The year of the seed pearl

I am guilty of the smug demeanour of someone born in 1999 because I can say that I’ve lived in two centuries. While the limitations of one’s first year of life may have prevented me from taking full advantage of the 1900s, that is beside the point. I have lived in two centuries, and thus, it is my prerogative to look down my nose at the 2000s babies.

I suppose I owe this smugness to my parents – I was a honeymoon baby; my parents were married in April 1998 and I was born the following January. A couple of months off could have cost me my right to scoff at 2000s kids (readers, you can do the maths). My father called my mother ‘Pearl’, and when the radiographer detected an unattached fertilized egg in my mother’s womb, I was promptly nicknamed the ‘seed pearl’. On the day the ‘seed pearl’ was born, my poor mother was sweltering in the Durban heat while my father was trying his utmost to remember breathing strategies from prenatal classes. A photo was taken after my birth of my mother holding a gigantic device that she says was a cell phone, with me cradled in the crook of her arm. The cell phone was about the same size as new-born me, which is definitely an indication of the year I was born.

‘I Want It That Way’ was the anthem of the year. Already a household name, the Backstreet Boys and their matching white outfits managed to get the track stuck in everyone’s head. A decidedly problematic side-effect of the hit song: the sudden surge of entire friendship groups wearing matching, loose-fitting outfits. Teenagers furtively listened to Britney Spears’ ‘Baby One More Time’, and ‘All Star’ by Smash Mouth was blasted on radios before the song was used as the soundtrack to Shrek’s daily routine. The range of music in 1999 had something for everyone, and in South Africa, it had the effect of uniting the rainbow nation in its infancy. Johnny Clegg released Asimbonanga in 1987 as an ode to Nelson Mandela during his renowned imprisonment on Robben Island. Then, in 1999, South Africans all over the world were overcome by emotion when Nelson Mandela surprised Clegg by appearing on stage during a rendition of the haunting melody. Music was certainly at the peak of popular culture in 1999.

Star Wars: Episode I — The Phantom Menace was premiered in 1999 as a prequel to the Star Wars trilogy, the last of which had been released in 1983. The hysteria surrounding the film was astronomical; fans queued for hours to get tickets, and some even tattooed Anakin Skywalker’s face on their bodies. Ironically, this movie was released the same year that I, a self-proclaimed Star Wars adversary, was born. I have never watched a single episode or movie of Star Wars on principal, and I think that this is a testament to my character. My thought process was that, if everyone else is watching it, why should I follow the crowd. Now, I vaguely regret this stance, but since social media has already spoiled most of the major plot points for me, it’s debatable whether or not I should start the journey to a galaxy far, far away…

1999 was a big year for popular culture; everyone was jumping on the Star Wars bandwagon (or should I say, spaceship?), and music was proving to both unite and diversify the world. Each year on my birthday, the heat is the same as it was in January 1999, when the simmering sunshine made my pregnant mother so uncomfortable. These are all constants, it seems; Star Wars’ popularity, music as an antidote, and January heat.