Rain Braai

A ‘braai’ for all my international readers (in their thousands) is a South African tradition, probably one of the oldest ones that whites have practised here.

At a ‘braai’, massive amounts of meat are cooked on a grill over hot coals, including ‘borewors’ (literally translated as ‘farmer sausage’ and comprising largely of animals that wouldn’t adhere to the combine harvester), kebabs, chops and ribs. The meat is consumed with salads (everything from potato to couscous to pasta to regular) and bread rolls.


We love this

We love this


But before any of this happens, you drink. Typically it’s beer, but in this field there are no rules. I’ve seen ol’ Tequila making an appearance more than once, ol’ Jagermeister too, Mr Jack Daniels, Mr Brandy-And-Coke (shiteloads of that), Mr Vokda-and-lime, Cane-for-the-pain, Mr Red-wine-and-coke / Mr Ketemba (also in high volumes) and even once, on a really fucked up occassion, Mr Clubman’s Mint Punch (never drink that).

So that’s where I ended up yesterday, Glaze’s braai for his birthday. There was a whole cast of crazy characters there, including Action Jackson, Alfalfa, Jenni-fuh, AbsaCouple, dude-who-looks-like-Rorschach, girlx, umm, oh yeah and Graum’s lady, who from now on shall be known as ‘Mercedes Moodley’ or ‘Mercedes M-Class’, or maybe just ‘M-Class’.

But before we arrived at the braai, this happened, I think you’ll enjoy this bit 😉

J-Rab was working yesterday so she had the car and I had to ask Jenni-fuh to drive me to Glaze’s braai. As we’re getting to the corner of Sandton drive and Grayston, a cop pulls us over. Jenni-fuh’s license disk isn’t in the bottom lefthand corner of her windscreen, it’s dead center, middle of the windscreen, right at the top, so I reckon the cop didn’t see anything where the license normally is and flagged us down.

Also, it’s expired. She’s got a new one, but it’s in her glove box and thus ‘not clearly displayed’.

The fuzz walked up to the passenger side, where I was sitting, so I winded down the window and greeted him.



SAPS - To protect and serve. And eat pap.

SAPS - To protect and serve. And eat pap.


“You know what’s wrong here my man?” the cop started.

“No?” I replied.

He looked at the windshield and was about to say where’s your license disk when he spotted it, quickly checked the expiry date on the license and grinned broadly.

“This license is no good,” he said, still grinning.

At that Jenni-fuh opened the glovebox and started rifling through the junk there, so I join in and after a second or two we found her new license disk she hasn’t had a chance to stick up yet.

He checked it and saw it was legit, but wasn’t quite done with us.

“Do you know what is the fine for not displaying your license?” he asked, and started paging through this printed out list of offences he was carrying.

I braced myself.

“Five hundred rand,” he said.

“No, no, no way,” I said to him, “I’m sorry, but we can’t afford that,” Jenni-fuh also chimed in at this point, confirming this fact. We were both pretty animated, definitely over-acting for everything it was worth.

Then he looked at all the booze at my feet and saw a half-drunk bottle of Vodka from the night before in a plastic bag with lime and four Coronas, all tinkling around nice and loud everytime I moved.

“Have you been drinking?” he saids, quite happy with his new find.

“No,” Jenni-fuh and I replied. Jenni-fuh lied though, she’d had a Voddie to try take the edge off her killer hangover, and still felt a little drunk from the night before.

“This stuff is for the braai we’re going to,” I replied cheerfully, “I think you must come, when do you knock off?”

He laughed and said not until later. He asked to see what was in the packet. I showed him the Vodka and Corona. He seemed interested in the Corona so I explained it’s Mexican beer and clicked over to PR mode and told him it was the most incredible beer I had ever tasted, it was a perfect balance of sweet and bitter, it was the only beer I ever drank, it didn’t give me hangovers.

His curiosity was peaqued, this was a good thing. I offered him the beer.

“Take it my man, try it, it will be the best beer you’ve ever tasted, no shit.”

“Yes, but later I need more. I want the Heineken 6 pack.”

This confused the crap out of me and Jenni-fuh. Ok, he wanted Heineken, were we supposed to drive to the store and get him some? Give him money for some? Was he looking for a bribe?

“Ummm…” I said.

“I’ve got some money, not much, lemme check,” Jenni-fuh stammered. She opened her wallet and found a whopping thirty bucks, I had nothing on me, not even a ball of lint.

“Thats fine, that’s fine,” the cop replied, bizarrely enough.

We gave him a Corona and thirty bucks and he let us go.

🙂 I love this fucking country 🙂


One of these + R30 = Get Out of Fine Free Card

One of these + R30 = Get Out of Fine Free Card


Fast forward to the braai and I’m back on that big ol’ train, riding that beast, that mean hunk of old steel, flames licking up the wheels, but I ain’t sitting in that demon bastard, I’m sitting on that demon bastard, whippin’ it’s rusted hide, urging it down faster.

Downdowndown, like always, the train to Fuckedville. Toot toot, off we go!

Conversation fluctuated and I spoke to one person, then the next, then the next, then found the laptop and spent pretty much all afternoon building a sick playlist. At some stage I took this picture, our spaceship was approaching a White Dwarf, it attacked us completely without provocation and dissolved most of the known reality around us into white light.


The White Dwarf that Attacked Us, Unprovoked

The White Dwarf that Attacked Us, Unprovoked


And all the while, rain fell outside, sometimes hard and fast, sometimes slow and soft, but from about half an hour after we arrived until 7 or 8 last night it rained. We holed up in the entertainment room by the pool at Glaze’s place going outside only to smoke and braai the meat.

Groups formed, dissolved and formed again, that ever-fluid interaction that is common when people gather together to party.

And new and different thoughts come to you, somehow the world has more magic and things, even normally arbitrary things hold a special significance at that exact time and in that exact place.

The smoke through the light, the pattern in an ashtray, the verse of a song, the light off a knife.


Knife Light At Dusk

Knife Light At Dusk


Later a vote was taken to walk to the pub around the corner, McGintys and have a few drinks and watch the rugby. Good times ensued – we were by far the rowdiest table in the bar and definitely the only table that didn’t give a toss about the rugby.

J-Rab met us there after work and Peggles and PGF (Peggles Girl Friend) also joined for the last 10 mins of the game. We ordered a shiteload of these reddy-yellowy tequila cocktails I don’t remember the names of and laughed a LOT about all kinds of stuff (specifics get vague at this point).

But what I do remember was taking this pic on the way over to McGintys of a bogenvillia we found (definitely spelled wrong):


Adventures in Wonderland

Adventures in Wonderland


After the rugby game we didn’t watch we headed back to Glaze’s place and resumed where we’d left off, but soon people started dropping like flies around us. We didn’t stay much longer cause it had been a hard day’s boozin and I was starving half to death and dead tired, staring mainly at the table in front of me.


Head --> Table

Head --> Table


We ate pizza, J-Rab and I, we walked into The Benmore Shopping Centre and tried not to look conspicuous, her in a pair of dark, red-framed heart shaped sunglasses and me a total mess, eyes like piss-holes in snow.

We were like Bonny & Clyde in that moment, Micky and Malory Knox, fucking Sunny and Cher. We went home, held each other close, and dropped like two stones into sleep.


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