Rolling smoothly in the climate-controlled car, all tactile connection with this place is lost. The sound overcompensates and the car stereo, over and over again, reverberates on the doors as the speakers release the strains of an old Johnny Clegg album from 1987, from before things changed and when the road was probably still the same, still a well-maintained way of getting from one place to another. First, come the chants in Zulu, and, then, the electric guitar and drums. “It’s a cruel, crazy beautiful world. Everyday you wake up, I hope it’s a blue, blue sky.” Almost as campy as the track suits with geometric designs and converse high-tops that he and his Zulu band, Savuka, wear on the album cover as they perform the umzansi dance he was so famed for mastering at competitions in the townships. Despite the campiness, people dubbed Johnny “the white Zulu” because he raised awareness in a way that didn’t commercially exploit the cause; he was genuine. He came out with a new solo album last year, but he seems irrelevant without his Zulu band members, just another just another white guy who appreciates Zulu culture. The sky that he sings about, though, is still blue. Or, at least, that’s what he hopes. The implication being that, with a blue sky, at least this cruel crazy world will be beautiful. It never seemed like beauty was missing here, where the bright blue and green coax the eyes to shut on this long, lovely road cutting across it like a scythe.