When Zululand party animals are on the loose

IN the 80s and 90s, house parties in Zululand were big, mostly because we did not have movies, an ice rink, ten pin bowling, a games arcade or anything which qualified as ‘entertainment’ in city terms.

Mike’s Kitchen had an eat-as-much-as-you-can prawn and rib special for R30, where you could really eat as much as you could, so it was not economically viable for long, especially because it was very well supported by the first rugby team and RJ’s bouncers.

Empangeni once had a miniature golf course, which was a bone dry patch of land in the scorching sun, called ‘Miniature Golf Course’ and a drive-in, where we watched Crocodile Dundee, Rambo I and II and Schucks it’s Schuster.

Then it closed down.

If you did not like fishing, you were stuffed for sure, unless you had imagination and innovation.

So Zululanders, out of necessity, became experts in self-entertainment, with various degrees of success and crowd turn-out.

One particular time, I remember our entertainment committee of mostly boys, consuming two large bags of Mozambican peanuts and holding a farting contest, which we had to judge by smell and stamina. Some of them were very long-winded.

Some events were surprisingly newsworthy, and hence ended up on the Zululand Observer front page.

Others were censored, because the editor also doubled as a man of the cloth and a counseller (the way small-towners have to) and as such was ironically entrusted with news which had to by all means be kept out of the paper.

One such a case was a distress call from the local ‘featherbed queen’, when a good, elderly doctor had a heart attack and died at a private party – for two in the establishment of ill repute.

The poor physician literally did not know whether he was coming or going during his untimely departure.

His hostess frantically tried to resuscitate him, but later found solace in the knowledge that his last moments were happy ones.

The official story, kindly conveyed to family and children by the man of the cloth, was that the distinguished gentleman died on the sidewalk in front of the establishment while walking his dog.

Another nutty tale was the case of the married out-of-towner who refused to settle his private party bill and subsequently fell asleep in the lion’s lair.

He got more bang for his buck when his hostess performed a party trick with a threaded copper pipe around his joy stick.

Bad slip

The man ended up in the emergency room of the local hospital, where doctors had to exchange their surgical blades for an angle grinder, which subsequently slipped during the medically unorthodox procedure.

He had a lot of explaining to do to the medical aid. He also learned that in Zululand, the client is never right.

One day, so I am told, an American backpacker with a camera, dropped into the ZO and asked for a job.

Not sure how to utilise his considerable talents to the full, the editor gave him the standard rookie instruction: ‘Take photos at a school function and have them back before deadline’.

The American darted off with typical enthusiasm and self-confidence of the kind which some could mistake for arrogance or stupidity.

Hours after deadline, the editorial team was ready to phone search and rescue to track down a lost American in Empangeni, when suddenly baffling sounds of quacks and clucks and screeching wafted down the hallway.

The ‘lost’ American triumphantly returned from his nearby rural school party pushing a wheelbarrow full of a menagerie of farm animals and two pumpkins.

The guest speaker, he related with a twang, did not pitch up and the American valiantly volunteered to tell the Zulu-speaking pupils about schooling in America.

It remains unclear how the language barrier was overcome, although witnesses say that strange, sweet whiffs emanated from the impromptu MC.

He disappeared five days later without a trace. Like Boomer.

Also, some years ago, a Round Table couple yearning for a break, booked a romantic cruise away from children and especially Round Table friends.

They were enthusiastically waved off by their buddy, the crazy dentist, who ate glass as a party trick and was thus not a good example of dental health.

Although he was tasked with dropping them off in Durban with their suitcases, he insisted to also act as a porter and carried their suitcases on board.

The cruise set off – with a stowaway.

According to reports, the stowaway was the only one not particularly upset that he had to hide out in the romantic cabin for two, for five days, borrowing everything from sleeping space to a toothbrush.

As they say, what happens in Zululand, stays in Zululand.