Dashiki Dialogues: Sex and the City of Tshwane

2011-10-28 14:49

‘Never pass up an opportunity to have sex or appear on television.” So advised Gore Vidal, the American author, playwright and essayist.

Then I met a famous film producer in Joburg who took it up a few notches. “What about the invitation to have sex while on television?” he asked with a sparkle in his eye.

If you’re smart, you will realise that that’s a conversation you indulge at your peril.

So I smiled, wagged a finger and moved right along, which was to say: “No brother! Not me, I’m not the one.”

This idea of the public consumption of sex and its display take on various forms. At times, just observing this spectacle can be the most fascinating – if not a very revealing encounter.

Consider our administrative capital and its relationship with public erotica, for instance.

You don’t need to go far. A walk up Church Street will do.

Now if you’re strolling in from the east, you’ll pass the Union Buildings on your right just before you see Capital Inn to your left.

And if you come from the west, with Paul Kruger’s statue behind you, the shimmering structure of the national purse, the Reserve Bank, on your left, you’ll see Nest Inn to your right.

Now these two “inns” are reputed for housing ladies of the nookie trade.

I don’t have to tell you much about the relationship between power, politicians and prostitutes.

However, I can share my impressions of the sites, sights and sides of Tshwane and her night walkers or raunch-mongers, as it were.

They walk the city night and day, though I witness them mostly under the arrogant glare and heat of a Pretorian mid-morning sun, with sweat turning their chalky make-up into a muddy paste that demands a wash.

Sometimes, the thighs they flaunt in cut-off denim jeans tell of eventful nights lived with a guiltless lack of innocence, stern resolve and aching hearts.

Just like the synthetic hair weaves that passed for fine on the previous night’s jol, call for disturbed stares from passers-by (in the morning), who could be en route to church or wherever proud people wake up to go to on a dog day’s mid-morning.

However, whatever dashiki you dress them in – sexy imbeciles, victims or harlots – these figures signify a grave dialogue on our human need for love. Period!

» Follow me on Twitter @Percy_Mabandu 

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