Berea backlash
THE PROSPECTORS are still very busy on the Berea. They dig holes and redig them, in the middle of roads, in the middle of pavements. They erect around their work little latticed barricades in fluorescent orange.
Some say they are mining precious metals. Others say they are from Telkom and are putting in fibre-optic cables, which seem to be in evidence in blue, green and yellow casings.
But last week something snapped. A reader describes the scene at the intersection of Currie and Marriott roads – where the road was being dug up again – where a smart car pulled up and a well-dressed Berea lady approached the work gang.
She proceeded to harangue them in tones that rose in pitch to something approaching hysteria. Then she grabbed a whole lot of digging tools that were lying about and flung them into the hole. Then she tore down the barricade tape, rolled it into a ball and flung it into the hole also.
Then she stomped off, got into her car and drove away.
The work gang and their supervisor simply gaped. They had answered not a word.
The Bluff? It's the Berea you don't mess with!
Synchronicity
I OWE ONE to the lads of the electricity department. They reunited me last Friday with my old pal Smelly Fellows, erstwhile owner of Sir Benjamin's Landing, that character pub that used to be in the old flying boat control tower at Wilson's Wharf.
It happened this way. About 4 pm there was a loud popping sound and all the lights at home went out. Investigation showed the same had happened at other houses in the cul-de-sac. It got reported. Nutting happened.
Came six o'clock and it was dark. It was cold. No food. No tea. No coffee. No TV. So with great reluctance I dragged myself off to the nearest boozer for company, warmth, entertainment and South Africa versus the West Indies on the big screen.
And who should I encounter there setting up the apparatus for music and merrymaking but the shaggily bearded Smelly, who is also a musician of renown. I had believed him to be in America. With him were female vocalist Sandy Jeffery and guitarist/vocalist Hans Dettman. Smelly had scratched together an ensemble at the last minute (I think they picked up Hans on the 'Toti highway). It was the first time they had been together as a group.
You wouldn't have thought it. This was superb stuff – rock, country, you name it – totally professional, and suddenly it occurred to me that the acoustics also had a lot to do with it. This particular boozer has a high, vaulted ceiling like a cathedral. So often a band blasts you right out of a bar. But this was just right, a wonderful combination.
The reason for the high, vaulted ceiling is that this pub was once a municipal power sub-station. And it was the electricity department that drove me there last Friday to experience this wonderful gig.
There just has to be synchronicity in it.
Correction
SMELLY Fellows points out to me that on previous occasions I have written about him I have misspelled his name, putting a second "e" into it that should not be there.
I am glad to correct this. For he's a jolly good fellowe.
Slivers of New Orleans
THIS is the second time in less than a week that I have chanced upon top-notch musical entertainment. A few days earlier it was guitarist Steve Fataar at a restaurant in Morningside. Every Tuesday there's a really lively blues session down at Wilson's Wharf with Will's Blues Band and Bobby and the Dynamites, plus a guest band. Tomorrow the guests are Sea Level. The place is always packed . And there are all kinds of jazz and other groups in Durban as well.
Little slivers of New Orleans. If the Football World Cup visitors go home remembering Durban for its music, they will be good memories indeed.
Tailpiece
A MOBILE library knocks down a pedestrian. As he lies groaning in the road with a broken leg, the librarian gets out.
"Shhhh!" she says.
Last word
The avoidance of taxes is the only intellectual pursuit that carries any reward.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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