Dumisa Lengwati
Videographer. Editor. Writer. Perfomer. Woman.
SEE.
Where the journey takes you
Myself being a young female who has recently been grappling with questions of performativity as I come into being an adult woman, it was almost impossible to extrapolate myself from the process. Thus, I decided to share the journey and experience of getting my first tattoo. Click on this icon - - to see the culmination of our thoughtful exploration
Dumisa Gets A Tattoo
Dumisa finalises the design
Marking my body with permanent ink has been something I’ve been obsessed about for the past 6 years. The wait wasn’t about getting the courage; it was about getting the finances. Funnily enough, this design isn’t my first choice – I decided on the tiger lily vine because I know it’s the biggest and most painful piece I’m going to get. Where is it, you ask? On my left side, mostly over my ribs. Ouch indeed. Why tiger lilies? I consider my spirit animal to be the tiger, but no ways am I going to get that print on my body – too kitsch. When I got to Full Sail Tattoos on Monday 6 October, tattoo artist Quintin Carnage had a draft ready, but I did ask him to make a few changes as this is something that’s going to be on my body for the rest of my life.
Dumisa lusts over colours she can’t get
Full Sail Tattoos is almost like a playground for a tattoo enthusiast (as any tattoo shop would be). While I was waiting on Quintin to add the finishing touches (and for the power to come back on during an unexpected blackout – talk about stress!), I poked around the store through his previous work, the various trinkets and paintings he has displayed, and my favourite part – all the amazing colours one can get inked onto their skin. I was previously told dark-skinned people can’t get colour tattoos, but this was corrected by Quintin’s enthusiastic tattoo partner, Burt Viljoen, who says we can get a limited range of colours. Can’t I just get a rainbow?!
Dumisa says ‘goodbye’ to bare skin
Very soon, I was not going to know any longer what bare skin on this part of my body was going to look like. I have a few of my ingcabo’s*, protective traditional medicinal scarring, which were barely noticeable (the four staggered markings in the middle of my side). I suppose in a way, due to that, I have experienced body modification by way of scarification, but this was the first body mod I would experience for cosmetic reasons, not spiritual. Tarryn, one of my lovely subjects and a dear friend, had once mentioned that she sometimes wonders now what her skin would look like without her three tattoos. I was experiencing the opposite – get that ink on my skin now!
Dumisa gets marked with the trace
When the design is finalised, the tattoo artist stains the trace of the design onto your skin so they can a) see how it will mould onto your body (since it’s not a flat canvas), and b) have something to follow once he gets the machine buzzing on your skin. The nerves and excitement were all coming to a head now as I could begin to visualise what my chosen permanent body art was going to look like. The only things standing in the way of that now were signing the indemnity form, and two and a half hours of ensuing pain.
Dumisa realises this is going to happen
6 years of anticipation, of watching two friends getting their tattoos, of saving, of dreaming… all now in a template on my skin. I had experienced brief relief when Quintin had sprayed the ice cold ‘staining spray’ on my side, as it was one of those muggy, frying-eggs-on-the-pavement kind of Grahamstown days. But now as it was drying off, the increasing sweat on my palms was not only the result of the scorching heat. I lay down on my side with my back to Quintin as he prepared his tools, feeling quite vulnerable and waiting for the first prick of that entirely too loud, relentless buzzing of the (in)famous machine…
Dumisa gets inked
… which wasn’t entirely too bad for the first five minutes. In fact, I couldn’t even tell whether he had started or not to be honest. Trust me though, 10 minutes in when he was going over my hip bone – yeowzers! I definitely felt that. How do I describe the pain? When the machine was on a fleshy part with no bone underneath, I could feel the vibrations shaking me to the core. I soon realised I preferred the long strokes, which are akin to someone slicing you open with a scalpel. Yeah, this is not for the faint of heart. When the machine was over the bone, the needle suddenly felt much sharper now that it had something to resist against, and I experienced a different kind of painful vibration – imagine someone tapping a sharp sword against your teeth. I can’t say I wasn’t warned about a tattoo on the ribs, but no amount of anecdotes will you prepare for how painful it is. Also, unfortunately, he started from the bottom, which meant he was going to end on my ribs. As is evidenced with the type of tattoo I first went for, I obviously want to get the most painful part done first.
Dumisa realises there’s no turning back
Half an hour in, with my bestie Martin now around to distract me from the process, I realised that as painful as it was, there was no stopping. You don’t want to be the person who chickened out of a tattoo halfway. Fortunately, I had not heard of any such horror stories, so I also realised that if other people can get through it, so can I. For me, those were pretty much the only ways I consoled myself.
Dumisa is in a lot of pain
There is a lot that goes through one’s mind while getting a tattoo. For me, I had hoped that the visceral pain would be an outlet for a very recent, very painful break-up that I’m going through. Quintin had to lean on my hip for most of the process, so I had to be conscious of not making him uncomfortable, but this added to the dripping sweat between my thighs – ew. I had to make sure that I didn’t give any involuntary spasms of pain throughout, lest Quintin made a mistake – nobody wants that. I had to be present to what Martin was talking about, which was a very engaging conversation about his Masters proposal, without accidentally drifting off back into the pain – no matter what’s going on, no one likes thinking they’re not being listened to (even though Martin is one of the most darling, understanding friends I have). Finally, two and a half dreamy hours later (dreamy because the pain is now distant, almost like labour pains for my new baby) – I was inked! I was ogled by Burt, Martin and Quintin (unsettling male gaze), ceremoniously cling-wrapped and instructed on the after-care, and headed straight to Champs Action Bar for celebratory/can-I-just-forget-the absolute-torture-I’ve-been-through drinks. How do you take care of a new tattoo? Oh, don’t even get me started…
Dumisa is healing
You can keep the cling wrap on from an hour after, up to the next morning after, the process. Once it’s taken off, you have to wash with antibacterial soap (no colourants or fragrants) to remove any plasma, blood or ink. This first feel of water is both soothing and aching. You pat dry with a clean towel, and thereafter apply a topical antibacterial cream (many debate over whether Bepanthen or E45 is best – really all you need is an antibacterial cream). You do this twice a day until the tattoo is healed (no longer scabbing/peeling/flaking). This was all fine. The problem came when it was sleep time. I sleep on all sides, so being relegated to sleep only on my right side (as the tattoo wraps all around my left side) was problematic. I only experienced half-sleep for a few days as I would unconsciously roll onto my left side, realise what I was doing, and roll back. The same applied when it came to the itchy phase of the tattoo, when I would unconsciously start scratching and then stop myself. The first two days were still quite painful as the tattoo was quite literally raw. The tattoo scabs after a few days and resisting the urge to pick it like a normal scab is hard to overcome, especially as you want to see it healed already. Picking the scabs as opposed to allowing them to flake off can remove the ink. As any normal girl, I like my fancy soaps and shower gels, and felt really uncomfortable using plain-smelling glycerine soap. I had to wear loose clothes (in summer), no bras (not that that was too much of a complaint), couldn’t take scalding showers as it would make the tattoo sting (and anyone who knows me knows I love burning showers), and hugging people became a little awkward. But seeing the tattoo heal in its various phases was very exciting as I knew the end result was going to be worth a little discomfort and quite a bit of money.
Dumisa loves her tattoo
Et voila! It took approximately 2 weeks, 3 days for my new baby to heal. I’ve loved the attention I’ve gotten from people asking to see it, what it means, what the experience was like, and whether I’ll get any more. I’ve always known that this is the first of a good 4 or 5 that I’m planning on getting, but I’m not in any rush for the 2nd one (I say this and watch me get another one at the beginning of next year). I love that I’m able to express something I find beautiful on my body in a permanent way. I love that I can conceal it and surprise people with it when I show it off. I love that I can connect with other people who have tattoos and relate our experiences. I love the surprise people get when they see such a tiny person with such a big piece. I love how it looks, feels, and that it’s become a part of my life and who I am. In short – I love my tattoo.
Idi's Input
Idi's Input
* Ingcabo's are traditional scars made by a traditional healer cutting tiny incisions into the skin
(ukugcaba), and rubbing a medicinal ointment into it. They are for spiritual protection against malevolent harm