From Soweto, from the hilltops of initiation, Siphiwe ka Ngwenya adopts the mantle of Killjoy, dissecting our liberation, questioning our infatuations, baptizing us in the juicy waters of procreation. “Dance, Africa!” he cries, before hitting Hillbrow pavements parading brothels, singing for children whose anger and haste cannot be measured or bulldozed, singing for workers who brave themselves from darkness to darkness while the drumbeat serenades and bass strums compassionate, and then stroking the morning dew, turning poverty into fiction, cuddling loneliness, nakedness entangling with passion while commanding us to rise! to celebrate!