(One two three four.)
First verse. It doesn’t get any worse. Me and Missing Link on the floor with guitars. We are family. We’re up against the door, by the stage, beside the girls. In the name of Jesus Christ we were blessed at birth. Family. Only space in the house. Family.
We are family. Pata Pata come to praise. (I know it I know it I know it.) We family! Missing Link is polite on his nerves. Siya bear him load. Inan’out from di road. Family. Electronics bring the people to a night in the town. Monday Blues, Maboneng. The Soil upon the stage…
(Know it I know it I know it.)
Joy! Jo-o-o-y! Jo-o-o-o-o-y!
I know it’s the kind of feelin’
Missing Link nurse a drink, just the one to ease the nerves. The Soil play a fourth “last song” in a row.
I got love in my heart. I got love in my heart. And you know it’s the kind of feeling. Mama wam ndiyabu-le-la!
(A got my mother-my-father-my-sister-my-lover!)
Master P want to say that today the born day. Thixo wam wakudala!
Namhl’ ek’seni. Ilanga libeth’ebsweni. Ndahamba nday’ecaweni. A capella get down as down can ever get and the audience is swooning. Lovely ladies in the house got the songs verbatim! Usis’thandwa sam, You! Get up and dance! Now, you! Get up and dance and get as down as you can. Family. I’m saying this coz we are family. Family. I got joy in my heart. I got love in my heart. I got joy in my heart. And you know it’s the kind of feelin’… We are family. Family. We are family. I know it, I know it, I know it. We are family.
We come to praise. We come to know. We come to play our maiden show. UBongeziwe udlal’ingom’ethi uGunuza! Family! We come to stand outside. Shake the hand of a man, be smokin’ all that time. Coz we are family!
Family. Family. Family.
Meanwhile, in a twitterverse far away, racist bile vomits across cyberspace, as the repulsive, the evil and the stupid fight for microphone time with the self-righteous and the cuntish.
Bigotry rides side by side on your timeline with wilful ignorance; condescending sarcasm passes for communication. The deaf fight the dumb. Everybody talks shit and nobody listens. Griffiths Mxenge died so spoilt children could spit on his grave.
But also for this…
Coz we are family! Family! Family!