Correctional Services said that “matters are under control” at Johannesburg’s Sun City Prison on Wed.
PEOPLE love to look sophisticated - don't ask me why.
Take the example of music, a subject close to my heart. I know a number of people who are chronically tone deaf and can't tell classical music from kwaito.
But generally they are the first to holler: "Ou Hugh (Masekela) ken nie jazz nie!" - as if the trumpeter ever laid claim to being Mzansi's king of jazz.
In public they pretend to love deurmekaar, freaky, non-melodic "number" music that sounds like the band is possessed.
I doubt if they listen to the crap when they are on their own - though I suspect that's when they indulge in Spokes H and Senyaka and have a good time.
On the other hand, I believe some of these "world famous" jazz musicians are conning us.
It can happen and it can be dangerous. I know.
When I was a schoolboy and played in a band in my home town of Mabopane, we once travelled to the then Pietersburg to do a show.
On the way our guitarist broke two of his guitar strings while he was toying with his instrument in the Kombi.
The guitar was the mainstay of the troupe and without it we were non-functional.
There was nowhere we could find replacement strings but the show had to go on.
The hall was packed with locals who had come to listen to this "great" band from Gauteng. Mabopane was not and is still not in Gauteng - but we were not complaining.
Those days, if you came from "Gauteng" and you were in Pietersburg, you were a king and everybody else a moegoe proper.
We must have felt imbued with a sense of absolute superiority - what did "they" know?
They'd just be happy to see a bunch of bell-bottomedmusicians sporting Afros and producing sounds on stage.
The show started and we blew the roof off with Sipho "Hotstix" Mabuse's popular ditty of the day, Thiba Kamoo.
They danced until they could dance no more. We thought of doing other songs, but without a properly working guitar we were stuck. We tried but nothing worked. So we gave them some more of what worked: Thiba Kamoo...
We approached the 30th minute of the song when we sensed that the crowd was excited - but not happy.
Their combined body language told us they had had enough.
A few of them came up to the foot of the stage and hurled abuse at us.
The situation was becoming desperate.
There was no way we could get out of there unscathed if a miracle did not happen.
Our lead vocalist tried in vain to explain that we had a problem, but no one was listening. He was shouted down.
I don't know where the police appeared from but I had never been so happy tosee a cop before.
We were escorted through the back door with the crowd baying for our blood and with our tails between our legs.
Today's lesson: There are more moegoes in "Gauteng" than in Pietersburg!