In the bustling streets of
The Scent of Home
As a little girl, whenever we expected visitors to our home, my mother would always make sure that as they walked through the door the scent of lamb stew, roasted chicken and caramelised sweet potatoes would waft from the kitchen. She would tantalise them with a beautifully laid table, silver cutlery laid just right, as they made their way past it and through to the lounge for pre-lunch drinks.
Laughter and the clinking of glasses could be heard as our guests sipped on beverages my father had mixed so smoothly from his well-stocked bar. Shyly, us girls, my sister and I, would whisk the cool potato salad garnished with sliced boiled eggs and sprinkled with parsley to the dining room. There’d also be the carrot and pineapple salad, which touched the glands at that particular spot; the beetroot salad, which every African family always had on the table; coleslaw, which always made that endless chopping and slicing worth it; and, of course, some variation of a bean or pasta salad.
But it always started with a small kitchen and those silver pots. Just plain silver pots, some knives and a few spoons, and a whole lot of vegetables, but always just plain silver pots.
Sakhumzi Maqubela
As a little boy living in apartheid
That meant the coal stoves had been lit, the kitchens were warm and mom was preparing dinner. Perhaps dad was home, reading the paper or listening to the gospel show on radio, sipping on rooibos tea and the siblings would be taking their evening baths in the silver or plastic tubs in the one bedroom we all shared.
No matter what happened out there; in the kitchen, in the home, when a steaming plate of food was put before you, nothing mattered except the love with which the meal had been prepared and served.
Sakhumzi Restaurant
In 2002 Sakhumzi knew what his mother had passed on to him, the home as well as the love of food which could be turned into something special. Taking initiative, he opened the doors of the family home to the public, creating what is now famously known as Sakhumzi Restaurant – a place to enjoy cuisine cooked and served the African way.
‘We could be sitting in what was his bedroom,’ laughs Linda, the manager at the restaurant as he explains the humble beginnings of Sakhumzi’s.
Born in
African Food
Of course at the time that the small family-centred dining room was once his bedroom, a stone’s throw away school children were gathering in 1976 to protest against Afrikaans as the language of instruction. As I look out the window from the warm dining room, that past is eclipsed in memory perfectly preserved, but in the room where voices join in camaraderie and laughter rings above the low melodies of African music.
At the serving station I am met by trays of umqusho (boiled mealies cooked with sugar beans), umgodu (well seasoned tripe), spicy cabbage, morogo (wild spinach), cinnamon-flavoured pumpkin, boerewors, chakalaka (a spicy salad made from carrots and beans) and other dishes familiar to any person from the townships.
‘Our food is simple,’ explains Linda cajoling us to fill our plates at the buffet, ‘we don’t use a lot of spice except to enhance the flavour’
Creating Employment
When Sakhumzi’s opened it was just the small dining room with the room at the back, now used as a conference centre. The bar, though small, stocks all types of beer, spirits and wines, even catering for the more expensive palate in the form of Johnny Walker Blue Label, Dom Perignon and Veuve Cliquot. As the restaurant has expanded a larger dining room has been built outside catering for 70 people downstairs and another 70 upstairs.
It is with laughter that Linda tells the stories of how they used to hire staff as and when they needed when they first started, but now, with 48 full time employees, the success of the business has meant the process is more vigorous. Nonetheless, it has created employment for community members. Indeed, Sakhumzi has achieved what he set out to do, as Linda reiterates:
‘The reason Sakhumzi started this restaurant was to create employment in the township.’
Soul Food
Over eight years, the restaurant has become a success. Indeed, township-style restaurants have sprouted across the country offering the promise of soul food, but whether it’s catering to corporate clients, visitors to our shores or just the local residents who enjoy food of the earth and embrace the colourful vibe, there is no doubt that Sakhumzi’s has that special something.
‘What is it?’ I ask, my eye fixed on a portrait hanging next to the door of a bare-breasted Zulu maiden adorned in her fine beadwork and clapping her hands. I sense the movement of her legs in the painting, I see her joy, the sparkle in her eye and the opening of her mouth.
‘They feel at home,’ Linda answers, looking around. ‘It’s crazy, but sometimes you get customers who just want a meal but because of what we offer, they end up staying the whole night.’
‘So what time do you close?’ I ask again.
‘When the last customer leaves.’
Just Like Mom’s
I look at the painting again. The maiden dances to welcome us. She is honoured to have us here. We will partake of the feast and be a part of the celebrations. It was like that at my mother’s house. Long after we had had our bath and dressed in our pyjamas and ready to sleep, we would lie next to her looking on as they danced, talked, drank and celebrated. I would ask my mother the next morning what time she had gone to bed and she would respond, ‘when the last visitor left.’
