hey hey...Back from Cape Town

let me clear my throat:
So yah I went to Cape Town for an opening of a n exhibition ...should I probably start where everythiong started...the first week of KinBeJozi...Keeping time is my favorite fixation round about then. A boogie was in order so we we went to the now limbo space called Mind Your Head: literally it alludes to the action the patrons make when entering the underground.
My longsuffering husband of then 2days,Christophe had hooked up one of his gurl looks...bringing out from the vault of jozi's mem,ory an automaton-esque hostess by the name of Funky Cleopatra. StoryBoard is a weird concept that just stinks of post clubland irony...I personally would have loved to see my mate in the Ally McMartin alias. Anyway it was so cool to reconnect with the bras from Eza Possible[kinshasa] and see how Kura can get down with some Chicago house beats,if the Funky chicken is your thing...
Michaela,performer from the States via Bern went a step further by challenging this madam to a dance-off...or is it a crunk-off...suffice to say I kicked her ass...ALL HAIL THE HOOCHIE BURLESQUE CRUNKER.

We were in the groove now...the pulse of jozi was set. And it was time to exorcise my first issue...GIRL IN THE CITY.
The meditation started as something quiet simple...mill around the spot where gito baloyi was murdered and see what happens. wow, what happened was this. the pavement was abit uneven. i sprained an ankle. that's where the performance started. i was an injured girl in teh city. afer having had black body paint on me the prcession started downstairs at the car basement of august house, i was n character...... as i walked up i saw a SIGN - he sa clothing and textile workers union. i related for a bit as i felt like a seamstress. i was surprised that sactu was around here. i studied SACTU. i walked up kerk street, retracing his, gito's, final moments. there was silence, i was walking alone. and waiting. for a voice for a comment that would play into the unfriendliness towards femme,femininity, in the city. nothing. just the kinbejozi crew and my assistant bianca. as i reached the opposite end at the corner, a voice from the neighby club said 'hey sexy'. i was activated. i knew that people existed at this corner, therefor there was still life after the event, something else - sorry, i'm making the case of the perf around gito's death here. NOT. not only. my meditation was then about this PINK elephant on top of the building which served as a ganesh figure, this protecting god figure over the corner where gito... i felt safe. i could walk. i could vogue, i could read the street.

so i did my mince. i minced

there was something v difficult that i had to face - to get to the corner under the ganesh figure. i couldnt get to that corner. it was loaded with the story which is the case in most of jhb. everything is loaded with stories. one of the working girls said somthing nice that reaffirmed and pushed me to the corner - oh awusemuhle...(oh how beautiful you are). that called the boys to the yard. pushing me to confront this corner. therefor i waited for the rorbot to turn GREEN i reached the corner, noone shot me. the story was dispelled. the healing had started. for me at least.

the walk back to august house was centred around greeting the people who had given me the strength to go in the first place. to face it.