South Africa's petrol-head rodeos: spinning tournaments return

On a circuit in the industrial city of Alberton, southeast of Johannesburg, drivers spin their cars around while raising clouds of smoke, taking the arena one after the other as if on an open stage. The discipline, officially a sport in the country for a few years, was originally a gangster ritual during the apartheid era. A first tournament was held after two years of suspension due to Covid.

South Africa's petrol-head rodeos: spinning tournaments return

The testosterone tang of aftershave and burnt tyres wafts over an asphalt track outside Johannesburg, where hundreds gather to watch cars skid into circles at dizzying speed, stunt performers hanging perilously out of windows.
White plumes of smoke billow into the air as drivers take turns spinning round and round in circles. 
The biggest daredevils let go of the steering wheel or hang themselves upside down out of open car doors as the vehicle keeps going.
Now recognised as a motor sport, "spinning" was born in South African townships during the late 1980s, when gangsters would spin stolen cars to show off their booty.
Although spinning has been banned from the streets, events still take place legally in closed urban arenas. There are often no prizes, but drivers take turns performing to gain applause.
Tickets for the Alberton event sold for 50 rand ($3.4) each. "No weapons" allowed, the poster noted.
Excited fans milled around the tarmac, drinking beer and smoking weed as kwaito -- a South African style of music similar to hip-hop -- blasted from speakers.
Spectators rush over to the smouldering vehicle and douse it with bottled water. 
Most is salvaged aside from the boot, which emerges blackened and charred.
Unshaken, the driver takes a quick look under the bonnet and gets back behind the wheel.
"It's part of the game," shrugs Issac Molefe, a 50-year-old regular.
Rooted in black communities, spinning has attracted a more diverse set of participants in recent years.
"I'm here to show what a white man can do," said Paul Breckle, 23, the only white driver performing that evening, hands on the wheel of a black BMW.