Prologue

The scene: Backsberg Wine Estate in Stellenbosch, in the Western Cape. Summer, Saturday the 18th December. There are four groups performing as part of the Sonic Summer festival: They are Locnville, Jax Panik, Goldfish and Die Antwoord. Die Antwoord have top billing, and I am here waiting anxiously for the chance to finally see this group perform live. The Goldfish set ends, and the crowd starts to chant. The Vuzu presenter has left the stage sobbing ‘This job is hard’, and her co-presenter looks eager to join her. This is not a friendly crowd. This is a menacing crowd, and they want blood. An image appears on the screen, it is the face of Leon Botha, a Cape Town artist and one of the oldest survivors of Progeria. His face is magnified onto a screen over ten metres high, and he stares at the audience, blinking slowly. Over the loud speakers there is a low rumbling chanting, a recording of Tibetan throat singers. The effect is chilling. The anticipation in the crowd is palpable. People are whispering things like ‘Come on’, Where are they?’ And still we wait. It has been five minutes, then ten, and the tension is building. Suddenly there is a puff of smoke and the lights change to vivid yellow and red, and there they are in white tracksuit with pointy white hoods. Ninja, Yo-Landi Visser and DJ Hi-Tek. Ninja is tall.