I don’t usually go to an event where I’m sure I know A LOT of people, especially people from uni. There are too many ghosts. ‘Ghosts’ are people who knew you before you got an actual fashion sense, got a job and started making good dating decisions, actually ghosts are mainly the bad dating decisions you made in your naive varsity past. Homecoming Picnic is the best/worst place for these kinds of run-ins to happen because it is generally a jump (definition: really awesome soshe) and if there’s one thing all those bad dating decisions have in common, it’s knowing how to party. So regardless of the cons, the one big pro – plus my best friend Phiwee emotionally blackmailing me – sealed my HCP fate and I found myself at the Centurion Rugby club with a cooler bag and even cooler clothes on my back.
The event was well attended, and I might be understating that, with a nice little popular line-up featuring Pretoria’s beloved Kuli Chana, who I think I’ve only seen twice before. The host person, I think it’s called MC and I honestly don’t care, was Nomuzi from Mtv or whatevs and she was awesome because she did quite a bit of mc-ing coupled with quite a bit of ‘soft-twerking’ – a term coined by my other friend Juliet. I’ve been hearing about Homecoming Picnic for a while now but it was my first time going, because why not? I’m almost too old to go and nothing could have said that better than all the post-teen bad b*tches in twerking pants/printed leggings I was drowning in. True to form, I was also kinda drowning in ghost related things. I shall not dwell. Reason was really good, as usual. I mean, the dude really just makes me wanna watch and not walk around looking for alcohol or an ex, which is the best!
I came across the Cognac Conjure for the first time, very ‘ballin out of control’ and very not my thing, but it tastes fine enough. Night time came and it became a bit out of control. Male hormones and steroids took control, possible grinding babies, I got lost, everyone got lost… It was like a mosh pit of epic proportions, and I have those Malatji boys and their peoples to thank for all of that unorthodox fun. I might be bullied into going again next year… 😉
Photo courtesy of Nami I Was There