Cass Abrahams se lewe met kos

Goeiemôre

Die beste ding van dié tyd van die jaar is hoe my tuin sy allerbeste somerskleed aantrek. En my ander beste ding is die Bargain Books-uitverkoping. Soos gereelde lesers van die brief sal weet, het ek 'n ietwat problematiese obsessie met kookboeke. En boekwinkels.

Eens op tyd was hier 'n Exclusive Books in Oos-London, maar nou het ons net Bargain Books en is ek al dik vriende met die mense wat daar werk. Hulle stuur sommer vir my foto's op WhatsApp van boeke wat hulle dink ek van gaan hou. So kry ek die week 'n foto van A Life with Food deur Cass Abrahams. Dit is nie 'n nuwe boek nie, dis al in 2015 gepubliseer. Maar wát 'n boek!

Cass Abrahams is natuurlik die legendariese kenner van Kaaps-Maleise kookkuns. 'n Suid-Afrikaanse ikoon. In dié boek vertel sy haar lewensverhaal met 'n snydende eerlikheid, maar ook met groot humor. En deel sy tussendeur ook haar wonderlike resepte.

Dit is my perfekte tipe kosboek – 'n vervlegting van kos en kultuur en herinneringe en geskiedenis en huis en hart en vreugde en hartseer.

Hierdie boek vertel beter as enigiets anders wat ek al ooit gelees het, wat apartheid aan mense gedoen het. Op so 'n gedempte, menslike manier dat dit jou hart aan flarde sny. Maar dit vertel ook op so 'n sagte, mooi manier hoe Cass, 'n Engelssprekende Katoliek, verlief raak op 'n Moslem, Afrikaanssprekende Kapenaar, en hoe sy die geloof en kultuur en kos omarm. Hierdie boek het my met tye tot trane geroer.

Ek het dit gister van hoek tot kant gelees. My dogter het langs my op die bed gelê terwyl ek vir haar stukke daaruit gelees het. Sy was ook gemesmeriseer. En vanaand gaan ek vir ons Cass Abrahams se denningvleis maak en sagopoeding vir agterna. Suid-Afrikaanse hartskos. Cass Abrahams se hartskos.

Ek wens ek het die Afrikaanse weergawe van die boek gehad. Terwyl Cass eintlik Engels grootgeword het (maar ook isiXhosa en Gujurati leer praat het as kind), vertel sy hoe sy op UWK leer Afrikaans praat het, en toe natuurlik met 'n Afrikaanssprekende man getrou het. En die band met Afrikaans is diep, want haar pa was 'n Afrikaans-onderwyser.

Maar ek haal uit die Engelse weergawe aan, want ek wil haar unieke stem behou.

Oor haar eerste herinneringe aan kos skryf sy:

“Time passed, and before I knew it, I was three years old and living with my grandma, Hendrika Jegels, in the centre of Johannesburg. It was a bustling, cosmopolitan area called City & Suburban, almost like District Six in Cape Town. The Group Areas Act was already in place but wasn't policed that strictly yet. White, black and coloured people lived together side by side and in harmony.

“My earliest memories of food are of my granny's food. Food so good that it planted seeds so deep in my consciousness that many years later, I still earn my daily bread with the preparation of food. My grandma was the chef for the erstwhile mayor of Johannesburg. Friday was her day off, and Friday was baking day in Granny's house."

In 1949 verloor Cass se pa sy werk as Afrikaans-onderwyser by 'n Indiese skool in Fordsburg. “We never really knew the reason," vertel sy.

“We couldn't afford a house or a car anymore, so we moved to Moroko Township, just outside Soweto. There, one could live for free and build a hut of mud brick, with floors and walls sealed with cow dung. There was no money for windows and doors either – for the two years we lived there, we used to hang multi-coloured blankets in front of these openings.

“My mother learnt to make something of nothing. She couldn't cook, but she was innovative. I absolutely loved the deep-fried chicken guts. We used to pull the chicken guts over the mouth of an outside tap to wash them squeaky clean. My mother then dried them, rolled them in spices and deep-fried them in fat. This was a stokstywe treat that you could hold in your hand and eat from the top down. (These days, when Jowa and the kids aren't watching, I still cook this treat for myself and smile about the extremely difficult but good old days.")

Toe bied 'n skatryk Indiese familie haar pa 'n werk aan as Afrikaans-onderwyser by die Islamic Institute, 'n skool in Johannesburg. Hulle bly weer in 'n regte huis, kan 'n kar koop, en Cass se raakvatter-ma maak 'n kafeetjie oop waar sy kruideniersware verkoop.

Dit gaan goed met die familie, totdat haar pa een nag in die bors geskiet word toe hy gaan ondersoek instel na 'n geluid wat hy buite hoor. In die deurmekaar en desperate poging om die gewonde man by die hospitaal te kry, sluit Cass se ma hulle boetie in die spens toe. Haar pa word met sy aankoms by die hospitaal dood verklaar, en Cass se ma word met 'n kalmeermiddel ingespuit. Sy kom eers die volgende oggend by die huis.

“He had been trapped in the pantry all night in his pyjamas soaked in my father's blood. Frank was hoarse from all the screaming, and he was still trying to wipe the blood from his pyjamas. He was just two years old at the time and had just started speaking. He stopped speaking that night and only spoke again twelve years later. He was never really the same child ever again. None of us were."

Cass maak matriek klaar by 'n Katolieke-kosskool in Tongaat, en gaan daarna universiteit toe in Lesotho.

“Our mathematics professor, Prof Ushkaparsky, was from Russia, and [in] Zoology, we had Prof. Thulani from Lesotho. A famous botanist who had studied at the Sorbonne in Paris taught us Botany. Madame Kofflers was an elegant French lady, and I was one of her favourite students. She often asked me to help her search for orchids in the Lesotho mountains."

In 'n hoofstuk getiteld “Playing White" vertel sy oor vakansiewerk in Johannesburg.

“It was a reserved position, which meant that the applicants had to be classified ‘white'. I applied and got the job. Apparently, I looked ‘white enough', but I certainly did not feel ‘white’ enough. I also didn't speak ‘white’. I especially couldn't speak Afrikaans. Don't worry, the man, the manager, said, assessing me from top to toe. ‘You speak proper English, and you're nice and light, and your hair is OK'. 

“I enjoyed the job, but I was scared ... very scared that somebody would recognise me and report that I was actually classified as coloured while doing a white person's job. I wondered if they could send me to jail if I got caught out.

“Later on, I realised that I had inherited my fear of white people – a fear that made me suffer so much during that time – from my mother."

Cass ontmoet haar man, Jowa, toe hy haar optel terwyl sy as student van UWK na haar blyplek in Athlone ryloop. Haar ma is aanvanklik nie vreeslik opgemaak met die “Slaamse" man met wie sy uiteindelik wil trou nie.

“What neither of us realised is that Jowa's parents also had their misgivings about me. I was a devout Catholic, and I couldn't cook properly. Food is very important to the Cape Malay people".

Sy vertel 'n staaltjie oor hoe sy Jowa se vriende na haar hoor verwys as 'n ‘Adonis'.

“I piped up that I was not an Adonis. I am a nooi Weimers. My surname is Weimers!

“The whole group burst out laughing. This is when I found out that an Adonis was an insulting term used for a coloured of the Christian faith who spoke English – this is considered pretentious."

Anyway, my verhaal raak nou baie lank. Soos julle kan aflei weet ek nie regtig waar om te vat en te los met my vertelling oor die boek nie. Alles is eenvoudig lieflik. Koop dit, leen dit, bedel dit.

(Daar is byvoorbeeld ook die mooi verhaal hoe Jowa, 'n kranige rugbyspeler, uiteindelik sy Springbokbaadjie kry by 'n geleentheid met Nelson Mandela. Tydens apartheid kon swart en bruin spelers nie Springbokke word nie.)

Ek het drie ekstra eksemplare van die boek gekoop. Ek kondig vandag die name aan van die drie mense wat die Desember-boekgeskenk kry (sien hieronder). Maar kom ons speel weer dieselfde speletjie.

Stuur vir my 'n e-pos na anneliese@vryeweekblad.com met die naam van een persoon aan wie ek 'n uitnodiging kan stuur om vir Vrye Weekblad te registreer. Ons gaan wel in Februarie agter 'n betaalmuur, maar ons daaglikse nuusbriewe bly gratis.

Ek sluit af met die volgende aanhaling.

“I will never forget the first time I ate traditional Cape Malay cooking – I would never have guessed that Jowa's Malay culture would inspire my great love affair with food. The flavours and textures, the taste and aroma, the origin and tradition of the Cape Malay people's food brought me ‘home' to discover my roots at last."

Dit is wat kos doen. Dit bind ons aan ons wortels. En aan mekaar.

Salige Sondag

Anneliese

When I am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

- Mary Oliver

Hier onder is die aller-lieflikste voorlesing van hierdie gedig deur die musikant Amanda Palmer.

♦ VWB ♦

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