International Struggle Song

 There are a few songs which could be mentioned here, but for me, it was Biko by Peter Gabriel. A South African by birth, he fronted the hugely successful Genesis before embarking on a stellar solo career. His poignant tribute to Steven Biko, who died at the hands of prison guards in one of the most shameful acts in a sea of shameful acts this country endured, is a musical tour de force and still resonates today. I cannot hear this song without wondering how much richer a nation we would have been if Mr Biko had not been taken so young. 

Best English speaking Struggle Song 

The tragedy of the human condition is nowhere better expressed than in Bright Blue's song Weeping. It is quite simply one of the most beautiful songs ever written. 

The Granddaddy of South African Music 

No list of South African music can ever exclude the incredible Johnny Clegg. His first band, Juluka, formed with close friend Sipho Mchunu burst onto the music scene in South Africa in the late 1970s. The international markets quickly embraced him, and he became known as Le Zoeloe Blanc (the White Zulu) in France, where his concert in 1992 outsold Michael Jackson's. Juluka gave way to Johnny Clegg and Savuka, and further success ensued. As a sought after solo artist, Johnny Clegg still performs today, and his son Jesse is making a name for himself as a musician also. A lot of the songs that Juluka and Suvuka produced were struggle songs, and the best of these is Asimbonanga (we have not seen him) written for Nelson Mandela during his incarceration on Robben Island.  If you watch the clip all the way to the end, the great man himself, Tata Madiba, makes an appearance.

The first song of Juluka's that I ever heard was Scatterlings of Africa, which spoke to me on a very personal level. I am one of the scatterlings, and I feel the red earth in my veins and the copper sun on my skin. 

Best Campus Band- English 

For me, this is and always will be The Spectres. I met the band at university, and loved them from the beginning. More pop and less struggle, nonetheless, the band was very politically sentient and were ardent members of the End Conscription Campaign. Their song "Teddy Bear" enjoyed national radio play, and is probably their best-known song. However, the title track from the album Be-Bop Pop called Vox Populi (the voice of the people) is my favourite. I can't choose between the two, so I offer them both for your listening pleasure. 

Best Campus Band - Afrikaans 

During the 1980s, disaffected Afrikaners began a musical revolution. It started with the Voelvry (free as a bird) tour, and produced Afrikaans musicians such as Koos Kombuis, Gereformeerde Blues Band and many, many more. They opened the way for many South African musicians today, both English and Afrikaans. This was the birth of Afrikaans Alternative music, and I was thrilled to witness it first-hand. 

In 1998, an outdoor concert called "Houtstok" (Woodstock) was held. I went, and it was spectacular. The evening ended with Joos Tonteldoos en die Dwaarstrekkers putting a spin on "Wild Thing". 

You can hear the song here.  

Best Afrikaans Love Song 

 I can't offer a list of South African musicians without mentioning the incredibly talented late Ralph Rabie. As the leader of the Gereformeerde Blues Band he gained fame as Johannes Kerkorrel, bringing a scathing critique of white middle class indolence and complacency to life. He tragically took his own life in 2002. His beautiful ballad about Hillbrow, a suburb of Johannesburg in which I lived for 2 years, is nothing less than a love song. 

 Best Afrikaans Struggle Song 

This is a very controversial song, because the struggle it refers to is the Boer struggle during what is now known as the South African War (previously Anglo-Boer war). I've included it because this is part of my heritage too. My great-grandmother fought against the English in the South African War, and was interred in a concentration camp. It is a beautiful song, and pays tribute to a great leader. 

There are many artists and bands that I have left out, and the new generation of singers and songwriters are doing a fine job of keeping the flame alive. 

I am going to leave you with one last song. I love the energy of this song, and it never fails to get my feet tapping! Big by Qkumba Zoo. 

The nature of loss

As part three of my "nature of" trilogy, I thought I would take a look at loss. Whenever we think about loss, as opposed to losing something, there are always deep emotions involved. As a child, I suffered a traumatic loss at age 10. My mother died, a terrible loss in itself, but as I look back on the 36 years since her death, it is the small losses that devastate us. 

My mother never got the chance to see me grow into a woman, see me fall in love for the first time, nurse my inevitable broken heart when it went wrong. She didn't see me walk down the aisle on my father's arm, or see the birth of her grandson (my nephew). 

For a long time, I never spoke about this. People are uncomfortable with grief, and don't really know how to respond. As a child, I sensed this. More than anything else, I didn't want pity, so I never spoke about my mother. This repression was almost as damaging as the event itself. I trained myself to show no emotion, to wear a mask, and to ignore the pain, with catastrophic results for the adult me. My brain now believes that to show emotion is to show weakness. To ask for help is to show weakness. To allow people to see the anxious girl behind the confident woman is weakness. And weakness is not acceptable. If I trust someone and they hurt me, somehow that is my fault. I was the fool for trusting. 

Now, having experienced the aftershock of my loss, I see that this was wrong. I see that trusting someone and being hurt is not my weakness or failing, it is the other person's. I see that showing emotion makes you human, not weak. And I am beginning to see that being able to get up and go to work even when I was terrified to leave the house, makes me strong, not weak. 

As I write this, a friend of mine is going through a terrible loss. Her husband died suddenly in January, and she is coming to terms with the loss of her soulmate. She was very kind to me when we were at school. I was a few years younger, struggling with my demons, and she cared. I met her husband once, and he was a wonderful man, taken too young. But as long as she and their children continue to love and honour his memory, he will live on. 

I regret that I never knew my mother as anything other than "mom". I didn't get to find out the type of person she was, what her dreams were, and how she would have helped shape the person I might have become if she had lived. 

To J, keep remembering him, keep talking about him, keep his incredible spirit alive as you have been doing this year. As the anniversary approaches, know that there are many people who are standing with you, in spirit if not in person, and we are all there to provide what little comfort we can. You inspired me all those years ago, and you continue to do so now.

The nature of friendship

In my last post, I talked about the nature of change and how I haven't seen most of my class-mates since 1985. I have stayed in contact with a few, but by and large, my deep friendships started when I left school. However, it was at school that I met one of my closest and dearest friends. She stayed only a year, but during that year a friendship formed that has " looked upon tempests, and is not shaken", in the immortal words of William Shakespeare (Sonnet 116). 

She lives halfway around the world from me, in Canada. We stayed in touch sporadically after she went back, but that thread holding us together always remained firm. 11 years ago I tried to find her. I was going through a divorce, and I yearned to reconnect with her. I couldn't find her. I tried a lot of things, but she remained elusive. 

Five years later, in 2009, she found me. Our thread was still connected! When I opened up the e-mail from her, I immediately burst into tears. It was a moment of such emotion that I was overwhelmed by it. We have managed to stay in touch ever since, and thanks to the marvels of modern technology, can speak to each other, text each other or like a post on Facebook. 

I have that thread with very few other people. Some because I have never lost touch with them, so the thread never tightens. Others because that is not the nature of our friendship. 

Today I felt the tug of the thread again. I worked on a project in Poland in 2011, and met someone who became one of my best friends. He supported me in my dark days, and I supported him during his. We were geographically apart, but never more than a call or text away from each other. He married, had children and moved to Australia, and slowly, as one does, we lost touch. This morning, his birthday, we chatted for over 4 hours. It was as if we had never stopped talking. We slipped back into our friendship like a comfy pair of slippers. 

Friendship is one of the most important things you can ever experience. It nourishes us, and the delight of hearing from old friends is measureless. 

I am not one for resolutions. I like lists, remember. But I am making a promise to myself that I will keep in contact with more of my friends who are far away. Just because we don't see each other often (sometimes for years) doesn't mean that we can't be in each other's lives. No-one is ever too busy to type up a few lines to say "my friend, how are you?". Life is fleeting, and one day I might be sorry that I didn't do it more often.

The nature of change

One of my loyal readers (who first encouraged me to write this post) asked me why I had been so quiet lately. It's not because I don't have anything to say - that would never happen! It's just that I've been thinking about courage and cowardice, and I need to do research, every writer's scourge. So today I thought I'd take a look at something that has been on my mind a lot lately. 

Next year signifies 30 years since I finished school. This is a momentous milestone, and I'm involved in arranging the reunion. Re-connecting with classmates whom I haven't seen in nigh-on 30 years has been a very interesting experience. One of my classmates posted an interesting thought - why do we attend reunions? Is it to see how much worse off our classmates are than us? 

To be honest, that thought never occurred to me. I attend reunions every year, and it is always sad when no-one else from my class attends. I would love to see the people I went to school with, and to experience the stories of their journeys. Many of my classmates did not have a happy time at school. We all had awkwardness, geekiness, insecurity, and to top it off, we were at school during the 1980s, a decade which, frankly, was not kind to clothes and hairstyles. We laugh at those pictures now, but facing people who shared one's formative years is always difficult. 

As anxiety girl, I am terrified of being judged and found wanting. To make matters worse, I have been elected as Chairlady of the Old Girls Committee, which requires me to stand in front of a crowd of people and make a speech. The very idea of it makes me feel nauseous. To do it in front of people I went to school with somehow makes it worse. 

I'm all about facing my fears, which is why I accepted the nomination as Chairlady. I will proudly stand up in front of those people, most of whom have no idea of what I suffer, and do my best. I will hopefully make them laugh, too. 

I consider it such a blessing that I will be able to see women who have grown into themselves, who have attained success, happiness, motherhood, and who will hopefully understand that the bond that binds us together means more than any petty schadenfreude because this girl is a bit fatter, or that one is divorced. I am thrilled to be able to meet people who were in my life 30 years ago, and show them that I am not afraid. 

To the class of 1985, I can't wait to meet the amazing women I know you have all become. And to Raquel, Mary-Ann and Callie, you are remembered, your memory will be honoured, and you will all be very much with us in spirit. 

Purple Haze

Every year in October, the town I live in becomes a blaze of purple. This is from the Jakaranda trees planted by some well-meaning soul back in the early days of Pretoria. I must confess that I love them. They are beautiful, and the colour is so gorgeous that it feels as if Pretoria is under a gossamer purple blanket.

Unfortunately, this well-meaning soul ended up doing more harm than good. Jakarandas are an alien species here in South Africa, and although they are well-suited to the climate, they have become pests. The pollen is highly allergenic, and they steal water from indigenous plants.

Sometimes, it's hard to tell what's good and what's not. I am constantly being exhorted to try an "all-natural" cure for stress, weight loss, hair growth and many other things. The people who are peddling these products are, by and large, well-meaning. They are merely agents, and as such have no idea that there is absolutely no regulation in the herbal supplement industry. Stuff made in China may contain the same contaminant that was found in baby formula, but because it's 'all-natural", it's ok.

Well, I have news for you, suckers. Plutonium is all natural. Wouldn't want to stir that in my coffee, if it's all the same to you.

Snake venom is all natural. No preservatives there either. Would I drink it? I don't believe so. Not everything "natural" is good.

The Jakarandas are slowly being eradicated. It is now illegal to plant one, and the municipality is chopping down many of the older trees along public thoroughfares. Although I think it's a shame to cut down a tree, I understand that these pretty predators are causing damage to the ecosystem. In the same way, I am cutting out all the pretty predators in my life. Because in the long run, it's going to be better for me.

The list is life

"The list is life" is a quote from Schindler's List (the film). For people like me, lists are important. I tend to get distracted easily. My mind races, and when I meet you, I'm already imagining how we are going to go through an ugly break-up. One of the many reasons why I'm single, by the way. That and the fact that my mission statement is "Trust no-one".

The lists help to keep me focused. There is a great sense of achievement is crossing something off a list, and it helps to motivate me, especially when I'm feeling down on myself or anxious about something. 

A few posts ago I mentioned my bucket list twice. Number one on that list is visiting the Grand Canyon. I have heard people say that that is one of the only natural wonders that exceeds our expectations of it. 

One of my bucket list items was Stonehenge, which I saw in January 2012. There is no question that it is an incredible place, and there is an atmosphere there which is ethereal and other-worldly. 

Author's own picture. All Rights Reserved

  
I have only ever experienced that feeling in one other place, Mont St-Michel in France, which was also a bucket list item I crossed off in 2003.

Source

 However, Stonehenge is a lot smaller than I expected, and there are two main roads which go right past it. You don't see that in the pictures usually. I have such high expectations, and I get so excited about something, that it's hard not to feel a tiny twinge of disappointment when something turns out not to be exactly as pictured. I am given to understand, though, that the Grand Canyon is more spectacular in reality than in any imagination of it. I look forward to finding out for myself, and perhaps posting some pictures here! 

Last night, I took the first step towards another bucket list item. I have always wanted to play the drums, and last night, I had my first real lesson. I did well, and I have managed to master the 4th notes on the high-hat, snare drum and bass drum, and also 8th notes on the hat. I have a fantastic teacher, Jesse, who is very patient, full of praise and very professional. I am never going to take Lars Ulrich's seat for Metallica, I'm probably not even ever going to play in public, but the fact that I decided to take a step which, for a 47 year old, is probably fairly unusual, despite grave anxiety about it, makes me appreciate just how far down the road I've come. 

Lists are important, and should be used properly and not abused by compulsive behaviour. A bucket list is the most important one of all, because it is unlimited. I know that I probably won't get to see and do everything on my bucket list, but you know I'm going to try. 

The vanishing past

When I was a kid, we didn't have TV. South Africa came late to the television, and as a result, a great part of my childhood was spent listening to the radio. Ah, those were the days. As much as I love television now, I passionately adored the radio, because it allowed me to use my imagination and be an active participant, rather than a passive observer. Programmes like My Word, Just A Minute and My Music (all obtained from the BBC and broadcast by the magnificent Sprinkbok Radio) helped to shape my love of words and music.

We used to listen to the Cold Power Hotline on a Friday night, Squad Cars, Snoektown Calling, and the Man from the Ministry. Swop shop (or what have you?) on a Saturday morning, and the Little People's programme presented by Kathleen Davis at 4:00 on weekdays. These were the days of Malcolm Gooding, of gorgeous, plummy English accents.

CBT teaches that we shouldn't look to the past, we should focus on the present. I found that very helpful, and it has helped me to imagine a future. I do miss those days though.

I miss writing a letter, going to get a stamp, and getting one back in due course. I miss the days when we used to play outside, riding our bikes and falling out of trees. I miss the notion that life was simpler then.

Of course, life wasn't simpler. There were things going on around me that I barely took cognisance of. The country was ruled by a white minority who was ruthless in repressing information and created an institutionalised system of racism that is still casting its shadow, 60-odd years later.

There is a funny saying: "It's never too late to have a happy childhood". My childhood was happy in many ways, and yet dark in many others. So now, at the age of 47, I'm having that happy childhood. And I'm loving every minute of it. 

So where is the sarcasm?

When I set up this blog, it was originally intended to be a chronicle of my weight loss journey. I felt that there would be many opportunities for sarcasm on this particular subject. I'm by way of being a sarcastic person by default, and the name stuck. 

Please be assured, dear reader, I will be sarcastic in the coming posts. There is no escaping my caustic tongue. I do want to make it clear, however, that I am not mocking or in any way denigrating any sufferers of any mental disorder or illness. Far from it. I will be telling you all about my ridiculous overreactions to the tiniest situations, and how I'm learning to deal with them and take myself less seriously.

On the other hand, unremitting earnestness is frankly dull. I will therefore be throwing in the odd musing about life, the world, my two wiener dogs, life... wait - there are wiener dogs, you say? 

Well, yes. Yes there are. More specifically, these two. 

Spike

Quattro

It would not be an exaggeration to say that these two fellows kept me functioning during the very dark days. I also have good friends. Patient, supportive, understanding and above all, patient. They also helped me, and in some ways, saved my life. 

Nothing I have achieved would have been possible without the support of my father. He is a man among millions, and I am his magnum opus.

Are you prepared?

I live in a country with one of the highest death tolls from road accidents in the world. Our roads are filled with carnage daily, and barely get a mention in the news anymore. 

Yesterday, an horrific crash took place at about 8:30 in the morning. An 18-wheel truck was unable to stop, and ploughed into about 50 cars during peak-hour traffic. An accident on this scale is too shocking to ignore. If you want to know more, you can find it here. Warning, the pictures are not for the sensitive. 

Driving back from work yesterday, I heard a lady who was in the accident interviewed on the radio. She was, understandably, very emotional and upset, although she wasn't injured. She said the same things that everyone always says when something like this happens (and it happens with terrifying frequency here in SA). 

Then, she said something I didn't expect. This brave lady, who had agreed share her pain and emotion with the audience of a major radio station, said that the fact that one of the crash victims had a fire extinguisher in his car enabled the bystanders to extinguish a car on fire, which could have been so much worse if they had had to wait for first responders.  She said that she was going to go out and buy fire extinguishers for all the cars in her family. She also said that a lot more could have been done if people had first aid kits in their cars. She urged everyone listening to go out and buy a fire extinguisher, and a first aid kit. I'm going to do this today.

I listened to her words, really listened. She talked about people texting while driving. As I drove in peak hour traffic, travelling at speeds of between 50 and 100 km/h, I counted at least 7 different people texting while driving. Now, I don't care if they are putting their lives at risk. But they are putting my life at risk too. And I can't allow that. I want to implore everyone I know to speak out against texting and driving. It's rapidly becoming the number 1 cause of road deaths. Everywhere. 

Please watch this video. Share it and spread the word.

My fellow South Africans, please drive better. Be more tolerant. Smile at people. And let's make a noise so loud that the companies who are putting faulty trucks on the road are shouted down and run out of business.

A musical interlude

Someone asked me a few days ago “what is the best song ever?”. I rather flippantly replied that asking me that is like asking me to pick which one of the bacteria in my stomach is my favourite. Then, I copped out and picked Guiseppe Verdi’s Marcia Trionfale (Triumphal March) from Aida. I have seen this performed live, and it is extraordinary. The trumpet solo gives me chills every time I hear it. I was roundly mocked for my choice. I know this is a long piece of music, so if you want to listen to the trumpet solo only, it starts at 3:48.

On the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How do you pick one song? You can’t. What I can, and did do is start a mental list. Here are some of my choices. I might need to pick this up again later.

Greatest cheesy 80s song sung by a drag queen

Divine’s you think you’re a man but you’re only a boy. I can’t get enough of this song. It is so intertwined in my consciousness with being a teenager in the 80s, and those were exciting (and tasteless) times to grow up in. I know it’s fashionable now to mock the 80s hair, clothes and music, but I am proudly a teen of the 80s, and I know where my loyalties lie. 

Cheesiest 80s song not sung by a drag queen

Live is Life by Opus. This one also gets a special mention for having the snare/bass drum riff most likely to make you use your clutch (or accelerator) pedal as a kick. 

Best Foreign language song

This is bittersweet for me, because I love German music very much. However, there is no question that the song “Mijn Vlakke Land” and “Le Plat Pays” – the same song sung in Flemish and French by the incomparable Jaques Brel, is the clear and outright winner. 

 

I would also like to throw out some love to Spider Murphy Gang, whose iconic song “Skandal um Rosie” was my introduction to German music and Bavarian Rock and Roll. Shhuuuaaaa! 

Best metal song

Because my metal tastes are vast, this was particularly challenging. But purely based on adrenaline, it has to be Motorhead’s Ace of Spades. 

Sexiest song

This is a controversial one, because there are quite a few contenders. I guess it all depends on what you mean by sexy, and I think we can all agree, that is embodied in Def Leppard’s Pour some Sugar on Me. 

If it were my personal choice though, it would be Nine Inch Nails' Closer.

Warning - video and lyrics are MOST definitely NOT SAFE FOR WORK

 

Best Song to Sing along to at 3:00 in the Morning on the way home from a Gig

Survive by Bella Clava. Not the greatest quality sound in this video, but they are amazing.

Full Disclosure – I know the drummer of Bella Clava personally. He is one of the kindest and most generous-spirited people ever. That had nothing to do with the choice of this song, I just relate so completely to the lyrics. The band is awesome, show them some love!

Best Rock Song

Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin.

I know I’m not going to get a whole lotta argument here.

Do you agree? Vehemently disagree? Leave me your lists in the comments or mail me about this or anything  at anxietygirl999@gmail.com