A collection of stories by South Africans
A collection of stories by South Africans
Find all archived stories and new ones at https://andreamidsentence.substack.com/
As a South African, how many koeksisters have you eaten in your lifetime? Tons, right? And if you’re not South African, well, it’s not your fault and you can make up for it by consuming titanic amounts of our favourite treat (and supporting the Springboks).
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It was a school day. We were at Stanger High, my dad (Mr Aitchison) was the principal and our English teacher was late for class.
We built a guillotine. And thus was born “the guillotine party” in celebration of the French Revolution. Vive la France, Vive la liberté. But as Dickens said, it was the best and worst of times…Madame had her own Reign of Terror in sunny South Africa.
We were visiting my grandpa Ray at his plot in Ashburton, Natal. And it was raining worms—thousands. No, millions. Look down and a worm could drop on your head, look up and you’d burst a bunch underfoot. I’m from Joburg, the suburbs—we have parktown prawns but mopane rain…jislaaik.
There it was. Delicious, spongy, oozy, drippy, squidgy Malva Pudding. And then it was gone. Obliterated. Not by an army of South Africans “after the braai” but by one wily 20-year-old.
It was to the backdrop of dust and fynbos that I was served my first vetkoek for breakfast (by a regte egte tannie nogal).
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Many years, five children and a new continent later – staring out into the garden of my North London rental and wondering about the friends of my youth – I thought…chocolate Marie Biscuit fudge, and attacked aunty Google with shameless desperation.
I knew immediately when they had spotted us; the Cujos went berserk. I froze. And tried to think past the I-am-going-to-eat-your-heart-out-if-you-so-much-as-breathe noises that were emanating from the barking banshees above me to the right.
As dark descended we imagined thousands of impis creeping their way through the long grass, closer and closer to the mission—and then the sudden light upon their faces as the Red Coats set the roof on fire. Guns firing, assegais penetrating; the vicious cries of war.
The Parktown Prawn is a browney-orangey-reddish colour, with long spiked legs and piranha-like teeth that it uses to eat the meat of its enemies—cats, dogs, people and the odd bird…people. Some reasons why you wouldn’t want to meet a prawn in a dark alley…