When you go to Oppikoppi you must leave your anxiety at the gate.
There is no space for it inside.
There are just 20 000 other people looking to dance and jump and gurgle with laughter.
We all experienced Oppikoppi in different ways
My knuckles are cracked, skin still dry. My hands held another’s. Weaving in and out.
Skin a sun-shade darker. Dust in every crevice. Black boogas.
My knees shook and they shook; and my feet throbbed from adventures in tommy tackies. Boots, next time.
My arms waved, in praise, and in happy hellos, and goodbyes.
My mouth screamed and sung along. It giggled and laughed.
I licked my lips over and over, dry air. Kiss, kiss.
As we walked up and down our home stretch, Beton Boer road, there was a constant cloud of dust above us, punctuated by bursts of conversation. About shows, about beer, about philosophy, about race and about South Africa.
But we came for the music and we flocked to see Die Heuwels Fantasties on Friday night, as did many who reveled in the electric air “It gave me goosebumps” someone said. Not to mention 340ml, Bombay Show Pig, Kongos, Aking, and Jeremy Loops who all blew my skirt up.
Lonehill Estate was my surprise band highlight. Donning green streaks and pink goggles the lead singer was cheeky and vivacious, drawing the crowd in with his antics and confidence on a hot day amongst the rocks.
Shadowclub and Beast (and many other grand bands) also graced the stages, although I confess I was at that time holed up in my tent. I hear they were fantastic.
French band Babylon Circus were a feast, but Eagles of death metal