Last Saturday afternoon I stood on Mbolekwa Street in Dlamini, Soweto, with a couple of hundred other spectators, watching teenage boys spinning around on super-long, low-slung bicycles. Most of the bikes didn’t have brakes, or even seats in some cases. The bikes were almost double the length of normal bicycles and their back tires were wrapped in cut-up plastic bottles.

The performers took turns riding their bikes about half a block down the street, then looped back and pedaled toward the spectators, picking up speed and balancing forward on the handlebars. Then they abruptly stopped pedaling, turned their front wheels, and posed as the back wheels arced slowly around behind them, plastic crackling on the dry pavement.

As the wheels spun, the riders jauntily tipped and flipped their hats, gestured and waved, or extended one arm forward in a graceful, reverse C.

Eventually pairs of cones were set up and the riders began to spin in tighter loops, jerking the back of the bike around quickly and slipping between the cones in reverse — a trick called “kitchen”.

At one point a minibus taxi tried to pull through the spinning circle. A couple of cyclists made eye contact with the driver and he smiled at them through the windshield, presumably putting the taxi into neutral. The cyclists approached the front of the taxi and pedaled madly, rear wheels spinning, as the taxi drifted slowly backward.

Everyone in the crowd — including me — was mesmerized, intermittently cheering and falling silent with awe.

But spinning was only half the fun at this Dlamini event. The other half was the dozens, maybe hundreds, of shiny, souped-up bikes that were there not for spinning but for showing off. The bikes were painted in a kaleidoscope of colors, gleamed with polished chrome, and had little stuffed toys and signs hanging off the back with sayings like, “Eish nice ne!” and “Hate me see if I care.” Many of the bikes had custom spokes, outlandishly tall handlebars, and fat speakers mounted on the back, some of which pumped out kwaito tunes.

This culture of transforming normal bicycles into low-riding works of art is called “stance”. There are several different kinds of competition involved in stance, including racing, speaker contests, and a rating process in which a random spectator is chosen to score each bike based on its craftsmanship and looks.

This event was hosted by the Soweto Street Fighters, a crew of young cyclists in Soweto who are pioneers in the subculture of spinning. I don’t feel at all qualified to explain this complex subculture after attending one event but I’m doing my best. For more information and great photos, check out this 2021 Daily Maverick article by Oupa Nkosi. There are also tons of videos on YouTube and Tiktok.

What Are Spinning and Stance?

On Sunday I spent some time talking to Percy Zimuto and Navan Kamodzi, members of a new bicycle crew in Brixton called the Sentech Croozers. They did their best to teach me about spinning and stance, and I’m doing my best to briefly explain what they taught me without sounding like a Gen-X grandma.

This subculture, which developed in Soweto at some point over the past decade or so, emerged from another spinning subculture called gusheshe. (I have never properly blogged about gusheshe but there are some photos in this 2018 2Summers post.) Gusheshe, which translates literally to “panty dropper”, refers to an underground sport in which a driver spins a BMW 325i around in crazy circles, creating huge amounts of smoke, and climbs out of the car while it’s spinning (yes, you read correctly) to stand on the window frame, hood, roof, etc.

Bicycle spinning evolved when kids who are too young to own cars wanted to spin, too. “Since we’re young, we can’t drive, so we’re gonna go and make our own bikes and make them souped up,” explained Percy, who is 17. Percy bought and transformed his first stance bike a year or two ago and has been working on it ever since.

This phenomenon began in Soweto, as many of South Africa’s coolest trends tend to do, but it’s spreading to other townships like Tembisa and Katlehong. Percy also sent me a really cool video from India, where kids extend their bikes with scrap metal and spin them in a similar way.

Perpetual transformation is a big part of owning a stance bike. The original change-over involves stripping the bike down to its basic frame, without gears, brakes, or any other mechanisms, so you can mold it into exactly what you want. Every time Percy wants to change the color of his bike, he burns it over a fire until the paint melts off, then sprays it again. A lot of barter goes on between stance bike owners, who trade various parts and decorations to keep their bikes evolving.

About the Sentech Croozers

I’m really excited about the Sentech Croozers, the crew that Percy and his friends have started in my home suburb of Brixton. They have a brand-new Instagram channel — please follow it. Also they are planning an event in Brixton at some point in the near future — please keep an eye out my social media and theirs for announcements about that.

One last call to action: If you live in the Joburg area and have a bike you’re not using, please get in touch with me or send a message via the Sentech Croozers Instagram. These guys are bike repair wizards and they will take any bike, no matter the size or condition it’s in. Let’s help them build their fleet.

Also, please check out my reel. That’s all!

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