Cam whoring with Celebs

so last week my friends coerced me to attend the Muslim 4eva Concert at the city hall. Normally I attend these kinda things because usually we do the sound for it, but this time around Kathrees was doing the sound- not that i'm bitter or anything, I firmly believe that Allaah gives rozi, all it meant was that I had to pay for tickets - Shit! I mean, you can carry on about how the money is going for a good cause and what not, but somehow that doesnt translate that well when i'm fifty rand poorer ( call me scrooge, but i just spent a whole lot on the xbox, so i've been thrifty of late.) So anyway - Masood ( big guy in black shirt standin next to Zain Bhikha) Seraj (Pin uP of Radio Al Ansaar) and I went for the concert. Growing up in this type of environment, means that you kinda know everyone from all the different muslim organisations. Soon you realise, when the same faces pop up everywhere that we really are an incestous little group of elitists ( but i'l save for another blog) Walking towards city hall, the first thing you notice is a huge white marquee (hmm, okay – a concert and a walima (well, I dot know why I was thinking about a walima, but anyway) so we enter the marquee to be greeted by a barrage of friendly and recognizable faces, from the ‘aunties who smile and say “hey betta, you that Azam Khan boy” to the younger crowd, who attend all these events. MMM- a confectionary stall selling fire-balls- gotta buy a pack or two. As we walked towards the entrance, I saw my friend ‘Uncle A.K Jingles’ and flagged him down like a New York taxi. “Uncle A.k”, I said, “Dawud Wharnsby is the shit, can I chat to him?” after taking a moment to decide whether I was being hostile or not, uncle A.k gave me a broad smile and escorted me to the back. Masood and Seraj weren’t about to miss out on this experience and came along. We sidestepped the security terminal and the metal detectors (damn, why did I leave my semi automatic machine gun at home!) and made our way to the back, trying hard not to act like prepubescent teenage girls at a Backstreet Boys concert. All the big pimps were chilling in the back- Zain Bhika, Dawud Wharnsby Ali, well… that was about it in terms of star power- some kids were also in the back, but they could have been props or something for all I know: P

It was heartening to note that even though his albums are globally renowned and that he has worked with top draws like Yusuf Islam and Rayhan, Zain’s first line of conversation hasn’t changed! After hugging me, he stood back and said “Mahomed Junaid, you really have grown since the last time I saw you”. Err – no man, I was the same height earlier this year, the same height when we met in December 2003. Sigh – I don’t blame him though- four Albums of more or less original Nasheeds can leave anyone burnt out. Spoke to Dawud for a bit, and obviously the first thing I asked was “The bubblegum song, (you know the sky is blue like the blue bubblegum, but it prays to Allah), tell me honestly, did you write it as a dare?” He smiled at me knowingly, like a father would smile at his son on his walima, and went into this whole “I find inspiration in nature spiel” the guy is a legend, legend I tell you! A few dirty stares from the organizers signaled to us that we overstayed our welcome, so after posing for a few superfluous shots, we left defiantly from the stage steps. A quick glance at the fifty rand ‘nose-bleed’ seats made me realize that at events like these, I aspire to be bourgeois, purely because they get the best seats, so I grabbed Seraj and without a shred of guilt, sat in the two hundred rand section- prime seating people- five rows from the front. While we waited for the show to start, Seraj got a bit nervous (I guess there are some hari poira’s left in the world, and he said, “MJ, what if this section is sold out”, “well”, I said , with just a smack of know it all ness that people sometimes translate as arrogance, “we’l just move to the 150 rand spot” Sorted. Scanning the ushers, I saw a bunch of familiar faces (here’s the incest bit again) Mak was there, the Quazi, Greaseball, and Akhi. I knew they wouldn’t give a shit if I sat in the two hundred rand section with a fifty rand ticket. Waiting for the show to start, I realized that there is something I need to do with my life before I’m thirty…wash my dog. (Not sure why I thought about that - my mind works in messed up ways).

Two friends were presenting, so I felt a ‘Nazjam I love you’ scream would help shatter any nervousness and stage fright. It appears that his father who was sitting three rows in front of me, thought otherwise. I guess this just egged me on, as I spent the night thinking of catchy things to scream, ‘nazjam 3:16’ and ‘word up to your mazhub’ after the rap being my favourites. First group to come on – Wahid, well, well, well. The guys were good solo, but somehow just didn’t gel as a group. The also reminded me of Nsync in that one chap was the main singer ala Justin Timberlake, while the others just kinda did backing vocals and the boring shit. Not like Backstreet Boys where every member contributed. Zain was cool, and he pleased the crowd with a few popular tracks. Although I must admit, it’s kinda hard distinguishing a few of his songs, as they sound so similar. So you left wondering, was that a pause, or is this a new single. Dawud Wharnsby Ali just did it for me – his quirky quips about converting to Islam, his messages to the youth, his integration of Hadith to explain his lyrics, and his wonderful voice really made it a worthwhile experience. What was quite cute is that he was really getting into the groove of his songs, tapping his feet, moving from side to side, doing a little shuffle. This made some of the more conservative members of the audience move around in their chairs nervously (some of them looked like they wanted to run home immediately and read two rakaats of Salaatul Taubah). we ended the night by taking popular songs and changing the words slightly, like instead off 'you cant take it with you when you go' we changed it to 'you can't get poonani when on haj' - an equally important message. The same with 'pizza in my pocket' to 'condom in my pocket' - We all have to do our bit