Today is a good day. I am printing Hitler with his Rhythm Stick... a design not many people dig but a design I worked really hard at. I chat with the owners of the printers for a while... they're plenty busy and that suits me fine... bringing my work into a nicely oiled concern where all the teeth and grooves are meshing sweetly is a bonus... then I walk back out with the Hitler Ts, having deposited a load for Ou Skool. Things are ticking and I even whistle as I walk back to the corner of Ark Wright and Loo-is Boota where I catch another combi back into town.
The interchange between Meat Too Nice Rank and Bree Rank goes smoothly. I get out of the cab on Ntemi Peliso and then all fucking hell breaks loose. I'm at the intersection of Ntemi and Sauer (Sawyer pronounced Sour) when 2 3 4 gunshots go off to my left, about 50 meters away, and people scatter... The crowds are thick here, bru... not like one or two people in clumps but thick, gooey urban stew, do you know what I mean, and you can see them all move as one animal, out and AWAY like to-fucking-day, OK? I scarper quick, it's funny how that happens.. your mind doesn't need much of an invite. Shots = Fuck Off!. 7 or 8 more shots go off as I run bowed around the corner, between a bus and a combi then out across the street to the other side, people scarpering with me. More shots, and now sirens. The cavalry has arrived but I ain't waiting around. Some people don't seem too phased and turn to watch the show, but I've got better things to do with my life and I'm outtathere. I skirt the park and move past some guy who's looking back.
- shots, I tell him
- they're standing for Malema, he says and laughs.
yeah, I bet they are... the Africa I know is not the Africa I am told, and times are changing quickly, perhaps. I make my way around Bree, cross the Mandela Bridge, whereever he is, and find a combi to Cresta from outside the old FoodyX.
This is not the first time shots have been fired at Bree. I remember walking towards the Cresta lane and seeing cops chalking round 9mm casings, a handful of them. Jerry Springer crowds minus the pretension looking on. It's just one of the things we do... if we can... we carry on and ignore the signs, besides the ones that take us home.
Those we follow religiously.
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