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I've never
been to Sefton Park before. And I've never been to Africa. So…
this 'Africa Oye' festival was a bit of a double-whammy.
I'd also never been up early on a Sunday morning before. (Unless I
needed a wee.)
So, the fact that I'd had a 'late one' the night before didn't help.
I was up all night. Well, I had spent the Saturday 'playing out' all
day then went home for the crazy hedonistic Saturday night activity
of watching Casualty and eating a Chinese takeaway. And a family-sized
Battenberg cake. However, I was a bit narked to find out that Casualty
wasn't on, so I spent the evening sitting in the garden digesting
the amount of food that could have kept the nation of Cuba going for
a couple of weeks.
Anyhoo, back to this 'Africa Oye' thingy…
(Kelly
makes her apologies in advance for not writing much about the actual
festival)-Sod it, read….www.africaoye.com.
But anyway, as this section is about the BBC Bus, I'll bang on about
that for the next few paragraphs.
The
Big Yellow Bus was parked right under the Big Orange Sun. The Big
Yellow Bus turned into a Big Roasty-hot Oven. Kelly wished she hadn't
put jeans on, as she had the sweatiest ass going. Lovely.
Whilst
I'm not used to the hot summer heat, (easily-burned, pale-skinned
sweaty girl from St Helens)- It was pretty obvious to tell who was
from Africa and who lived just down the road.
No…not the language. No…not the amount of trips people
were taking to the ice-cream van. But…the fact that one guy
had a red woolly hat on, walking past a 'large lady' with a purple
bra-top thing, covering her many layers of nawks.
Cheryl,
the journalist who was on the Bus, asked me to help record an interview
she was doing. (You know, I'm here for work experience, so best
get off my arse and do some work.) So while Cheryl was outside interviewing
some bloke from Haiti, I had to go into the studio part of the bus
and press 'record'. Press record. That was all. Easy. But there
were loads of wires and buttons and lights and stuff, so pressing
record seemed a whole lot harder. However, I thought I'd pressed
the right one, and thought I was doing quite well. (If I say so
meself.) Until Cheryl had finished the interview. And it hadn't
recorded.
So,
crappy at the technical stuff, I went on to be nosy and see what
the kids who came onto the Bus were doing. One lad, (who shall remain
anonymous…as he wouldn't tell me his name), was playing some
car racing game on the internet. He kept losing, so I said he was
rubbish and that he drove like a girl. The abuse I then got from
this 12 year old boy… He told me to shut up because I had cheesy
feet, that I smelled of poo, that I was a loud-mouthed old woman
and he also called me a witch. (The size of my nose has absolutely
nothing to do with it…) He so wanted me. Plus, I couldn't have
smelled that bad, as he kept coming back. (Though only to call me
some more names.)
A group of girls who also came onto the Bus, started going all squealy
because they had found the 'Usher 4eva' website. Woohoo. I was more
chuffed by the 'CBeebies' site that some little lad was on. YOU
COULD MAKE BREAD!!! Though you couldn't eat it. That was the crap
part. This little bread making boy had his face painted like a lion.
A bit later on, he tried to lock me and Ed, (the Bus driver/computer
technical expert extraordinaire) in the Bus. Well he shut the door
on us, giggled then walked away. (He probably got all inspired by
'Born Free' and on behalf of all the lions in Knowsley Safari Park,
tried to cage us up instead.
Well
anyway, not much point you reading this. It doesn't tell you owt
about this Africa Oye.
So as I said before, read…www.africaoye.com
Words: Kelly Gill
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