LAST ROUND
As one of Joburg’s oldestbars closes, reflections bring both nostalgia and much-need closure for a generation.
Phrases such as “all good things come to an end” and “die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain” are applicable to Kitchener’s closure. A haven of nightlife for many, but for some, one that had overstayed its welcome. As hundreds of patrons flooded to Braamfontein for the last Saturday groove at one of Joburg’s oldest bars (est. 1906), me included, many expressed sadness at the end of an era, with some wishing the night would never end.
The truth is that the era ended a while back. We just needed closure (pun intended) to really let it go. It was a space that symbolised a particular time in our youth, which has long since gone. Kitchener’s is the shoe you grew into and eventually out of. But what is represented is eternal. For all its nostalgic appeal, the building infrastructure was neglected; its prime target market, who resonated with its associated sociopolitical leanings, have left the studentcentric Braamfontein and, crucially, “wokeism” (particularly as it had manifested initially there) is no longer in vogue.
It would be unfitting to understate the sociopolitical allure of Kitchener’s. Though named after a contentious colonial figure, at its peak in the last decade, it grew to become a rugged sanctuary for far-left youth who wanted to party as fervently as they debated Fanon’s writings and indulged in Bob Marley’s favourite herb.
From New York’s Studio 54 in the 1970s, to Hillbrow’s Skyline in the 1980s, there are many examples of how ideological underpinnings form the foundations of what brings loyal patrons together to a space.
Elias Canetti’s crowd theory, as described by Anna Aizman in her October 2013 Hypocrite Reader journal article titled “Crowd Theory”, wrote, “Crowds are the social formation that heals us. Crowds liberate us from the fear of being touched. They also remove commands.”
That description encapsulates the essence of Kitchener’s, Studio 54, Skyline and other culturally significant spaces. A home for “the other,” those who are overlooked and under-appreciated by society.
Counter-cultural musical acts such as Boyzn Bucks and Moonchild Sanelly cut their teeth on its notoriously sticky carpet floors. Comedians such as Tats Nkonzo and Robby Collins test-ran some of their best jokes on comedy nights, and many clothing, arts and craft designers and retailers sold their first items at their Saturday markets.
Joburg-based female DJs got their breaks thanks to DJ training initiatives by the Pussy Party hosted at Juta Street’s most culturally laden spot. A consistent theme at these spaces is the queer community’s affinity with them.
As a queer man, Kitchener’s played an important role in my growth and self-acceptance. It was there that I first saw queer folk commune safely (to varying degrees for all). Those bathroom stalls will always be dear to my heart as a personal heritage site where a fresh-faced 19-year-old version of me had his first Nancy Reagan “throat goat” experience. TMI? Probably, but that was Kitchener’s. A space where literally, anything could and would happen. Not only good things.
Like most nightlife establishments, sexual harassment and rape culture sometimes showed up to stench up the party. There were incidents of sexual violence that went unchecked under the guise of it being a woke “safe space”.
These incidents highlight the need for a radical shift in nightlife culture. Even initiatives like pronoun choice and safe space disclaimer signs by Pussy Party organisers weren’t enough to fundamentally change the culture. Sometimes, you need to bring it down to bring it up again.
Though some social platform users declared “Braam is dead” after Kitchener’s closing, there remain establishments with a daring perspective on nightlife and fun in the area. MamaKaShaka & Friends, the new “programmed space” situated where the Great Dane bar once was, is the antithesis of what that corner of De Beer and Juta streets was known for.
“It felt like there was an imbalance in Braamfontein. We want to be part of the establishment owners who balance it again,” explains owner, Nandi Dlepu. “An urban narrative should be an inclusive one. We need to build sanctuaries close to where we live — we aren’t all groove.”
Spaces like MamaKaShaka & Friends should offer excitement and give an idea of how Braam can be reborn. This is a win for both the nostalgic millennials and the burgeoning Gen Zs who now frequent Braamfontein.
The shoe may no longer fit, but you can mend it and hand it down to your TikTokcrazed younger sibling. After all, you got your shoe from your Gen X uncle who tore up Joburg CBD when Pitch Black Afro was as big as Madonna.
X user @ma_fatshe summed it up perfectly; “of course Kitchener’s is closing. Its main clientele went and became parents.” The woke generation has grown up and the places in which they jol should reflect that.
It’s the people who make the party. As long as likeminded and generational groups have each other, there shouldn’t be a need to hold on to Kitchener’s.
It was a good run of cheap drinks, sardine-like dance floors and random cyphers with dreadlocked wannabe rappers. Kitchener’s might be closed, but thinking of the parties we had there will remind us of our youth. I hope you got your last round.