I think the Gummi Bears rocked. Sure, technically, they bounced, here and there and everywhere — at least when they’d ingested gummi berry juice — but I still think they rocked.
They’re one of my fondest memories of the 80s. (What else does the 8-s have to offer? PW and his Rubicon speech? Big hair? Aha?)
Nostalgia in South Africa is a tough one. That’s partly why I love the Kinky Afro ads — they’re a great reminder of how we tend to idealise the past while ignoring the fact that back in the 70s, beaches were racially segregated, or that in the 80s, nobody had cellphones. Music itself is still quite divisive — I know one black guy who has Spandau Ballet in his collection and even he admits that’s weird.
In contrast, TV is one of the few things South Africans can get nostalgic about without being too aware of how divided we were in the 70s and 80s.
Some of my most vivid memories of that time relate to the TV I watched. Who can forget V, with its brilliantly menacing theme music and the scene where the beautiful brunette swallows the rat whole? I remember how, at the time, some local television critics were quick to draw parallels between the alien invasion of Earth and the apartheid government, though I was more interested in the lizard-people’s really cool modes of transport.
Under the Mountain was another series that traumatised an entire generation of South African children. For years I had nightmares about the huge slug-like alien creatures gestating in a cavern somewhere in New Zealand. Those of you who share similar experiences might be pleased to know that the movie remake is scheduled for release in December. If you want to re-experience those childhood nightmares, click here to watch episode 1.
Under the Mountain was the logical successor in my nightmares to Knersus the pterodactyl, who was forever trying to eat Oscar the rabbit. The series seems to be available for purchase online, so if you have young children now, they can relive your childhood and, like me, form the conviction that Knersus lived in the compost heap in the garden next door and used to gaze at me through the night.
Oh, I know only too well that while I was sleeping safe in my suburban bed, many children in South Africa were facing terrors far more menacing than anything on TV. Nostalgia, as Herb Caen once said, is memory with the pain removed.
But we can’t live in constant pain. Now and then, we need a release, a way to connect with others through shared memory, to wallow in the pleasantly lukewarm jacuzzi of the past. And what nicer way to do it than remember the Gummi Bears?
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