HERITAGE COLOURS: Dollar Brand, Fugard’s Tearoom, Gandhi’s Tea, Mama Africa and The Baxter
Remember tunes like Manenbergm, anthem of a liberation struggle?
Abdullah Ibrahim made it kwaai. A deep red kind of kwaai.
Remember bulls eyes and scones and crème soda floats? Yes you do. It’s all coming back. Master Harold and the Boys were there.
No milk, thank you. No sugar. He is not an English lady. And he thinks Western Civilization is an excellent idea. He lived in Durbs once, you know. He did South Africa proud.
Miriam Makeba’s voice was like creamed honey.
Okay alright then, it was like double chocolate malt.
There was only one Mama Afrika.
Orange you glad it’s this big and cheeky? Don’t you just love how the Sixties came and slapped the Fifties in the face? Dancers and thespians, The Baxter is Cape Town’s tribute to you.
HERITAGE COLOURS: Arniston White, St James White, Surfer’s Corner, Westcliff Terrace and Two Oceans
In February, the sun hammers down on the crunchy white sand. That’s not snow white, that’s blister white. Wear slip slops and sunblock, and don’t get tangled up in the old fishermen’s ropes.
St James White
Little old white cottages.
Big old white sharks.
Train tracks in between.
White weddings every Saturday in the stone church between the mountain, the sky and the sea.
It’s warmer this side, in False Bay. None of that icy water that bites your bones. Sharks? What sharks? Where? OK. Let’s go catch a wave and a samoosa from the Majestic Cafe. And pick up some wax from Corner Surf.
At night, zoo lions groan. Do they mourn the bushveld? Do they not know they sleep on prime real estate? Can’t they smell the Pimm’s?
On the Atlantic side it’s cold, on Indian side it’s warm. Somewhere in the middle, it must be perfect. Just don’t let the baboons jump into your car.