Welcome almost spring!

In the name of Allah, most gracious most merciful who knows everything in the land and the sea. No leaf falls without His knowing it.

First gooseberries

30 July 2014.

I don't have much time for blogging today but could just not resist sharing some of the photographs from the almost spring garden.

This is such a Mashallah day, the sun it out! Geckos are basking in the sun wagging their tails (just kidding), birds dart around gathering nectar and bees are zooming into the kitchen as I put some konfyts on the board for packaging. Hey I did not tell you of the "culture in a jar" post. Well friends of ours who are leaving for Egypt are sorting out their premises so staff can continue to have a job even in their absence with new look "Nadia's Desserts" and asked about those "culture in a jar konfyts" . Well it has become a label and more about that later, hmmm how about some sundried tomatoes and feta with springs of rosemary in olive oil and so on and so forth. Consider your first flush of green figs to preserve and make a lekker konfyt saving of course on buying jam and eating more wholesome - pick them when they are still hard, I'll do a step by step How to cook.

So I am outside this morning, armed with camera trying to capture some new developments and I am seething. "Dear Gopher, this place is big enough for the both of us, so don't make tunnels under my red onions and nasturtiums or I swear I will declare war and bring in kittens to chase you!" Ja, I was filling gopher tunnels this morning to stop roots being exposed and plants dying and realised just how much weeds have flourished as well. The strawberries are berrying and the onions grow mucho and guess what? a few blossom buds on the almond and blue berry tree and bush. Every time I peep into the crate the plants just seem so much more lush than yesterday. Seedlings are popping. And in between work, email communication of grave importance, I plant out and water.  But genoeg praat more action shots.

Almost almond blossom

black seedlings

Blueberry blossom

talking poppy heads

A walk on the wildside of flax

 

new lettuce seedlings

lush in the crate

fuchsia flowering soon 

rocket blossoms

sweet willaims

wild garlic blossom

Plant food and enjoy the sunshine today!!

Yasmine

The day before work, the day after.

In the name of Allah most gracious, most merciful.

 

The day after Eid. Alhamdulilaah, well rested and trying to get in a few more visits and then the pretty bed spread goes back into the cupboard.

Many are fasting still for the six days of Shawwal and those who have received permission are preparing for hajj, how absolutely exciting. So prospective hujjaj, if you have butterflies in your tummy its quite normal. While we stood shoulder to shoulder yesterday in masjid, Palestinian solidarity stand firm as Muslim mosques are bombed and the churches opened their doors like Al Najaasi (the Negus) gave the early Muslims sanctuary against the Idolators. Subhanallah.

In Schaapkraal the weather continues to be damp but I am happy that, wait for it - the black seeds I strew around are all popping up as are the basil seeds, new lettuce and beetroot. The veggies in the crate from Nefies are lush I really want to get at least two more. It is protected from the wind and the gophers and worms somehow take long to discover them, thus they flourish. By the way, I think the gopher that was in our garden in Lansdowne has finally found her way to the new strawberry beds ha ha.

I am so excited to see the poppies blooming so I am checking everyday just for a glimpse maybe to see it unfurl - is red is it yellow?


Tossing prawns

  And so I made the prawns this evening. I bought some garlic naan (too lazy to make some), coconut cream and prawns from the Rylands superette and I loved that they were fresh when I cooked them, no cleaning and snipping yay!


I took time thawing the prawns and rinsed lightly so they were not waterlogged and spiced with grated garlic and seafood masala (the wet one) from Shaik's. I wet the base of a warm pan with a bit of oil and tossed in the prawns, fried them

prawns starting to curl

quickly on both sides just until they curled into half moons and put them aside. In the same pan I sautéed a finely chopped onion, added a few fresh curry leaves from the tree; 2 cloves of garlic roughly chopped and added a side of red and green peppers, also finely chopped. As the aroma filled the kitchen and it was cooked for five minutes I added a grated tomato and 2 teaspoons of seafood masala and bit of salt to taste. Chucked the prawns back and allowed to simmer for 5 more minutes.

We attempted to capture all of it on camera but alas the battery was flat so pics only of me frying the prawns. I added the tin of coconut cream and asked someone to run outside for a handful of danya which I snippered in with a scissor. Then I warmed a roti/tawa pan and tossed the frozen naan on flipping them over every 30 seconds until they were soft and ready to be served. Voila! all of this in half an hour. Prawns must please not be overcooked, and try to get a roti or tawa pan - I saw some at Rylands Superette. But check to see if it has a good steel base. (My children also use it for cheese burghers and its excellent for French toast because its non stick.)

This is a naan recipe I generally use, but this evening the ones I bought were just as good:

Naan

 Ingredients

• ½ tsp dried yeast
• 4 tablespoons warm water
• 2 tsp sugar
• 2/3 cup milk
• 1 cup plain yoghurt
• 1 egg beaten
• 2 tablespoons melted butter or ghee
• 4 ½ cups flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoon oil
• Some poppy seeds or black seed

Mix yeast and water and sugar and set aside until it becomes frothy.
Mix together milk, yoghurt, egg and melted butter and set aside.
Sieve flour, baking powder and salt in a large bowl and make a well.
Fold in all liquid ingredients and knead into a soft dough.
Continue kneading until smooth, cover with cling wrap or plastic.
Divide dough into 8 equal portions and shape into round balls.
Roll out on floured board or table and pull out one side to create a pear shape.
Brush the top with some melted butter and sprinkle with some poppy seeds or sesame seeds or whatever seeds are your fancy..
Bake in preheated oven for 12 minutes or on the roti pan..

 

The prawns recipe is in the text.

 

Plant food and learn to make your own Naan!
Yasmine

 

 

Beautiful night of Eidul Fitr.

In the name of Allah most gracious most merciful. Who changes the day into the night and the night into day. Who brings light after darkness and who brings guidance after misguidance.

28 July 2014


tonight the silver sliver

Last night we went moon sighting after an elusive moon, not expecting to see it with the naked eye and tonight that silver sliver of illuminated light floats in a beautiful serene sky! After days filled with rain and cold and dark skies the wind cleared the sky as we drove towards Three Anchor Bay, Subhanallah. Thick coats and scarfs and boots; thick carpets for praying and thick skinned against the cold. Our children wanted to experience the gathering of the clans like they did when they were toddlers running around on a warm summers Asr, many moons ago. The walk was brisk and refreshing, people walking with picnic baskets that contain all kinds of finger niceties to break fast with - water and dates and fresh juices and bite size chicken and delights. Alas the cold was a bit much ne, so when I got a call for a warm cup of boeber or tea – let's pack up and follow this conversation with the Voice of the Cape who will give the official notice.

And then the Takbir resounded as we sat outside sipping tea and I just burst out crying – for my parents who have passed and the blessed month that has come to an end and my kids all over the world and for me, who forgot to take out the leg of lamb; make the brioche dough and cook the corned beef. I was not expecting this. But it was so wonderful making our Eshaa salah in a family group giving Shukr and making duah for all oppressed peoples and even those who oppress their own souls.

So late night all hands on deck all of the things we wanted to do today, everyone has to ghusl and change their bedding and let’s not get flowers there is no time! What do we have a garden filled with greenery for?

This year we decided to attend the mosque and do our greetings in the proximity of our siblings and came home just on Thuhr. The children look so beautiful and as is our culture wait patiently for their gifts of money (smart ne).We postponed lunch till the evening as our stomachs were unused to all the treats. I made a traditional leg of lamb, so no surprises, with sweet saffron rice and delectable sweet potato and crisp carrots but I did try something new. So I made a delectable warm beetroot salad from the garden - just kidding we ate all of that in the Ramadhan, I got it from that little shop in Earnest Road Rylands called Rylands Superette.

I served the baklava with vanilla yoghurt and placed some fruit and nuts and tore open the pomegranate – my attempt to wholesome beautiful things that grace the table with small bite size melon konfyt when my guests came by and continue to pop in. I boiled the beetroot so that the skin slipped off but the beetroot was still crisp dribbled olive oil over the wedges and grilled for another half an hour. Made a dressing of balsamic vinegar, rosemary, honey, olive oil and ground pepper (Azrah did) which I set aside until I half crumbled/broke some feta all over it then dressed it up. It was just drop dead gorgeous! I stashed the prawns for tomorrow which I will serve in a light coconut based curry with garlic naan. There is something to be said about making something for Eid and giving the haq of every ingredient, I know some of us are busy working and have little time. InshaAllah next year it will be better.



baklava and friends

fruits of jannah

wholesome snacks

I wish you all a Mubarak Eid evening ahead wherever you may find yourself in the world, here in Cape Town, its really beautiful outside, I am so taking a walk!

Plant food and empty your pockets for all the kids you see.

Yasmine

Prelude to Eidul Fitr

In the name of Allah most gracious, most merciful. Lord of the heavens and the earth and everything in between.

 

 

 

27 June 2014.

The light of the day breaks through the grey ever so gently, a part of the day that I adore. Everyone has gone back to sleep after stacking up plates for maybe that last Suhur, maybe not. Should you be reciting it is asif the birds answer. Should you be excited and lying in bed contemplating the sad end of Ramadhan;  you would be not be alone. The young people in my house are at their best behaviour, turning out their rooms and looking at what special bedding is in the cupboard to welcome Eidul Fitr.

 

I am so chaffed with a new oak table a gift from a traveller, needs a final sanding and a lick of varnish or maybe a good beeswax polish. Honestly, I love sitting on the floor but tables are important for Eid too. Beautiful damask table cloths and silverware shined and flowers and linen serviettes. Abu and I have a ritual to go and buy flowers for the house, the last thing that we do to await the resounding Takbir in Cape Town. So I check all the vases are sparkling and the tablecloths are worthy. I take out an Indian bedspread that only graces my bed on Eids and then it gets packed away. Timeless in its beauty and cheerful for my disposition, covered in poppies.

Yesterday we went to eat at the Ocean basket, Nile perch and fresh prawns and mussels and crunchy calamari heads a treat for us all. On our way back we drove down Belgravia Road to stop at the Wembley. No, no not the roadhouse but the minimarket. I forgot to get some cashew nuts for the baklava and knew for sure I would get it there. There I know for sure supplies will be a bit expensive but I will find most provisions and many that gives me ideas for an Eid table such as pomegranates that are ruby red; custard apples that are just ripe enough to eat; spring onion (I had used up all in the garden) for stir fries; all kinds of fresh herbs and fruits that will look and taste fabulous for a corner of tumbling lush fruits. So I am standing there considering the cashew nuts or some real toffee; pomegranates or custard apples; douebla beans or beautifully packaged dates in a box thin, wrist like and ornate. And I hear a sweet Asalaamu alaykum and a dear friend is there too.

When we got home it got me thinking. I cut out a piece of text that I deleted a few days ago and thought it would be a good prelude to some things going through my mind but can’t put my finger on.

So I pasted back these two paragraphs:

Tomorrow after Magrib, commonly regarded in Cape Town as Lailatul Qadr, the Night of Power. The masajid will be busy from dusk to dawn. Men and women, Palestian scarves draped on their head or their necks will go from masjid to masjid and join saf after saf to send collective duah and collective salaah and rememberance of Allah SWT. Although in the foreground of my mind I am busy with house and chores and garden and preparation and meetings, there is an excitement that is inexplicable in my Ruh. It has always been thus.

My belief is that on one’s life trajectory Allah SWT places people in your path and you in the path of others - beacons of lights to illuminate the way to self-realisation. For most of us Allah has also afforded us two stars that never set, in the form of parents who have unwavering concern for our souls; who remind us to make our ibadah; to be thankful; to be gracious; to stand up when we stumble and would even switch places with us to shield us from harm. Beyond that these lights mainly appear in the form of teachers and lecturers.

I thought that beacons of light illuminates the way, the physical spaces and places that we are familiar with, give us that feeling of groundedness. Like the Wembley. Do you remember the feeling that you had when you walked into Shaiks Exotics? The hessian bags of masalas and rice and spice in the front. The counter with an array of dates and dried fruits and nuts and glazed ginger and figs and the like. I knew that anything I ever needed would be behind that counter such as Iranian saffron and vanilla pod and fresh cherries and while I was oohing and aahing the kids could go bos with the books. Another little shop for fresh supplies all year round thank you Allah is still there, I have to check the name in Earnest Road, for sure I would find fresh coconuts or prawns and other delights. And I miss the Rosmead! Hiring carpet shampoo machines and rows and rows of delights that would grace my table with personal advice.

And then I went down memory lane in Salt River. Is it just me or has that landscape changed? There used to the Phillips Brothers and Obelwisch (sp?) and a bookshop and the Kupugani and fabric shops with haberdashery counters and old school barber shops and Babbi shops on every corner such as Baaboo and Karjiker and Allie and Parker and Gaibie etc with those jars of delicious sweets and who knew all the local skinner.  All the last minute shopping for Eid and Christmas could be done in Salt River with a last stop for a piping bag in Durham Avenue and a quick walkaround at the market –which now is decorated with second hand plumbing stuff and toilets.

This has been the case of many places such as Walmer Estate where mostly older people live now, their kids are out on the Cape Flats or in Rondebosch East. And the same has been the case for some spaces in the Bokaap where parents started selling off their homes which has been turned into restaurants. This feeling of dislocation makes one look for familiar places, well at least it does for me.

So last night I ended the day to watch Nouman Ali Khan to see why he inspires so many Muslim youth in my class and all over the world.  And well I do feel inspired today. That’s why I am sitting at the computer pounding out my thoughts.

Plant food and enjoy preparing for Eid and go sight the moon!

Yasmine

wild mushroom tarts and brioche 26 July

In the name of Allah most gracious most merciful.

bearded caterpillar on our wall

 Lailatul Qadr night was truly for us as Capetonians did in the time of no electricity -"Kersopsteek aand". As we were just starting our taraweeg we were plunged in darkness. Praying by the light of the candle was something else hey.

There is something to be said about hoarding I think there is bad hoarding and there is good hoarding.  Collect and hoard until you find yourself entering the Qabr. So that’s the bad hoarding that Allah SWT reminds us not to do because one’s life passes in a blink you enter your grave.

The hoarding, maybe that’s not a good word then, let’s say I am talking about preserving - those boxes that we stash things in. And on a day like today you think that’s an oulike wooden chest let me clear it out. Inside you find all kinds of memorabilia and that book that were hunting for; an old report; old receipts you kept which gives you an idea of what things cost and the money you spent on schooling. A receipt that reads:

23 March 2000.

Abutilon - Red emperor

Seeds Kirstenbosch

Narcissus

Bulbs irises golden

Two grow packs - veg and flowers

Thank you for shopping at Stodels.

But what I love best are those little notes and drawings when your kids were still toddlers, Abu’s colourful fez and small bokbaardjie. Priceless.

I love that I found my practical encyclopedia of Whole Foods by Nicola Graimes! All the groups of vegetables and fruits and grains, legumes etc are beautifully explained with health benefits and buying and storing advice in the half of the book and the second half the most awesome recipes, such as red onion and goats cheese pastries and wild mushroom and Fontina tarts. Must get to learn to make them Italian cheeses inshaAllah!

The weather has been quite unpredictable hey, raining the one moment and a rainbow emerges the next, so just as we hang out the towels a deluge hits and we’re back to square one. It does not seem to deter the poppies from reaching for the sky and little buds all over. The seedlings in warm places do their thing, I am just anxious to see black-seedlings emerge inshaAllah. The marigolds are cheerful whatever the weather and the veggies in the crate continue to prosper, see the pics at the end of the blog!

It seems that we may be having Eid on Tuesday, I am relieved for one more day of finding those little things that I forgot to buy. So, we’re off to sight the moon tomorrow at dusk inshaAllah. This is a ritual practice of our family since the 90s and it is an awesome gathering. Picnic baskets and families and friends on blankets in Seapoint, saf after saf in sajdah. The grass is probably wet so we must think to take some waterproofing for underneath the salaah mats.

But for today, I am making baklava to serve with yoghurt and fruit, Azrah wants to make a Cloud cake or roulade but best made closer to time. The baklava needs to sit a day or two for the citrusy syrup to soak into the phyllo. I will be cooking an eyepiece of corned beef to serve with mustard, salads and freshly baked brioche. The jury is still out for what’s for Eid lunch.

Later

Plant food and bake brioche

ps. I use this recipe IT IS FOOLPROOF!  http://www.finecooking.com/recipes/authentic-brioche.aspx

Sunbirds, wild dagga and makataan melons

In the name of Allah most gracious most merciful

24th night of Ramadhan 1435 (11.45)

lavender in concrete

Alhamdulilaah for the blessings of the last ten days of Ramadhan. This year my husband and son are not on I’tikaaf, this year our son leads us in Taraweeg and it is wonderful, standing behind him and following every garf. We all enjoyed the men being off to I’tikaaf though: my daughter and I spent quality time, made our taraweeg at home, listened to Mufti Menk, completed our khatams by the 27^th night, chatted, experimented with new things. We packed in the boeka foods; me little lipstick kiss notes and had it delivered just before the Muathin called. The menfolk loved the time away making friends in kiyaam, sharing food and advice and inspiring one another to wholesome living. Sometimes a bit of time away from your partner, makes you reappreciate them.

Last night we had an incomparable Iftaar - the first away from home this whole Ramadhan, my sister in law is an exceptional cook. I had access to the Nikon again and took pics of their beautiful urban garden, mashaAllah! but more about that later. So as we’re busy scrambling around the last 15 minutes, we ask one another, “how is your khatam coming along?” and I am the first to confess I am lagging behind desperately, complaining that I am not managing my time well. And she sheepishly confesses to exactly the same. The wonderful thing is that we encourage one another to keep abreast despite all of the chores, other obligations and so we reaffirm our niyyah to catch up on more or less 3 chapters.

The thing about getting older is that one does not care as much about what others think or say to you or of you but more about what your Maker expects of you. So today I got down to it and am closer on date with my chapters. I delegate to others to take the milk tarts out of the oven - I am off to a leisurely Asr, bring the heat of the konfyt down kanala - I am reciting and please Abu I will write your article for the newsletter on Piaget after I am done with my juz (smiley face).

Plus I have had time to complete the watermelon konfyt, left some pieces to glaze on the board, tried to take some pics of the sunbirds to show you and wrote up some research. I also had time to google “flowers that love sunbirds”, email to my kids abroad, organized a tour with learners to the Seed organization; as well enquire as to where to learn about making sumptuous Italian cheeses. Did you know that the name of the flowers at the back of our yard is called Leonotis leonurus also known as wild dagga and part of the mint family. I did not know that. I was told that infusions of wille dagga has wonderful medicinal properties for asthma and cancer. So there you have it wild dagga attracts the sunbirds to your garden.

I’m just posting this blog less writing and a pictures exposè, and then I’m off to get completely on schedule with reciting InshaAllah. Whilst Abu brings us a snack of salty cracks, cheese and waterlemoen konfyt!!!

 

Plant food and don’t neglect your personal khatams.

Yasmine

This is the garden

This is the garden at the back of the house

Where the dog jumps over and the wild dagga grows

that attracts the sunbirds

This is the makataan that also grows there

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A gift from the neighbour that Desiree peeled and Luqmaan pricked

That Yasmine prepared

 

This is dried ginger added to the cauldron

 

that cooked the preserve

 

 

 And this is the Konfyt of midnight snacks, of gifts for friends that our tables will grace - culture in a jar!

 

 Thank you Allah!!!!

 

Watermelon konfyt – preserving culture in a jar.

In die naam van Allah, die barmagtigste die genadigste.

Fom ispot.org.za

19 July  2014

The saga with the dog continues but has taken a good turn, Alhamdulilah. I think our neighbours are remembering to keep the gate closed, well most times. I still find spoor the size of my palms in the new beds and mines here and there.

But last week – a peace offering. The gentleman was busy cleaning their back patch to make space for planting out his strawberries and gave us about 7 makataan melons. “Watermelon konfyt, yay!”, was my first thought. Then reality seeped in and I realised the amount of work involved. I became crafty seeing as my bartering and haggling skills are sharpening. “Aunty Desiree would you help me to skin just two of these melons, scoop out the fleshy parts and cut them into roughly 6 cm squares? I will give you some of the konfyt when it’s done.” "Luqmaan would you prick the rinds for me and I will take your drying off turn?" Rubbing my hands gleefully I filled the 10 L bucket and added a very heaped tablespoon of slaked lime. I checked every piece and immersed them. Then I looked around for something heavy to keep them submerged. Light bulb moment! –  I closed it with a black bag and placed one of the extra melons on top. (please let me know if anyone would like some melons, I have a few more, just keep the seeds for me!)

My last batch earlier this year, embarrassingly, was not as crisp as usual and I think its because I was impatient to cook them so just left them overnight instead of 48 hours.  They were good but a bit mushy and I cut them up into little blocks more like watermelon jam, and sat in the cupboard for a long time. Well seeing that it is Eidul Fitr round about the 28^th July and it would make wonderful gifts in small jars and seeing though it’s a wonderful way to preserve and my family adores it on slices of warm baked bread with a sliver of brie to accompany it – I am taking the risk again.

Agurkies From Ella's garden blogspot

My Mom and mother in law were experts in this field. My Mom’s particular expertise was making agurkie (gerkin?) preserve or konfyt as we say here in Cape Town and watermelon. Can someone please find me some agurkies? My mother in law made the best groen vye konfyt (greenfig preserve), sourfigs and apricots and I learnt from them both. Besides it makes for wonderful offerings of friendship and an excellent home industry opportunity.

So tomorrow evening I will rinse each and every piece thoroughly, boil a big pot of water and drop a few pieces in at a time. I will boil them for about 15 minutes or until they are just done then I will allow them to sit in in the strainer while I cook the syrup. A guestimate of the weight ( alas no scale) I would put at about 4 kg and the rule of thumb is 500gr of sugar for 500gr of fruit – ‘n pond vir ‘n pond. So its about 8 L of water, but I will start with 4 L to get the syrup thicker first and keep the water to add as it cooks thick.

Making konfyt is a long process so better not to be impatient, it is going to cook rapidly for the first ¾ to an hour and then bring the heat right down low and slow cook for another two hours or until the rinds turn translucent, then blemishes of white will indicate its nearly done. When the colour evens through again you will know that the syrup has cooked through the fruit completely, remembering to add the bits of the rest of the waters. My Mom used to say: “Yasmine gooi ‘n skootjie water op die konfyt of it sal aanbrand.”

 Will keep you in the loop as the saga continues but don’t expect pictures if it flops. Or maybe I should post them, we don’t relish peoples failures on this blog we celebrate them (smiley face).

Plant food but watch yourself with preserves if you are diabetic.

Yasmine

 

Ornate gates, door stoppers and pastry wheels

In the name of Allah most gracious most merciful.

from www.123rf.com

18 July 2014.

As we got busy turning out house for the last ten days of Ramadhan, I could not help but notice the door stopper (a brick with fabric around it) needed a bit of a face lift. So I rummaged around for pieces of fabric that was kind of durable but pleasing to the eye. And I started thinking why not look around for an unusual doorstopper, a piece of driftwood or an unusual piece of rock like when I was a child. I took particular notice of the kinds of door stoppers that people had at their front doors. The Cape wind can be hectic and no one likes a door banging, particularly a glass door, so it was always something heavy that could really solidly keep the door in check.  I thought that it would give me an idea of what the particular family was about.

One house that we visited had a shoe mould another a tall coal iron; an unusual squarish piece of wood, a metal object of sorts, huge rock and so on and so forth. We had something at our door that was fairly interesting – arty, smooth with some ridges and texture. You’ll probably never guess – a piece of melted nylon, a loved monstrosity- so much for what our family was about. But that got me thinking of other things that have just vanished over time.

Brass pastry wheels with the wheel on the one side and a tablespoon measure on the other (can’t remember when mine disappeared). No one wears aprons any longer. I lie, I don’t wear aprons and those housecoats, hate them! I think I learnt the art of "cooking from afar" coming from work poised with spoon stirring pot and my feet planted a metre away, leaning over – not a spot on my clothes. I must confess though that I love giving them as gifts and my daughter loves to wear one in case of splatter, those no-fuss striped ones.

And where did those candles holders go? The ones with the curled little handle, I go crazy when the saucers are full of wax. And what about those durable wooden chopping boards – everything is made with bamboo of late. And ja, I like the marble ones but they’re so heavy on the wrist and plastic ones are probably OK but I’d  give anything for a teak chopping board and don’t mind to spend my time scrubbing it with vinegar every few days and out into the sun.

buttons in haberdashery drawer

My daughter started a button collection and for the life of me I could not find much buttons around (she cuts off all the extra ones on our clothes). So I miss those little haberdashery shops with the drawers of interesting buttons and I love to scrimmage around to find some of the same. Which makes me remember the other day my son went through my writing bureau looking for needles and cotton and I realised that I used to have a very ornate box of sewing supplies with pins (on a pin cushion), needles, threads of all colours and different thickness, zips and you know the interesting things that’s usually in a sewing kit. I suppose then Tupperware came along with its neat little compartmentalised box.

So as I am in such an artsy fixy mood, maybe I should paint our gate and make it a bit ornate like the gates in North Africa, each one exquisite and unique.  Maybe I should paint it the colour of azure stones or terracotta, just maybe.




 

OK enough already with the maybe’s, let’s have another small excerpt of the book that I hope to publish one day, a section on my childhood in District Six.

 

Saturdays arrived with much anticipation as we could - for 5 cents go to the bioscope at the Silver Tree Clubhouse to see Charlie Chaplin, The Three Stooges, Gé Korsten or a western. We would stand for hours in a queue that snaked all around the clubhouse, sit in neat rows of chairs waiting for the movie operator to start. When the rows were filled up, we would opt to sit on the floor in front of the screen or stand on the balcony looking down. It was a real treat when we could go to a real movie house like the Avalon Bioscope or the Gem. We would scream with anticipation for the movies of Dracula and Werewolf. Our stomachs would ache of laughter at the antics of Jerry Lewis and Peter Sellers and we would cry with Mother India and for Boot Polish.

Sundays one would wake up to warmly sugared koeksisters; churchbells ringing in the distance; the aroma of cumin and coriander and the pounding of the mortar and pestle filled every home. Sundays were special. Lunch was special. Sundays were for dressing up and hair curled in brown paper strips and polishing school shoes. My Tietie (honour name for eldest sister) would bath us and curl our hair and make all kinds of styles that she saw in magazines. A walk to the Company Gardens and watching the goldfish and squirrels, the cherry on top.

We had a lounge area that housed a round oak table.  On the walls of most homes in District Six, one would find Rakams with Arabic Calligraphy of the names of Allah and the Prophet Muhamad (peace and blessings upon him) and pictures of the Ka’aba. But I am sure that I am correct when I say that there were many homes too with paintings or copies of the Dying Swan by Trechikov the Tahitian Girl or the Lily lying the steps. We had a beautiful print of lemons and limes that also graced out wall.

One day my father decided that he would build my Mom a fireplace. So painstakingly, he would gather slate from the mountain quarry with the help of my brothers and built her this beautiful black slate fireplace. The fireplace became the mantelpiece of our home where my Mom placed her most valued brass and ornaments and her best plants: fancy leafs and hen and chicken. Only many years later did I realise it was an ornamental fireplace, we lived on the second floor and there was no chimney. The remnants of it lay buried under the byways of District Six.

Our first car was a Peugeot 303, a green one. How we all managed to fit into it still amazes me. Our street wound up a very steep hill, cars would labour up slowly in first or second gear to arrive at the top. My brothers would sometimes borrow the car until my father discovered that if he took out the rotor arm, the car would sleep peacefully for the night.

My father was a builder and worked for a company called Glazier or Glaciers. Every night my sister and I would run up the hill to De Waal drive where we would fight over carrying his satchel. What was in his satchel? A trough, a yellow level, a hantoch and a plumb line. When he got home we would fight once again to be the first to loosen his laces and take off his cement-caked boots. The early evening would end off by much tickling and him sitting on an arm chair with his cup of tea and his newspaper.

Wednesday nights were sherbet nights, different sherbets and Smarties. Sometimes we would get the sherbet in a packet with a lolly pop to dip or it would be in miniature plastic baby bottles. My cousin’s husband Boeta Kaa (Abubakr shortened ??) worked at Stuttafords as an alteration tailor and on Thursday nights when he got paid, he would bring sweetie pies and spearmint gums for all the children. 

Every two weeks my father would visit the barber, Boeta Balla, at the Castlebridge for a haircut and a good dose of current events in the community and in the country. My father always came home at exactly the same time every night. One could set your clock by it. So when he was late we knew that he was at the barber. In fact, my Mom also sent us to the barber to have our hair cut.

Once Boeta Balla got carried away chatting and cut my hair too short. He quickly made up a story of how fashionable women in Europe wore their hair and for good measure made a moesie with kohl on our chins in case anyone thought we were not girls. So when the neighbourhood kids teased us, my sister and I would lift up our chins and say that we had Italian Boy haircuts. After that I was no longer called Yasmine but “Italian Boy haircut”.

Plant food and make interesting door stoppers or maybe an ornate gate or have an Italian boy haircut?

Yasmine