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To my Cape-Malay queen

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Yeah so technically I’m cape – Malay and boy did my gran make sure our heritage was instilled in us.

Today marks a year that she is gone. And my prayer is that the Almighty accepts her as one of his own. I can’t believe it… that firstly I’m driving for a year and secondly that she’s no longer with us…yes I got my licence the same day she passed away.

Today I’m not going into the sadness around her death but mainly the memories she left us with.

My family and I can only but laugh when we speak of her. We got sworn all the “fockens” and “moerins” under the sun. She had a different kind of love for us… a deep love.

we were her debt collectors from small. So she ran a house tuck shop stocking everything from home made pickles. bor and figs to sweets. Chips. Cigarettes. Clothes. She stocked it all. She would allow people to buy on tick and let’s just say Fridays were her collection days . You would see us , my sister and 3 cousins walking the road asking her customers for “our grannies parcel please” dare not pay her…

My granny was strength personified and I think I’m so blessed that all the women in my family were blessed with a different kind of strength. Like now that we older as women and look back at her life… #her strength though

She was the only one from her family that moved from cape town to durban seeking a better life for her kids. She was a hustler of note. Used to run a shabeen to make ends meet and when she was stable, opened her tuck shop. She too was abused. She lived through experiencing the death of her son, he was murdered and his son (her grandson) going out the same way. . .She still kept strong.

Also a women of faith and although didn’t live as a saint would. But she knew her faith and kept to it.

We ate the best of Cape Malay cuisine. From carrot and pea food. To tamatie breedies. To ou-vrou onder die kombers.  The best boeber. Don’t get me started on her home made soup that we were forced to break fast with.

Before our boeke time (time of breaking fast) during our auspicious month of fasting, we would get sent with “barakat” ( a plate of goodies that gets exchanged to break fast)there were only 3 Muslim families in the area and so we were regulars. It was a must for us to deck the table and un deck and clean the kitchen before going to mosque ( when she cooked it was like hurricane katrina happening in the kitchen ) On our eid day she used to get our dresses made by our “designer” uncle Ganif. Lol you don’t want to see those pics.

And you don’t even want me to get into what happened if we didn’t clean her brasso properly. #Hides

She knew everyone and everyone knew her. All the sea man (my grandpa was one). People coming from capetown would all stop by her when in durban. Going to town was something she did daily until she got too old to go. As she got older so did she simmer down a hell of a lot.  She was so fit. And got a peaceful death as she deserved.

Coming from such a diverse background. German and Indian from mum side and Malay and black from dad’s side…we’ really got the best of both worlds. I couldn’t have asked to be born into such an amazing family.

So on this one year of you gone gran. May the almighty reunite us one day in the here after. Hope you keeping them on their toes up there like you did with us.

Love and miss you granny biba.

Posted from Just an ordinary girl

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