In 2025, I headed into the Karoo desert for Afrikaburn with Russell and a fantastic group of his friends. It’s a surreal, makeshift community of 13,000 people where the world of money vanishes for a week, replaced entirely by the "gifting" economy.
One of the most prized gifts in that dusty world is a shower. Since all water has to be brought into the desert, a wash is a miracle. We would stand naked in a queue, eventually reaching the front to be doused in warm water and given a thorough, good-natured scrub-down by two delightful ladies. It was the kind of communal, ego-stripping experience that only happens in the Karoo.
Russell, ever the visionary, brought two gifting ideas of his own that were absolute triumphs.
First, he curated an incredible collection of temporary tattoos. We set up a "Tattoo Station" that became a magnet for connection. It was a brilliant way to bond with strangers over a bit of ink and water. I remember our friend Dawn, who has a wicked sense of humor, showing off her new acquisition.
"I’ve got a little mouse on my inner thigh," she announced with a mischievous twinkle. She peeled back her sarong to reveal the spot, only to find the mouse had vanished. She looked genuinely perplexed for a second before deadpanning, "Oh dear, I think my pussy has eaten it!"
But Russell’s piece de résistance came the following day.
The toilets at Afrikaburn are a unique architectural experience: rows of twelve "long-drops" on stilts, completely open to the desert breeze save for a low wooden partition. It’s a place where you can contemplate the vast horizon while attending to your morning business in full view of passers-by.
Russell realized he had the one thing every performer dreams of: a captive audience.
Armed with a chair, a boombox, and his endless mental library of one-liners, he set up shop right in front of the loos. A friend dubbed it "The Shit Show," and the name stuck instantly. Russell delivered a masterclass in comedy to the row of seated spectators, encouraging them to heckle and yell "CRAP!" whenever a joke didn't land.
Before long, a crowd of passers-by had gathered, and the atmosphere was electric. It was a festive, ridiculous triumph. Most people go to the desert to find themselves; Russell went to the desert to make sure that even in their most "exposed" moments, people were properly entertained by a man who truly knows how to work a room—even when half the room is sitting on a long-drop.
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