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If you know me, you know that I *heart* kicks for real. You also know that I prefer small boutique stores and I certainly don't enjoy looking like everyone else. This Sneaker Freaker article really interested me and I feel compelled to share with the 3 1/2 people that read my blog.
In South Africa, the market is as small as a pin head, it's not easy to run an independent store that does more than break even. I think too many store owners adopt methods from overseas that can't fully work in S.A. We have to think of ourselves as 1000 steps back in terms of streetwear culture (that goes beyond chucks, dickies pants and spotties) in S.A. We are not a developed market in terms of individuality etc. and Joburg and Cape Town and Durban (where applicable) are easy enough to penetrate into when you're dealing with a handful of people, but when you're trying to get mass reach, that's when you walk into a brick wall.
For the first six years of my life, my family was very close knit, and made up of very few people. Well, compared to a lot of people, I guess my family was still very big. It was made of my parents, three siblings, my mother's four siblings, three of my cousins and two of my father's siblings. There were names that floated around during conversations about abuti such and such in exile or ausi mang mang ko Zambia but it never really registered what these people were doing in exile. I thought exile was a country and these people that my family kept referring to were living amazing lives and didn't have to worry about hippos, stay aways and such on a daily basis. I thought "the struggle" was in South Africa. In Soweto. Not in Pietersburg, because my coloured family lived the life there: nice houses that were made up of more than three rooms and bathrooms in the house and nice schools. And they never seemed to be concerned about stay aways, staying out of the way of marching IFP mobs, wondering where missing family and friends are, or any of that stuff that seemed to form my environment back home in Soweto.
1991 arrived. Mandela had been released and freedom was on the horizon. Lots of MK soldiers that we never thought we would ever see again were beginning to return home, and we sensed hope in the adults' voices when eavesdropping on their conversations. I remember the first time I heard Letta Mbulu's Not Yet Uhuru. My mother's eldest sister- whose name was just a figment of conversation between family members and never really a real part of our family- had finally arrived. She who they called Sesi. They didn't even call her by her real name. I couldn't understand why until I finally met her. She pulled everyone together, and spontaneously, there was a huge party right there in the yard. Struggle songs could be heard from the corners as neighbours came out to greet and party with the returning soldiers and people who had snuck out of the country decades earlier. This was the moment of the formation of my family as I know it now.
This was my first time. The drums combined Mme Letta's powerful commanding voice implored you to listen to her message. Not Yet Uhuru. Immediately, perhaps because I had become a product of my environment, I knew exactly what the song meant. That freedom will never be here until it is accessible to everyone in every corner in all of its manifestations. But, we stlil celebreated. We celebreated because we were alive, that we were together, that we had all found our way back to each other again. That our family had been reunited. Surely, better days were to come.
Tonight, driving through the leafy yet badly potholed streets of Bryanston en route to one of the poshest surburbs of Johannesburg- the wealthiest African city, almost eerily, the disk changer switched to Letta's CD. Of course I pumped up the volume and sang along. Four times. Then I found ened up in the middle of a conversation with myself about what it is that Africa needs in order to reach its full potential. This is a conversation I often have with myself, and it often leaves me back at square one. Without political will, meaningful public participation in governance and lawmaking, solid economic-educational-health policies, we are done for. We will never rise in the way that we can.
Phew. This is a long post. And it's late. It shall continue. Not Yet Uhuru.
As seen on the feet of my fav rappers that I like to hear rapping sexy and romantic vibes to a girl - Fabolous, Juelz and Pharrell (is Skateboard P a rapper? iono lol). I could def buy these for a boy. And for myself too.
Unfortunately, Gucci Mane has also been spotted rocking them. I wish he'd stuck to wearing those tasteless Gucci kicks I've seen him in.
I'm all alone in this world, she said, Aint for nobody to share my bed, Aint got nobody to hold my hand- The truth of the matter's I ain't got no man.
Big Boy opened his mouth and said, Trouble with you is you ain't got no head! If you had a head and used your mind You could have me with you All the time.
Man, Camp Lo just brings back memories! It was 1996, I was young and had already been culturally socialised (thanks to my brother) to understand hip hop and to love it. Even though I was an annoying 11 year old, my brother still kicked it with me and even taught me what a "bar" is and I was proud to be the one that schooled so many boys on such basic knowledge. My brother, who was in matric at the time, had previously tried to make me less boyish by buying me a Mariah Carey Fantasy single- and my favourite version was the one with ODB in it. There was just no hope for me.
So anyway, come 1996 and my brother was banging Camp Lo around the house and of course the big tune was Luchini. Well, hip hop just wouldn't be without a sample and in this particular instance, the legendary Ski (shame on you if you don't know who that is) sampled Dynasty's Adentures In Music. I still listen to Geechi and Sonny every now and then and it always leaves me smiling and yearning a little for the good ol days when talent was all that mattered. As with all of hip hop, beats are recycled- sometimes cleverly and sometimes really badly. Have a listen to Camp Lo's Luchini aka This Is It and decide for yourself whether it was a good sample and think about whether you've heard any subsequent samples from this.
If you have never heard of Camp Lo, kill yourself. (I know, that's real mature of me, hey?)
I love this exhibition. Invite 100 artists to go wild with Darth Vader's helmet, and they'll give you some amazing work. Mocoloco say that the exhibition has been travelling for four years and will exhibit in L.A before heading to Philly for auction. Too bad it didn't make it to Joburg City because I love this and so does my inner geek.
