STAN ENGELBRECHT

Chedino Rodriguez, 1st Runner-up

The MC introduces Chedino to a captive Bonteheuwel audience as the ‘future mayor’ of Cape Town. ‘Once I had this question at a competition,’ says Chedino, ‘they asked me: “Who is your favourite gay person, and why?” I don’t have a favourite gay person … my favourite gay person is all of those gays who had the courage to come out of the closet and be true to themselves in being whom and what they are. Because, depriving yourself of that, what’s it doing to you at the end of the day? Most gays commit suicide. Why? Because they cannot be who they want to be, thanks to society. There is nothing I want to change about myself. The reason is that in order for my community to accept me for the gay person that I am, I must first and foremost accept myself as I am.’

Tonight, Chedino tells her captive audience that she comes from Heideveld, a ‘small and homophobic’ part of the sprawling Cape Flats. When she strides back to the line of queens with a swing of her sleek black wig, she is well over six feet in stiletto heels. ‘Partially, I do say that I am a woman in a man’s body. Even my mother told me once that when she was carrying me, she was hoping it was going to be a girl. She got what she wanted!’

Sam Manganye

‘Winning Mr HIV/Aids-Awareness was the best thing that’s ever happened to me … because it’s good to win something; good to be a winner … I feel like a hero. I feel like a president. I feel like I can control everyone. I feel like a giant. And everyone was checking me up and down, hugging me, kissing me – even my competitors, they were so happy for me … it was so good ….’

‘My age-group, they are so ignorant – in the sense that they kill themselves. They like fast lives … they like to imitate other people. And they like to compromise their values, their dignity, where they’re coming from – because of peer pressure… I’m an eyewitness, and it’s so embarrassing and so bad. I don’t want to lie … Teenagers, they are not abstaining, they are not … I cannot understand the main reason, but I think it’s this generation – there’s something wrong. It’s pressure. Those who are educated and those who are illiterate, when they get money it’s one thing: party.’

Nyameka Ntaba

‘When you see yourself in the newspaper, you see yourself as a different person. You say: “I never knew I was this beautiful!”’

‘I told myself that if I win and manage to get paid, I’m going to buy my own dress. Because every time I always have to borrow a dress, and sometimes they turn you down and say: “Why don’t you have your own dress?” I cannot explain that I have to borrow a dress because I am desperate. You have to accept the life that you live; that is what my grandma always told me. That is why I am who I am; because I accepted the life that I live. Sometimes there is no food to eat, but I wouldn’t go out and sell myself. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve got what it takes. I believe in myself,’ says Nyameka

Michael ‘Shakes’ Pluck

‘The life that I’ve led wasn’t that good – but I enjoyed myself. Bikes showed me a part of my life, something to live for… There is that bit of freedom that you can get … there’s no restrictions. With a helmet on, nobody can recognise you. It’s another zone. It’s a whole different feeling. I was the only poephol that took his clothes off; running around in my g-string – that was Mr Dare!’ For his efforts, Michael receives a plastic crown, a bottle of Amarula, a bottle of wine, a keyring. ‘I’m in lots of fights. You must see what my hands look like for fighting. These days you get locked up for anything – but I like to fight; I enjoy that. I get a kind of sick satisfaction out of it. These guys in Upington, they push. We kick the shit out of each other … I like adrenaline, I enjoy it…’

Jotham Dlomgolo

‘We started this thing many years ago … The swankers were born to the scathamiya groups, because we used to sing at night. Now, when it’s 12 o’clock, we weren’t allowed to go in the street, because at that time … apartheid … we needed passes or permission. We wouldn’t walk in the street … because the police can arrest you. So that’s why we started swanking when we finished singing…’

The scathamiya, traditional Zulu a cappella choir groups, draw from a spiritual mix of Zulu culture and Zionism to recount moral fables and life-lessons through vocal harmony and dance. It was some 60 years ago that the oswenka competitions sprung up from the singing competitions that took place among mainly Zulu mine workers in Johannesburg hostels. The donning of suits and finery amongst these working class men was a form of defiance then. But today, the swankers are the epitome of gentlemanly conduct and old-fashioned values, modelling themselves on the virtues of cleanliness, self-respect, sobriety, good behaviour, style. If you saw Jotham Dlomgomo on the streets of Johannesburg, you would know him for what he is: a worker; a migrant labourer. But Jotham cultivates another image: ‘I am a gentleman.’

Nelisiwe ‘Junior’ Mbatha

‘I wish my parents would accept me one day.’

The Kismet Hotel is a faded seventies-glam establishment in the Indian part of downtown Pietermaritzburg. The Gay Sobantu pageant came to the Kismet after neighbouring Sobantu township (the place that lent the occasion its name and for whose gay youths the event was intended) proved too dangerous a location for gay boys to go dragging or lesbian girls to save themselves from a beating. To appease her parents, Junior wears a skirt once a week to church on a Sunday morning. The rest of the time, she wears androgynous sports clothing or men’s casual wear, because this is what makes her feel comfortable. It’s hard to miss her confident strut, her boyish gait, her challenging gaze. It’s the kind of look and attitude that can get a girl into trouble. Like the time Junior’s girlfriend was beaten up in front of her by a group of young men who derided the two shouting: ‘Istabane … istabane.’ It’s the same word that she and her girlfriend hear at the taxi ranks; the same word that they did not want to hear from the local police officers, and so did not report the incident. Istabane is the word that most offends Junior; a word best translated from the Zulu as ‘hermaphrodite’.

Junior came to the Kismet tonight to show off her true self. The fire inside her that makes Junior beautiful, confident, true, was rewarded by a panel of judges and a roomful of peers. Junior walks her truth on the streets every day – so if she chooses to hide her satin sash, then that is her right. ‘When I won, I felt very happy – but I was scared of the guy from The Mirror newspaper because he was going to put me in the paper and my parents would see.’ – Mr Gay Sobantu, Junior Mbatha