The new-school rules of being cool

“Who’s that? Who’s that?”
He’s a short, podgy, bald guy.
“That’s M’du. Kwaito star. He’s pretty old-school. But he’s still cool. He did that song, Let’s Go 50-50 with Mandoza. And there’s Mandoza! There, there.”
Simone is getting her latest lesson in a course in Jo’burg hipness, courtesy of her colleague Gift. She’s cracked the nod as his partner at the record company’s end-of-year function. It’s at The Mix at Melrose Arch, the newest upmarket club in all of Jozi. That’s why they came.
Cool Rule 1: Upmarket is cool.
“Oh, ja! He looks familiar. So that’s Mandoza, hey.”
“Ja. He’s not the hippest guy here tonight, though. It’s mainly white people who listen to his music.
“Mandoza. But he’s crossover, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. White people listen to his music.”
“So who is the hippest guy here?”
“Zola, of course! Don’t you know anything?”
“I don’t know much, but Zola’s not playing tonight. Check the list. He’s not playing.”
Cool Rule 2: Read the invite..
“Mmm. He’s not hey. So the coolest person playing tonight would be, let’s see… Lebo. Ja, definitely Lebo. She’s the queen. You’ll see.”
Cool Rule 3: Afro-pop is way cool.
“And who’s that guy in the suit? The guy with the chiskop in the yellow suit.”
“Oh, him. I don’t know his name, but he’s the manager of one of the artists. Maybe Thando. Or Doc Shebeleza. He drives an A3.”
Cool Rule 4. Cars are mad cool.
“What’s an A3?”
“It’s an Audi.”
“Okay. So why don’t you call it an Audi A3.”
“You never say Audi A3.”
“Come, they playing my song. It’s Too Late For Mama.”
Cool Rule 5: You dance when they play Brenda.
The entire dancefloor begins stepping as one. Two steps to the right. Two steps to the left. Two steps back. Then they lean back twice, skip 90 degrees to the left and start again.
“I know this dance,” says Simone. “Isn’t it called the Codesa? Because you move backwards and forwards, but you stay in the same place.”
“Nah. I think it’s called the Bus. Because you move together.
Just then M’Du comes on the mic. “Yeah, come on. Everybody do the wedding dance.”
Cool Rule 6: I doesn’t matter what the dance is called.
“Let’s get drinks. Do you want me to go and find a waiter?”
“You could, but the bar’s wide open. Why not just go and order from the bar?”
Cool Rule 7: Don’t order from the bar.
“Come, the buffet’s open. Let’s go get some of that.”
“I thought we were dancing.” Simone is confused. “The song isn’t even finished.”
“Come, Baby. We’re done here. Let’s go check out the buffet tables.”
Cool Rule 8. When dancing, the goal is not to sweat. Less is more.
“Wow. That guy’s plate is so full, the food’s almost falling off it!”
“You see? Now that’s how you dish up!”
Cool Rule 9: More is better.
With the buffet nicely dealt with, our happy couple returns to the dancefloor, where the evening is reaching a peak with Lebo’s imminent arrival.
“Are you ready for Lebo?” screams the MC, to a slightly muted response. “I
can’t hear you,” he reiterates predictably. “Are you ready for Lebo?”
Lebo reluctantly takes the stage to only marginally improved cheers. As if to make a point, she proceeds to put on a show of blistering intensity. She and her dancers appear to be in some kind of trance. By the time they’re performing Music, her biggest hit, they’re rubbing themselves up against each other in a way Simone thought only a man could rub up against a woman.
Before the encore is over, she finds herself bumping hips with Gift and gyrating in a way directly attributable to the new queen of African pop.
By the time Lebo finishes, Simone is red in the face and shrieking. Gift has his shirt unbuttoned and is doing such a low-down kwassa-kwassa, his ass is touching the floor.
“Whooooo!” Simone screams, happier than she’s been since the time she won the fancy dress at Zuurberg Holiday Resort in 1989. “Lebooooo! Whooo! Lebooooooo!”
Cool Rule 10: There’s a time to stop being cool.