KwaiCore is born.

My name is Senzo. I thought Ndonsa was crazy when he said we should start a new genre of music. Ndonsa originally played synth in a Hardcore Punk band. Strange, I thought, that someone like him was passionate about such a genre. I used to play percussion in an underground but upcoming Kwaito group. My good friend whom I've known for years, Gabisile, played bass with me. First, I asked Ndonsa why he would ever want to make such a strange collaboration. He answered, "We need to put what we've experienced into something tangible. You and I have this energy, this connection as musicians that I will never understand. We can make it work. Nobody has ever done it before. We'll be the first. C'mon. Let's make some KwaiCore." I couldn't believe my ears. I almost started laughing but I gave it some thought. I wanted to do it. It sounded fun and unique. A genre never done before. Two enemies becoming allies. We decided to make music that people all over the world would start to talk about. Light Hour would break through.

The countdown begins.

COUNTDOWN WEBSITE

Meeting Ndonsa.

It's frightening waking up in hospital and not knowing how you got there. The first time it happened to me, I thought I was dreaming. The sunlight coming in through the curtains gave the room a surreal quality. I no longer felt any pain. I was at peace. Everything was quiet. And then Ndonsa walked in. He asked me how I was. Bitter and confused as to why he was here, I responded in a cold manner. He had a deep cut on his forearm from where I had hit him with a broken bottle. I was staring at it when he put his hand on top of my knee and told me that we do bad things when we are lost. I told him that I wasn't lost, but he insisted that I was. I looked out the window, furious that he would even show his face at my bedside after the insults he threw at me the night before. The accounts of last night were slowly coming back to me, and after each memory made its way back, I felt even angrier. He apologized and told me that he'd been lost for a very long time, and that he was wasting his life away. He had been in and out of rehab for three months for marijuana and cocaine. He told me that he knew what he had to do to get his life back on track. To rid himself of the poison that had been inside him for so long. I sympathized with him after he told me this, but it still didn't excuse what he said to me. Insulting my race and cultural background. He apologized for that, too. I forgave him, also respecting the fact that he came to see me even though we were complete strangers. It was the start of an unplanned friendship which would give me an outlet for my creativity and talent I had been wanting for so long.