#Culture

Last night I returned from OppiKoppi, South Africa’s largest and most legendary music festival.

“Oppi Koppie” means “on the hill” in Afrikaans.

About 20,000 of us gathered for three days on a dusty farm in rural Limpopo province. We listened to dozens of mostly South African musical acts of multiple genres; most of them were good, and some of them were outstanding. We camped out. We inhaled massive amounts of dust. We peed in prickly thorn bushes. We danced, and we got lost, and we walked, for miles and miles and miles. We did not shower. We made lots of new friends.

Remember three days ago, when I was sitting on the porch in my pajamas at 7:30 a.m.? Those days are gone.

SNOW. Like, real snow. In South Africa.

As the South Africans say, “Sho!” (Roughly meaning, “Wow!”)

A few years ago, I wandered into a sports arena in Virginia’s D.C. suburbs and discovered roller derby. The Cherry Blossom Bombshells and Scare Force One – the top two teams in the DC Rollergirls league – were cruising around an indoor skating track, elbowing one another, dodging body checks, wiping out, and getting right back up again. It was a kick-ass dance on wheels. The skaters wore short skirts, heavy makeup, and fishnets. There were lots of tattoos, blue and pink hairdos, and bruises.