Ojayy is many things: a gym bro, a bibliophile, a content marketer, but almost never a couch potato. On the weekends, you can find him by the DJ booth or on the dance floor. While many believe people go outside to chase a high and turn up empty after, Ojayy views this experience differently.
There is a satisfaction that sits in his skin after a night of submitting to the music. And this fulfilment lingers long after the DJ closes his set. For Ojayy, the weekends are for recharging and refuelling.
In this edition of Roaring 20s, Ojayy lets us into the world behind the wristbands and weekend rituals. From pregame buzzes to post-rave reflections, we talk about his party philosophy, freedom, fleeting feelings, and the roar of a well-lived 20s.
Why are you always outside, really? Is it about the music, the people, or the freedom, or are you running from your own thoughts a little?
I primarily believe that the world is outdoors. Your house is a place to keep your stuff and come change your clothes when you need to. And the occasional need to sleep and recharge as well. Real life is in the experiences outside. The music and the people are the two main reasons I’m outside every weekend.
At some point in my life, I’d have said the music alone could suffice. But having partied with friends and connected with strangers on dancefloors just off of shared expression that the music inspires, I will say the people, too. Indoors or outdoors, I feel free, but there are moments on the dancefloor when you suddenly have an epiphany and realise that you are indeed free. Regarding my thoughts, I actually do very much enjoy them, so I don’t be running from those (laughs).
Walk me through your ideal weekend, step by step. From the pre-game vibes to the last-minute outfit change, the playlist, the crowd, the come-up, and the come-down, what does the full ritual look like when everything hits just right?
A standard weekend starts around 7 pm when I drive or cycle to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of the green Jameson whisky and a 6-pack of Coke. The first whisky and Coke mix is thrown back in one gulp, and I immediately envision that my blood pressure has spiked some and smile. Right after, the warmth starts to circulate my body, and you know that feels goooood. At around 11 pm, I dress up, usually in a t-shirt, jeans (baggy or straight), a cross bag, and kicks, with or without a face cap.
The designated driver does the pickup, and this has been one of my guys in the past couple of weeks. So, he picks me up and then another of our guys. Others meet us there. We’re usually a little crowd of 4 to 10 people. The playlist is usually a mix of Afrobeats, EDM, Amapiano, and regular DJ sounds.
If we go to a lounge/club, we will often buy a bottle or more. For large crowd parties, we prefer to go back to the car to top up the buzz. I tend to dance in front of the crowd, right by the DJ stand, and I turn up plenty. Around 2 am, the party peaks, and it begins to wind down at about 3 am, so at 3:30 am or so, we’re on our way back home.
Most times, we go to mine, drink some more, and just watch YouTube music videos or karaoke until around 5 am, and then everybody who came finds a place to sleep. By daybreak, they leave to go to their houses, and that’s the end of it.
Tell me about a weekend so wild you had to ask yourself, “How did we even get here?” I want the full gist: the bad decisions, the almost-regrets, and the part that made it unforgettable.
This happened a few months ago. I’d been invited to a dinner, and there was plenty of wine and booze. I have an insanely high tolerance, and since the standard sweet wine is almost always under 8%, I kept downing them. I must have had two bottles that night alongside some whisky. Afterwards, we went to a lounge, got some tequila, and continued partying. I also downed several shots.
The last thing I remembered that night was getting to the lounge. My guys had to drive me home because I was super unsteady. I couldn’t drive myself. Turns out that particular wine was in fact 16%, and the mix of three alcohol types wasn’t a good idea either. I woke up to a dead car battery and a gap in my memory because I had no recollection of getting home (laughs).
When the lights come on and the night ends after the music stops, the high wears off, and the people scatter, what do you usually feel? Is it peace, emptiness, adrenaline, or just vibes till the next one?
I usually feel pretty fulfilled. Quite spent physically, but there’s a satisfaction that comes from wholly giving yourself to the music and jumping or dancing along as the lyrics burst forth from your lips. I also still usually have some adrenaline coursing through, which is what usually carries over to the after-party (the karaoke bit I mentioned earlier). I never chase highs. I’m usually content to enjoy the moment, high or regular.
What’s the one thing that can make or break a night out? Is it the crew, the DJ, the energy, or how you’re feeling deep down?
The DJ. I know how to party and have fun on my own, so that’s not a problem. However, if I’m dealing with a crappy DJ, then there’s an issue. This is because music has to flow. You have to build the tempo, move the crowd to crescendo, and manipulate them with your wheels of steel!
Sudden tempo switches, poor sound, or disjointed track lineups are a recipe for disaster for any party. I’d much rather be listening to music from my headphones and doing my own thing. The crew is secondary. Granted that I do have an incredible time when certain individuals come along, I’m still able to have a remarkable night without them.
Have you ever caught unexpected feelings in the middle of a party, like deep lust or something that felt suspiciously like love? Do real connections happen on the dancefloor for you, or does everything fade once the music stops?
Ah, yes. That deep appreciation for a curvy woman who walks along your line of sight or gets caught in the edge of your eye. Or sensual dancing with a stranger, and it’s like the crevices in each other’s bodies just fit perfectly.
You’re in rhythm, and other people on the dancefloor are extras. I’ve had a few moments like that, and I consider them an ‘in-the-moment’ thing. I don’t think sensual dancing is a sufficient connection for me. I like to think of it as a performance, and once the music stops, bow, step back, and move on with your life.
What’s Monday morning like after a weekend like that? How do you go from feeling limitless in a crowd on Sunday to answering emails and surviving capitalism on Monday?
I tend to ease myself into the week from Sunday gradually. I have certain to-dos that indicate the coming new week for me, like washing my gym gear, reflecting on what I have to do that week, and generally just letting myself ease into the slow pace. For me, once the partying is done, then it’s done, and on to the next. Since the next is capitalism, so be it. We go again the following weekend.
Do you see yourself still outside at 30, or are you soaking up all the chaos while you can? And if you could bottle up just one feeling from a perfect rave night and keep it forever, what would it be?
At 30, I feel like I’ll have slowed down significantly. If you see how I party now, you will understand. I feel like I’ll probably be more interested in slower-paced stuff. Maybe I’ll still party every other weekend or, say, once a month, or the partying may have taken on a different form, but I know something will be different. Maybe then, when it happens, I could come back and update this interview. Haha.
The perfect rave moment I would like to keep is how I felt in the moments when I screamed ‘Dlala Thukzin’ when Dlala came to play at Group Therapy. It was euphoric each time, like a spring of sweetness bursting forth within me. That’s the best way I can describe it.
Would you say your 20s are roaring? On a scale of 1 to 10, how loud is the roar?
I think this is really relative. Using my own metrics, I’ll say yes. My own metric is that I just want to have enough to go on adventures and party on the weekends. If I have enough to go on a camping trip or buy amala and goat meat, then yes, I’m good. I may not be able to afford luxury vacation destinations yet, but in all honesty, I don’t particularly care for those, actually. It really is the little things for me.
So, on a scale of 10, I’ll say 8. The 2 I didn’t include are a window for other adventures that I’ll experience in the coming years. By the time I turn 30, I feel confident that I’ll look back and rate my 20s a 10.
