By BUKAMUSO SEBATA
A group of friends dressed to the nines stumble through the red door that alternately swallows and spits out bodies on a quest to live out Mgarimbe’s iconic ‘Sister Bethina’. Shaky legs numbed out by the spirits of vodka and tequila, dazed eyes painted in hypnotising colours, pretty faces sculpted by friends playing painter.
Moving to the popular youth anthem, they squeeze their way to the bar, drawn by the enchanting sirens of the spirits decked against the red wall. “Ufuna ntoni, chommi?” The question is repeated three more times with more attention paid to the lips in bright red. The response captures the club’s atmosphere: “Something to knock me out!”
One man stands in a cloud of smoke, trying to quench as many throats as he can. Two shots, a Savanna, a shot, three more shots, a Red Bull, a mix, a tray of a dozen shots. The music moves a little faster, the little red house shakes in satisfaction with the number of bodies it is digesting. Money exchanges hands: a tap of a card for the burning spirits, a R10 tip for the friendly service, R200 for the bucket with a promise of paying back the money tomorrow.
The music moves a bit faster, and more dazed-out bodies float towards the one man who holds the key to their youth. Mgarimbe got it right: It’s happening tonight.
