Spinning: South Africa’s Craziest Homegrown Motorsport

I have never had any interest in motorsports. I’ve probably watched less than five minutes of Formula 1 and NASCAR (combined) over the course of my entire life. I haven’t watched a single Fast and Furious film. I did go to a live car-racing event in Brakpan once, and it was okay. But now I’ve discovered spinning and it’s another story entirely.

Spinning, very briefly, is a South African sport that involves very fast cars – usually 1980s/90s BMW 3 series sedans, also known as gusheshe (which means “panty dropper”) – spinning in circles in streets or parking lots, making lots of noise and kicking up huge clouds of smoke as the drivers and passengers perform death-defying stunts.

Spinning originated a couple of decades ago in Soweto as a totally underground phenomenon, but it’s now huge throughout the country. It was even featured in a recent Showmax series called Spinners.

I’ve been intrigued by spinning since 2018, when I watched a demonstration by spin legend Jeff James in Soweto. I also got really into bicycle spinning, an off-shoot of car spinning, several years ago after moving to Brixton, which has a bike spinning crew called the Sentech Croozers. But I had never been to a proper gusheshe competition until a couple of weeks ago, when my friend Percy invited me to Spin Wars XL in Hartbeespoort.

Spinning as Described by a Clueless Old Person

I am not a car person, as most of you know, and I barely understand the rules of this sport. There’s no way I’ll be able to explain Spin Wars without sounding like a clueless old person. But here goes.

The course at Spin Wars was basically two parking lots surrounded by cement barriers, connected by a small road, creating a rough U shape. Drivers compete one car at a time, pulling into one of the parking lots, spinning around cylindrical trash cans and reversing at high speed into a narrow space called “the kitchen”. The cars’ engines make insanely loud popping noises that sound like gun shots.

Each routine lasts several minutes, as the driver spins around both parking lots and the passenger and/or driver do various tricks, like hanging out of the car window by their ankles, climbing on top of the car, or jumping out of (even over) the car and back in.

There are times when NO ONE is in the car and it continues to spin. The routine essentially continues until the tires are completely shredded, the car hits a barrier, or the driver is unable to continue for some other reason. Long strips of rubber often arc up into the air in the middle of a routine. Sparks fly as the cars screech around the course on bare metal rims.

There are both men and women spinners – they competed separately at Spin Wars in male and female categories, and the winner of each category won a fancy-looking spin car. There was even a child spinner, who looked about 10 or 11, but he performed recreationally (not part of the official competition). Most of the craziest stunts I saw happened at the end of the day’s official competition when the spinners went out and performed for fun.

Spinners were paired up and competed head-to-head; the winner of each head-to-head matchup went on to the next round. (I don’t know exactly how the judging works. I was too captivated by the actual performances to investigate that part.) The competition was spread out over two days, but sadly I was only there for the first day. I imagine the second day was even more dramatic.

I’m not sure exactly why spinning enthralls me so much. Maybe because it’s a completely South African phenomenon, with uniquely South African flair. Maybe it’s the danger – seeing people do things that appear impossible for humans to do without dying, and yet there they are, doing it and still alive, even smiling. My brain couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. But also it’s the noise and the smell and the adrenaline and the great photo ops.

Spin Wars nearly made me want to give up everything and devote the rest of my career to photographing spinning. The thought also occurred to me that maybe I should become a spinner myself. Then I remembered I’m a 50-year-old white lady who can’t reverse in a straight line. Maybe in the next life.

Thank you, Spin Wars. That was fun.