This is was one of the weirdest days I’ve ever experienced. South Africa played and lost to New Zealand on our home ground at Newlands Stadium which started off the Tri-Nations Cup. Some of my friends got tickets to see the game. After the match my friend Dmitri gave me a call to have some drinks with them at a bar called Springboks which is right next to the stadium. He was already drunk enough to let out some brotherly affection and say, “Aaah Rob, just come bru…..it would be fucken cool if you were here too”. So I decided to hook up with them, not because I gave a shit about the rugby I just didn’t want to miss out on the merriment of chilling with the homies get after a couple of pints.
I arrived at the car park and in amongst the usual smell of boerie, (sausages) barley and hops(the brewery is right there) and piss there was a feeling of frustration and hate which was so tangible. The place was packed with hundreds of morbid supporters, dressed in green and gold. As I got out of my car this man looked at me like he wanted to rip my nuts off with his braai tongs and put them on his skottel.
Right then I had this uneasy feeling and I knew this place was not fit for a guy like me to be hanging around. I made my way down to Springboks and luckily I had no difficulty in finding my friends because they were standing right at the entrance. My first thought was that they had been kicked out which would’ve been a good thing because I wanted to leave that godforsaken place already. Luckily we only stayed for a short while discussing the proceedings for the evening. I wasn’t even pissed off that my friends made me drive all that way only to leave so soon.
On the way back to the car I was shocked at how such a simple thing as losing a rugby match can affect our national integrity so intensely that people were even abandoning the principles of the new South Africa. It was so bad that a group of Afrikaners started dissing “hotnots” in public again. The friend that was catching a lift with me is coloured and he wanted to beat the shit out of them. Luckily, being mildly sober my little bit of logic told me that two of us against twenty of them is more like a suicide mission and I just wasn’t up for watching a lynching today. I grabbed my friend and got the hell out of there like a black man at a white woman’s funeral.
Driving home I noticed all the same frustration on the roads. I even got hooted and shouted at by some crazy bitch who wanted me to move out of the way, when she was actually driving on the wrong side of the road. All this got me thinking, what the fuck is up with our people? We stand together singing the national anthem, embrace complete strangers in support and we crack many a brew in solidarity. When we lose though we look at everybody like they’re the shit on our shoes that we just stepped in and treat them with such contempt as if they really were that annoying, vile stench that just fucked up there day. Anyways, I got home to park my car and waited for my peeps to come pick me up. We were all going together to chill at our friend Ronald’s spot.While waiting I was pondering what the night would hold for us……chip and cheese rolls? Dubstep at Fiction? Ashy strippers at The Cage?
My entourage (No turtle) rocked up and we got on our way but first we had to drop Dmitri’s girlfriend Yana off. On our way there we were rounding a bend when I heard this motorbike coming like a turd out of hell from behind us. He was never going to stop in time so I turned my head away and closed my eyes waiting for the crash. It didn’t happen when I expected it to and I looked around to find that he had ridden up on to the pavement to avoid the collision and was now riding next to the car. Thank God I thought, relieved.
In most cases like this when a fool almost causes an accident and gets away unscathed its enough just to apologize and deal with the fleeting feeling of embarrassment, but with one look I could see this guy was a psycho. He rode down the pavement and kicked a massive dent into the passenger door (overtaking on the left tsk, tsk…rasclaat). Then he rode on a bit and flipped us the bird and in that instant lost control of his back and took a massive tumble. Ha,ha,ha what a fucken prick! I can laugh about it now but at the time it was really serious, serious as cancer. Dmitri stopped his car in the middle of the road and got out to confront him. He’s a soldier, at times like that I compare him to Che Guevara.
Patria O Muerte!
(Rob and Dmtri back in the day...)
What made it really weird was that geographically this was the worst place to get into a scuffle. It was at one of the busiest intersections that are in my hood, Plumstead. The spot leads onto the main road and it is in front of two busy restaurants, a video store and a 7-11. As I said the car was stopped in the middle of the road so the other cars had to watch the violent malay that followed.
In an attempt to regain some of his lost pride the bitter biker ran over and in one fell swoop removed his helmet and used it like a drumstick over Dmitri’s head, who must have been taking notes at the stadium because he rugby tackled him so hard which to my knowledge is commonly called a “lomp”. Yana jumped out the car and kicked the assailant two to the chest and finished it off with a graceful stomping of the nuts, nice one girl! (Coloured girls are soldiers baby!) I dragged the guy a few yards by his leather jacket thinking that if I create a distance in between them they’ll both come to their senses, but all rationality was out the window and next thing I was being chased in circles round the car by the madman wielding his helmet (I’m a blogger not a fighter okay).
Dmitri climbed into him again while Yana moved the car. Now Dmitri is coloured and the other guy is white, so are Ronald and I who are standing right there and what I found really funny was that cars passing by would stop and the people would ask us why we weren’t helping our “friend” (the crazy white guy), like it was some kind of race war. I felt self conscious when we started attracting quite a large, bemused audience. Even one of my cousins who lives in the neighbor hood drove past and saw what was going down and thought she would give me a call after not seeing her for six months then the crazy trick has the nerve to ask me what kind of people I hang out with.
I realized we must have looked like a band of thugs who decided to beat the shit out of some old fart for some spare change but mainly for the fun of it. It went way overboard Round 2 went down then Round 3. Every time the fight ended, they’d argue again and out came the helmet which was put to good use. At one point I tried to stop the fight and caught a blow to the head from it. Infuriated I grabbed the fucker round his neck, pulled him over onto the pavement, kneed him a few times to the spinal cord, stood on the inside of his arms so he couldn’t swing them anymore then ripped the helmet from his hands and threw it as far as I could down the road.. Now the playing fields were leveled but the psycho carried on without his weapon regardless. At one point I actually felt pity for the degenerate, I mean he looked ridiculous his jacket and t-shirt were ripped off so he was half naked and bleeding from the head and he was getting his ass whipped by Dmitri who is at least ten years younger than him. When is enough enough? This guy got beat down every time but he always came back with the fight of a pitbull (well the determination at least, not the power).
Dmitri was still shouting, “Hey pussy! Fuck you and your bike! Come li’l bitch, lets go now. You’re a fucken PUSSY!”, when I pictured flashing blue lights popping up soon and I was not prepared to be fucked by the long dick of the law. Ronald and I forcefully grabbed Dmitri and dragged him away until we got to the back roads and walked the long way home, Yana drove the car back.
We got to my place. No one was hurt, Dmitri had a few scratches on his knees, elbows and head from the rugby tackle. He lost his cap and Yana lost her scarf. We had some good laughs, sympathized for the dent in the car and decided to go out for a couple of drinks. Fuck it what else could happen right? Plus we had a funny story to tell.
Well the nights over now but I’m sure I’ll be writing about some weird shit pretty soon. I promise, somehow I have this uncanny knack of being involved in the most crazy situations. But as long as I’m white, it’s all good cause those pork brained Yakub loving swines cant put me under the jail! Rob White
Black and White City is a blog devoted to sharing the moments in our pastiche urban lives where visceral meets emotion and all types of other deep shit my black brain cant remember and let alone pronounce right now. Enough with the fancy language, here’s more tales from both of our coasts to keep you bored motherfuckers away from your crack pipes and blue balls. Read you bitches, white man invented it so it must be worth something innit?…or was it the chinks? This blog is run by Rob White in Cape Town, and Big Black Space in Johannesburg. Both cities are wonderful and stomach churning at the same time, so come take a seat on our bile ducts and get wet baby.