Here Comes Treble: Wiggling And Wobbling For Charity
...Our club’s theme was ‘Manto’s Vegetable Garden’ – a tongue-in-cheek chuckle at the South African Minister of Health’s ridiculous proposition that HIV and AIDS can be better addressed with fresh vegetables than anti-retro-viral medication. We wore headgear made of cabbage leaves and sun-hats dangling onions, garlic cloves and beetroot from the brims. Necklaces of African potatoes, known as madumbis, bumped on our chests, and purple aubergines dangled from our ears, commented on with envy by many ladies from other clubs.
The walk took us, for a short way, along the edge of a golf course, then uphill through the suburbs, past beautiful homes with manicured lawns, hiding behind high stone walls. Huge dogs rushed to the tall barred gates, barking fiercely as the crowd flowed past like a huge, human river. At intersections, marshals waving red flags smiled and thanked us for participating as they held the traffic at bay....
Isabel Bradley and her husband Leon join the wigglers and the wobblers in the annual charity hat race organised by Johannesburg's Pirates Running Club.
It was seven-thirty on a Sunday morning. Wet grass squished under our running shoes as we crossed the parking lot to the crowded drive-way. Warm rain trickled down many necks from the most bizarre collection of hats and costumes ever worn by a multitude of runners and walkers. Thankfully, the rain soon stopped and the midsummer sun shone on steaming roads.
Annually, Pirates Running Club hosts the ‘Wigglers & Wobblers Hat Race’. Many running clubs in the greater Johannesburg area participate in this fun event, each choosing a theme for their team’s hats. Prizes are awarded to the club with the best hat theme, and to individuals for the most imaginative hats. No-one wins a prize for crossing the finishing line first; in fact, most people walk the route.
As we walked with eight-hundred or more walkers past the starting point, we tried to identify various themes. There was a small group wearing black running-gear and London Bobbies’ hats, carrying plastic truncheons. A large group of perhaps twenty people were dressed in a combination of shocking pink and black, with hooks for hands, skulls and cross-bones on pirates’ hats, greasy wigs and fierce false teeth; they slashed at each other with plastic sabres, and occasionally dropped large silver hoop earrings on the steaming road. Another group wore red Christmas hats with white fur around them.
Our club’s theme was ‘Manto’s Vegetable Garden’ – a tongue-in-cheek chuckle at the South African Minister of Health’s ridiculous proposition that HIV and AIDS can be better addressed with fresh vegetables than anti-retro-viral medication. We wore headgear made of cabbage leaves and sun-hats dangling onions, garlic cloves and beetroot from the brims. Necklaces of African potatoes, known as madumbis, bumped on our chests, and purple aubergines dangled from our ears, commented on with envy by many ladies from other clubs.
The walk took us, for a short way, along the edge of a golf course, then uphill through the suburbs, past beautiful homes with manicured lawns, hiding behind high stone walls. Huge dogs rushed to the tall barred gates, barking fiercely as the crowd flowed past like a huge, human river. At intersections, marshals waving red flags smiled and thanked us for participating as they held the traffic at bay.
After about five kilometres of hot and sweaty uphill walking, the ‘watering’ point was reached. It provided a welcome pause and a vast supply of beers. The traditionally alcoholic content of the refreshments has given its nickname to this event: Wigglers and Wobblers. It is said that, from the half-way mark, men wobble and women wiggle their way back to the Finish Line.
From here on, the course was downhill all the way. One woman ran past us; “You’re running!” commented Leon, “that has to be points off for cheating!” The runner justified her speed by saying, “The coppers are after me – they’ve been drinking!” We turned to see the men and women in black, with their Bobby hats firmly on their heads, jogging behind us, waving not only their truncheons, but cans of low-alcohol lager!
As we neared the end-point, each club, whose members had dispersed into various amorphous social groups, regrouped so that they could march into Pirates’ grounds together, illustrating their themes not only wearing their hats but carrying heavy banners that had been borne the entire ten-kilometre route by strong and loyal members.
This year’s Hat Race, as it is every year, was a resounding success. Each participant enjoyed themselves enormously, and a generous amount was raised for yet another good cause.
It was worth sacrificing our Sunday morning lie-in to greet friends in the cool morning rain and participate in one of Johannesburg’s increasingly-famous annual events: the Pirates’ Wigglers and Wobblers Hat Race.
Until next time: “here comes Treble!”
THE END
By Isabel Bradley
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