Last night I went for another evening of karaoke in part because it was being hosted at a new venue and also wanted to celebrate life and the company of each other, me and my people, then reality crept in as the night went on.
The Food Box is a food market I’ve never visited before. Aesthetically it’s a fancy looking place, a great spot to hang around and eat with the family during the day. From what I’ve seen other people order, their food does look quite appealing. I had the cheapest burger on the menu, it slapped, it didn’t come with fries nor coke.
There is a bar, it’s a bit expensive and does not have a lot of variety, by variety, I mean they don’t cater to people who want to get drunk on the cheap, I’m talking quarts and everything that SABS supplies on tap.
Given the demographics and its location, the night meant that we had to keep things clean, sing tunes that are family-friendly, it is a school holiday after all. The place is well lit too, which sucked, and the screen was mounted nice and high, which is plus. The highlight though was that we were anticipating that people will leave early, and we’d have the place to ourselves. Initially, as we walked in we did get some looks, I am not sure whether it was my siblings, they did dress up a little or it was because we’re black. There was a bit of an atmosphere. The first few songs we did got everyone pumped until it was my turn singing Love Hurts by Incubus. A song nobody knew and it got awfully quiet. I didn’t care though, it was a good song to sing and felt good singing it.
As the night grew old (not really) – 9 pm, me starting to sober because I cannot justify their pricing for liquor and they had criminally shut down the “bar” without announcing last round. Something struck me about the kitchen staff that worked in the building.
Either I am just casting my ignorant opinion out there or this was the first time a lot of the kitchen staff have been presented with a rare opportunity to have a little play at work. The video I filmed was after a moment between the three girls when the singer when to go collect the mic. It really got me thinking.
Where is the equality?
South Africa is dubbed as a multicultural, free and fair nation, where all is welcome. Yet a lot of the people – the spine of this country, I am talking about your kitchen staffers, your maids, petrol attendants, packers and cashiers at your grocery store are left behind. Why is it that in 2019 some of the things we take for granted is a luxury that is never realised for others; like being able to have enough data to aimless look at places they wish to experience?
Speaking of data, would I be wrong to say that a lot of South Africans waist the data on WhatsApp, Instagram and Facebook?
I’ve been browsing Google Maps a lot of late, looking at cities, remote towns that I have never heard of like Pofadder. I spent the most time in Northern Cape because it’s a desert and I was following The Orange River. A lot of the towns there if not all have Afrikaans names and you can already guess what’s the primary language of the town. And this is mainly down to the Great Trek, and Christian evangelists.
I want to confess, I was on Google Maps because I was looking for a high school that produced some of the most repugnant members of society, and it got me looking up the Great Trek again and then I became a rabbit in a hole.
Throughout the existence of humanity, literacy has been the greatest form of education and inspiration for the greater or worse. I wonder how do we motivate or empower people that are left behind? Our education system is broken, I learned nothing apart from the English language because I had a brilliant teacher. Everything else came out of curiosity and asking questions.