Awê Ma Se Kinnes!

The funniest meme I saw last week went something along the lines of: for my wedding, I’m having a bring-and-braai, so that you when go home you can skinne about your OWN food! Lol.  For our non South African friends, skinne means gossip.

If you grew up in South Africa, and more particularly if you grew up on the cape flats, you would know that guests have a juicy skinne about the food that you served at your wedding.  And they don’t even wait until they get home.  It happens in the uber already. Essentially, your wedding was fabulous if your food was fabulous. But weddings are a discussion for another day. This past weekend many of us seriously got involved with braai’ing.  Heritage Day mos. So if you will, allow me to shine the spotlight on the drama around throwing a bring-and-braai in Cape Town.

The rest of the world calls it a barbeque which is just not quite the same thing. A braai is a braai ok. And we will not call it a barbeque. Everrrr.

Before I get stuck into the rules of a bring-and-braai, allow me to say that the most wonderful thing you can do is throw a braai and provide everything. Meat, Salad, Drinks, Alles. But that can prove to be quite costly if you’re a normal hard-working, tax-paying South African whose not been granted a tender. So bring-and-braai it is.

There are rules people:

The Babalas; don’t arrive at my bring-and-braai dik babalas. Heavily hungover. No no no NO!  You knew it was my birthday and you knew long ago, why was it necessary to get gesuip the night before! Babalas guests annoy me. They just sit in the corner with shades on and contribute very little to the conversation, while painfully sipping on a beer, patiently waiting to start feeling lekke again. And they look terrible on the photo’s. And then actually, to take it back just a few steps, don’t arrive at my braai drunk. Especially if you have relationship issues that you think everyone should be privy to. We are not that interested, yet. Let’s all stay on the same page. Yirre. We are baaing chops ma jy’s al in jou chops.

The Salads; when you say you are bringing along a particular salad, please fulfill your promise. It’s usually up to the host to provide the salads, but you always have that one guest who insists on bringing along her famous creation. Because “nobody makes noodle salad like me”. Well you offered baby, you can’t just wake up on the day and decide that you don’t lus to make that noodle salad that boasts your secret ingredients, noodles and mayo. So please know that I am upset when you just rock up with a tin of baked beans that you bought at the engen garage. Nancy, we relied on the noodle salad. Do the right thing man. Don’t go on.

The Time; respect the host kanalla. There’s a reason the host said 2pm. It’s to ensure that by 8pm, everyone has had a lovely time and is ready to hit the road. Corona has taught us that it is possible to not end up doing karaoke at 1am with the neighbour whatsapping us to please be respectable. So if the invite says 2pm, it means that you must arrive by 3, for the latest. This nonsense of strolling in after 5pm as though you are Drake is unacceptable. This is also usually the kind of person who says “I’m popping in but I won’t eat ne”, “I’m coming from a thing.” This usually turns out to be bullshit because we almost always see Drake later, next to the fire, with a stuk boerewors dangling from his mouth. Yassis.

The Music; check here, it’s my house. Rented but irrelevant right now. I’m the host so you are only allowed to play the role of the DJ if you are requested to do so. And you would usually receive such a request days before.  But you can’t just take over the decks because you lus to hear your numbers. I like Whitney, Wham; Bruno Mars and Elton John. Did I mention Whitney? So you must ma also enjoy them, just for a few hours or so.

The Chommies; ask the host if you can bring along friends. And the answer usually is No. There’s a pandemic, bladdywill. Also, some gatherings with close friends are precious and we don’t want to use time and energy to get to know brand new people. Plus, one in every 9 people is a kleptomaniac. OK I totally made up that stat. My point is, if your house is full of complete strangers, then you have to lock things away. And then the next day you can’t remember where exactly you hid your sunglasses. And then you start accusing innocent people of theft. It just gets messy. So no, kanalla, don’t bring your new friends.

The Meat; if you brought dodgy meat, be bold enough to eat your dodgy meat. You know for a fact that you did not bring the Woolworths braai pack. You have absolutely no business nibbling there.

Your Playstation Children; no they can’t turn on Uncle Marc’s TV because they are bored and brought along their games that sound like Lucifer revving his car just before dicing near Canal Walk. Oe nee. Your children’s games get played at your house. I’m not going to finish that equation.  Lol

But jaaa. We love a good braai. And we absolutely love our friends. Hope you had a great Heritage day! x