Cape Town - It had been a day of mixed emotions. There was excitement and expectancy and, for the most part, I think I felt a sense of urgency might have been lacking.
I was told to be ready by noon.
Kitted out in linen shorts and a plain white T-shirt – it was set to be a scorcher and I wanted to dress as lightly as possible under my satin soldaat (soldier) gear – I arrived in Woodstock to have my face painted. I was undecided about this step – I would have been happy to go bare-faced into the road march. I think in many ways the face paint shielded me from both the harsh rays of the sun and the embarrassment of my awful dance moves.
I am woefully unrehearsed in keeping a beat with a tambourine and waving an umbrella in unison, while still maintaining some kind of rhythmic step that could vaguely resemble dancing.
As layers of paint and glitter covered my face, chewing on some of the particles, my excitement grew.
It was the home of Ebraim Coetzee, “Braim” as we called him, one of the Santam D6 Entertainers captains. The vibe in the home was electric.
We ate pizza and made sure we hydrated well with cold drinks and water.
It was around 2pm that I ended up in Rose street, Bo-Kaap, waiting for the bus to take us to the start of the march at Keizersgracht in District Six.
I was nervous.
It struck me that many of the D6 members on the bus barely knew each other beyond the community of the team, but the camaraderie was palpable.
We hooked up with the rest of the 800-strong D6 troupe, a sea of candy-striped orange, red and yellow, the orange sequinned jackets of the captains gleaming in the afternoon sun.
It was hot.
The slightest of breezes did little to ease the discomfort of wearing a satin suit in 30-plus degree sunshine. I would have been less sticky had I bathed in toffee.
I’d been warned about “klopse time” – when someone says they’ll be there in 10 minutes, it usually means 20 – but something was afoot further down the road that held up the march for an inordinate amount of time.
Over the course of the past four weeks, the Cape Argus has run Minstrel Memoirs, immersing ourselves in the minstrel culture.
I had been to practices in the klopskamers, we had visited industries supported almost entirely by the minstrels, but nothing could have prepared me for the experience of marching down Darling Street, thousands of spectators on either side cheering along with the band, screaming out the names of troupe members like they were Hollywood stars on the red carpet, acknowledging us with cries of “Hie’s jou D6!” and singing along to the war cries.
I have never seen so many pairs of white canvas All Stars in one place. Not ever.
All the frustration of the day because of the heat and the waiting evaporated in the admiration of the crowd and the jubilation of the band.
For an ordinary citizen, there simply is nothing like it. I’ve never run onto the Newlands pitch to the cheers of thousands of fans, but it must be something akin to this.
Along the route, toddlers in D6 colours would join us, running ahead, dancing, singing, shaking tambourines and maracas, spectators offered drinks to the troupe members, and here and there, if the crowd was not satisfied, they’d let you know.
“Nee, julle is boring!” screamed a woman from her deck chair under a gazebo, during one of the band breaks. (No, you are all boring!)
At City Hall, spectators climbed onto the window ledges to get a better glimpse.
This got me thinking.
We pride ourselves in Cape Town on being an “inclusive city”, but there seemed to me too much segregation between the die-hard fans who were willing to camp out on the streets under gazebos for days before the event, and those occasional spectators who just turn up on the day.
Surely we would want a spectacle like this on display for all, with equal access, particularly for tourists who desperately would like to catch a closer glimpse?
Surely businesses along the route could benefit from the boost in revenue by keeping their doors open during the march? I saw perhaps one café open along the route. A route which took the juggernaut D6 troupe about five hours to traverse.
I believe with a little extra care and consideration, the annual Tweede Nuwejaar parade could become a world-class event similar to the Rio Carnival.
I believe we need to share “ons ding” (our thing) with everyone.
Cape Argus