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
Body
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
