6 years later…

 

 

  For me, most of life begins and ends with the celebration of food. These days I must say, adding the odd gin and tonic, or exploring an old vintage cocktail, or a precisely paired wine with the mood of the affair adds a certain depth to most of the celebrations, but nothing, nothing gets past the food…! 


  I am an Afro-Boer. An African Traveller is who I am and what I love doing. The name describes all that I grew up to become - my soul a traveling boeremeisie with my heart in Africa Motherland. I have European roots, some traditional sentiment, an Afrikaans heritage, a love for the African Continent: including all its colours, flavours eccentricities, combinations, cultures, music, arts, writers and composers… and (and again here I must add - I think it has gotten worse with age…) - a somewhat French temperament! 


  The feel of my café is very uniquely non-traditional but could very well include a Zulu on my stoep and boerekos in my kitchen. I am creating a place where I can wear a Madiba t-shirt whilst walking over a Nguni-cowskin to my fresh boere beskuit on some painted antique afrikana shelf, soulfully humming along to Ladysmith Black Mambazo jiving in the background… 


  A place where I can revere over verses once written by Uys Krige, and reminisce over an old secret recipe-pudding I would like to serve in a blikbord. 
  This, I want to share with the people around me. This I want people to remember as if sitting at their own kitchen tables whilst food is slowly and lovingly prepared by hand. 
  All of this, I combine in my eatery, aiming to set a slower pace, but one with a bit of meaning… and possibly some celebration!  


  Over the past couple of years of growth, and newer understandings of the communities of this deeply layered country - I have had the privilege of seeing a collective majority of peoples outside of their offices, and albeit: in mine…  
  I have watched and learned and shared with familiar strangers, stories and experiences of achievement, disappointment, joy, sorrow, forgiveness, bitterness, fear, and  relief. I have seen heroes pass on, Madiba, Mendoza, Andre P. Brink, Joost van Der Westhuizen, Gugu Zulu, Hugh Masikela, Piet Botha… to name a few… - have seen a male 400m runner charge the country through to a long awaited win in green and gold, and then I have seen a female runner wage a lone war on challenging persecution because of being born different.  

 

 


  We have met movie-stars here, journalists, directors, musicians, writers, rich and famous, but have also met Greed and Judgement… we've won awards, had birthday dress-ups and  heat-wave dress downs! Twice, we've voted, and once we've marched - but not much has changed with how the planet is suffering demolishment…  


  We've lost some friends here, and made many new…  


  Food has been celebrated here with birthdays, Mother’s days, Father’s days, Valentine’s days, Christmas holidays, Easter weekends, New Year’s, Old Years, weddings, funerals, Heritage days, and a Radio Kalahari Orkes concert. 

 

 


  This 6 year journey has taken me past the thunder rattling the windows in the darkened afternoon skies, past walking through veldgras on our farm rustling in the wind, past long awaited raindrops on arid red dust, past smoke blowing off embers under a Sunday-potjie, past the heavy smell of Zam-Buk in a Woolies queue, past the dew on the bright purple African violets in the garden, past the garlic butter spattered oyster mushrooms freshly harvested into a pan, past the police sirens wailing through the street corner, past the Rasta-neighbour and his chickens, past the sigh of silence just before closing time, searching for the Spirit of the Great Heart, under African skies… 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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