So, the DA made a poster…

The last few days the country has been in uproar over the DA Youth League’s latest marketing stunt. It has even outshone the sun’s hyperactive activity. Don’t pardon the lame pun.

Now, here’s my 20 cents (inflation added). Feel free to let me know whether or not you agree with me.

From a marketing perspective, I think it was a risky move, but most memorable campaigns are. It has created a buzz, prompted conversation regarding not only the campaign but also the product, and most importantly it engaged a wider audience than it’s standard crowd. It has made a bold statement, and the youth league’s target market generally appreciates bold statements.

Such a campaign will never be without criticism. The majority being that it’s immoral, overtly sexual and sends out conflicting messages to the youth. To this I just have to say: Wake up, welcome to the year 2012. There are more risqué ads that promote tampons, chocolates and cameras. It does not in any way promote sexual promiscuity (who said these two aren’t married (The CDP complained about this)). The only message this one conflicts with, is the message of hate and separation that white and black adults who are still stuck in the stone-age preach to their kids.

Regarding the statement it made, I personally respect it and think it’s about time that someone said it. Wouldn’t this world be a better place to live in if people stopped finding fault in others’ lives simply because they are too scared to face their own demons? Wouldn’t this planet be more enjoyable if society didn’t exclude, but include? If race, culture, sex and religion were not used as weapons? You are allowed to have your own opinion, but that’s just it: YOUR opinion. If you don’t like interracial relationships, THEN DON’T BE IN ONE. Easy, neh?

People tend to take themselves way to seriously. Sure, it’s not only the gay community that are allowed to have pride. Every individual should be proud of who they are, their heritage and beliefs. Yet, as the watered down mantra goes, Unity In Diversity.

We ARE one nation, isn’t it about time we start acting like it?

Ok, enough of that… On a (slightly) lighter side, the poster inspired me create a few of my own:

I am no longer an Oppikoppi Virgin

Firstly, let me get it this out of the way. Yes, I have never before been to Oppikoppi (hence the term Koppi Virgin). This does not however mean that I am a newbie in the entertainment world. I have been to more gigs, shows and festivals than I can remember. I’ve done the whole shebang from playing in a band myself to organising tours. Furthermore, I have roughed it in informal settlements for months in African countries. I’ve done survivor camps, rock climbing, river rafting on the Zambezi and many other extreme fun events. I’ve even gone shopping in Menlyn during the school holidays. So of course I was prepared for Oppikoppi.

Yeah right.

The sheer magnitude of the festival almost overwhelmed me. To see thousands upon thousands of people from such a diverse cultural spectrum all together for one event was amazing. From the white Rasta to the black punk, the boerseun in khakis and a Fokofpolisiekar T-shirt to the poppie trading her Sandton-manicure for hippie-pants and a MK-cap…  To be frank, I can go see bands any time I want, but to live the experience of Oppikoppi is, evidently, much more than just the music.

Our campsite was my base of operations. Here my days began with Black Label and ended with friends around the fire just before curling up in my dusty tent. I was privileged enough to have a really fun crowd camping with us. My fellow Koppi Virgins and I were continually enthralled by tales of previous Oppikoppi’s as told by people like Henno Kruger (doing his 13^th) and others with a few Koppi’s behind them. What made these stories even more awesome was the realisation that I too, was now living the stories I would tell to next year’s campers. Aside from all the laughs and random encounters with even more random people, camping also provided me with a strange opportunity to reflect. I was surrounded by dust (and a LOT of it), noise (every surrounding campsite had its own self appointed DJ) and conversations (you’d be surprised to know what people all around your tent talk about at 3:30 am). Yet somewhere in the cacophony I found myself engaged in my own thoughts for the first time in ages. I don’t know whether it was the change of pace form the city, or the subconscious realisation of the inherent freedom that Oppikoppi embodies. All I know is that there, on the corner of Frank Frost and Freedom, I found a part of my inner self that I thought had long ago been lost.

During the day, things were a lot less mushy and the music took over. Of the 5 stages on which more than 80 bands performed, I frequented four. I left the electro/dance stage to those that actually like that type of music. My personal favourites of the festival was undoubtedly Karen Zoid, Not My Dog, Bittereinder (by far the best local act at Oppikoppi. Read my interview with them on SA Music Zone) and the Canadian band Sum41 who blew more than 16 000 people away with their old songs and new hits alike. Other bands that need to be mentioned for exceptional performances are Van Coke Kartel, Die Heuwels Fantasties, Die Tuindwergies, December Streets, the Lise Chris Band and Frankie Fire. A very special show was the David Kramer tribute, celebrating his 30 years in the SA music industry. He put is all into an amazing performance, collaborating with -amongst others- Karen Zoid, Francois van Coke, Pierre Greeff (Heuwels Fantasties) and Jaco van der Merwe & Peach van Pletzen of Bittereinder.

Certain moments at the fest just managed to put the proverbial cherry on top of the already delicious cake. On the Saturday we had a TweetUp (meet-up of various twitter folks) hosted on the Cuervo deck. I was privileged enough to be there (seeing as I helped to organise it) and meet some of South Africa’s most prominent online personalities… whilst drinking tequila.

Visits to the legendary Top Bar (especially the post-koppi party after the last shows were done) made for more epic moments than I can mention (some of which I’d rather NOT mention).

All in all I can say that my first Oppikoppi experience was a tremendously good one. I will definitely be going back next year… and every year thereafter. If YOU are still an Oppikoppi Virgin, do something about it. Oppikoppi 2012 is waiting for you!

To my Unknown Brother who traded his suit and tie for and tie-die and Doc’s…
To my Unknown Sister who used a portable ablution facility for the first time…
To the Unknown organisers and crew who made this event a reality…
I salute you. YOU are the people that make Oppikoppi the life changing experience that it is.

Why I won’t blog about Madiba

Amidst the hype, trauma, media, tears and tweets… there is a man.
We should all take a moment, and ponder on this reality.

Before I continue, I just have to establish a view points:

• I have a whole heap of respect for Mandela.
• I do not idolise him.
• I do, however, believe that he could run South Africa better in his sleep than Zuma, Mbeki and Obama put together.
• I can do a mean Mandela-accent

 

Now that I have established the above points, let me tell you why I won’t blog about him.

• The media is already vulturing his personal life so much, and I wouldn’t like to add to the frenzy
• In my mind, above any of of his accomplishments, he is still a husband, father, grandfather etc. Heaven forbid that my dad end up in hospital, I would NOT like to be harassed like his family
• I do not want to turn Madiba into Bieber – Just another trending topic, popular hashtag, or icon-of-the-moment.
• I do not have to use Madiba to make a political statement. And yes, I do believe that that is exactly what a lot of the “concerned” people will do/are doing.

Why am I telling you this? Well, I have had quite a few people ask me in the last day or so whether or not I intend to do a Madiba-post. And I had to say no, and each time explain myself.

Now, for the irony part of it all, I suppose that I just did blog about Madiba. I apologise.

Amandla.