Die Antwoord is to your eyes and ears what a rusted nail is to a bare foot — once the initial pain and panic subsides and the tetanus shot administered. Well, maybe not like a rusted nail. Actually, I’m not really sure what they’re like. Immediately after viewing the video clip for their song Ninja, I cleaned my face and called a South African friend.
We drank into the early hours of the morning. The air was still pleasant and warm. Drum beats and guitars floated towards us over easy hills and dusty streets. It carried us to a tiny intersection lit by a small open fire. Around it swayed groups of travelling musicians. An erected telescope stood a little further on a grassy patch. A man was speaking to a small group while pointing to the sky with a green laser pointer. We sat close by the fire watching musicians play out of tune guitars and various bongos.
We pulled into a small settlement; a place with twenty or so small houses concentrated together with a tiny store. I walked to the outskirts and looked at the land falling in front of me. I passed caged pigs and cow skulls lying in the dirt. On numerous occasions I’d read that Patagonia houses a ferocious wind like no other land. To quote Bruce Chatwin: ‘it is a wind so fierce it strips men to the core’. Trees stood ripped and battered at some angle; one side bare, the other clutching at what branches remained preventing them from being ripped from the truck. The tops of the trees bent and cracked as if in an invisible arm wrestle. They had struggled with the wind since saplings.
Osv Aldo Furrer Vigneaux welcomed me into his small kitchen with enthusiastic hand gestures and a warm smile. He was stocky, balding and bounced when he walked. It was unassuming and homely. There were several medium sized pots on the stove and a young woman at the sink. It opened to a larger guest area that was filled with natural light. We spoke about his many dips and liquors. He had particular favourites and passionately informed me of the flavours and the inspirations of each. I was particularly interested in the pink coloured liquor containing a rose petal. He assured me I could taste it but first wanted to show me his ‘baby olive trees’.
I’m writing this sitting in the driveway of one of the most magnificent hostels and neighbourhoods I’ve had the privilege to visit. Seagulls fly overhead, and in front of me, to the end of the driveway, lies a view of the Pacific Ocean. The sun reflects against the peeling white paint of the hostel and neighbouring garage. It radiates heat but not enough for me to feel uncomfortable.
So I scoured the internet in search of an answer to this question: Who or what is Chris Dane Owens? And I found these choice quotes, instead: 1. It will take me hours to recover from the disorientation this video has induced. It’s like it’s 1985 all over again. In Narnia.