Wild Spinach in South Africa: the Gift from Rain

For years, I have seen people collecting a kind of wild plant in the park where we walk our Jack Russel, Ho Chi. My husband had told me that the plant was called wild spinach, but I never thought much of it.

That was until one afternoon, two months ago, when he went out for cycling, I walked Ho Chi to the park. As the sun dipped behind the hills, casting a warm orange glow, the air grew cool. I saw many people picking wild spinach, a common sight in this area at this time of year. I decided to come closer and have a chat with a lady in a bright yellow and black African-print dress. She was alone on this side of the veld separated from a cluster of her counterparts by a footpath. They were picking marog and chattering merrily on the far end of other side. The lady was very friendly. When I asked her what vegetable she was picking, she said she was foraging for marog. They were spreading all over the veld.

Two kinds of green marogs I foraged from my garden.

The marog the lady was carefully picking was the green one. I pointed out the bigger and taller marog to her, but she shook her head and said they were not nice. She preferred the smaller one which were tender and still low to the ground. I asked her how she liked to cook marog, and she said that she cooked it with tomatoes, potatoes and chilies. She added that I could cook marog according to my taste—adding any ingredients I like.

To my surprise, marogs are the plant I used to pick in my garden in Vietnam. After some rain shower, they would sprout up in abundance, and I would harvest them to make a tasty soup. We have two varieties in Vietnam—the red one and the green one—both of which are rich in nutrients. However, the red marog, with its deeper colour, is particularly prized for its ability to boost blood vessel health. This traditional knowledge has been passed down through generations. 

Marog in my pavement garden

Last month I was surprised to see red marog on sale in Pick n Pay, bundled with stems and looking beautifully fresh. It had been eight years since I'd last tasted it, but I could still taste its sweet and earthy taste on my tongue by looking at it. However, my appetite for it had waned, and my husband was unfamiliar with it, so I decided to walk away. 

Marog with smaller leaves in my back garden.
I let it grow and produce seeds. I believe I will have more marogs next year.

After knowing about marog, I see it everywhere I go. It's in the veld, on the pavement, along the lawn, and in my garden. When marog is in the garden, people consider it a weed and try to pull it out. Interestingly enough, I have marog in my back garden and pavement garden this year. I let them grow so that I will have organic vegetables without paying a fortune.

In other countries, marog is known by the name amaranth. 

Last week, I foraged for marog in my pavement garden to make stir-fry. It was my first time cooking marog in South Africa, and I was excited to see how it would turn out. As I cooked, I could smell the familiar scent marog—earthy, fresh and slight sweet—wafting up from the skillet as it was being tossed religiously.

After reading about purslane in a magazine, I felt confident to forage for some in my new home in South Africa. As I wandered through the gardens and parks, I spotted the familiar succulent leaves and stems that I had seen in Vietnam. However, I was not sure if they were the same variety, so I did some further research and read an article about edible weeds in South Africa. Reassured by my findings, I decided to cook up a purslane stir-fry, and the result was a tasty and refreshing dish that I couldn't wait to share with my neighbours.

Purslanes along the edge of my pavement

Purslanes also grow in abundance after the rain in Vietnam. And they also come out like mushrooms after receiving showers of rain.

Those are the red and green purslanes I foraged for from my pavement garden.

Marog and purslane are considered weeds in South Africa, but they're edible. Only the Blacks forage for marog, while the Whites know about it but fail to recognise its nutritional value.

Now I can savour purslane and marog without growing and looking after them like other vegetables.

In Vietnam, we often use purslane and marog to make stir-fries and soups. However, our concept of soup is quite different from the thick, creamy soups that Westerners are accustomed to. Our soups are typically watery, with chunky vegetables. Interestingly, we even have a type of soup that students call 'ocean soup' (canh đại dương), which is served at cheap eateries. As the name suggests, this soup is extremely thin, with a scattering of grape-sized vegetable, making the bowl look like a miniature ocean. I used to eat ocean soup many times throughout my student life, which made me frustrated at the eatery owners who prioritised profits over quality.

A mixed stir-fry of purslanes (left) and marogs (right) I made
Purslane is a kind of succulent, so it releases a lot of moisture when stir-fried. That said, it is perfect for soups.
Purslane has a very lemony flavour, while marog is slightly sweet.

In certain part of Europe, purslane is eaten raw in salads.

Check out the purslane salad recipe and nutritional value of purslane in the video below.

Next time when I make salads, I will toss in some purslane shoots. I'm sure purslane will create healthy summer salads.

Eating what we find in our environment is what our ancestors did thousands of years ago. By doing so, they live in harmony with nature. Today, as prices rise and resources become scarce, adopting sustainable practices can be a valuable strategy. By embracing local, seasonal, and wild foods, we can reduce our reliance on industrial agriculture and promote a more environmentally friendly way of living.

That's all for now, as I bid farewell to 2024 with this final blog post.

Wishing you all the best for 2025.

Mai from Vietnam

Previous post: https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2024/12/mulberry-memories.html

Mulberry Memories

October is the sweetest month in South Africa.  It's the sweetness of roses, of jacaranda and, of course, the sweetness of mulberries.

I did not grow up with bread and mealiepap, and in the same way I did not grow up with mulberries. However, mulberries have become part of my life since I moved to South Africa. I always make mulberry jam. When I see mulberries, I see jam. Nothing else. I don't see silkworms that eat mulberry leaves, albeit the fact that Vietnam is famous for mulberry silk garments.

Many South Africans grow up with mulberries. My client, who was born and grew up in Musina in Limpopo, recalls that she had a garden full of mulberry trees. The mulberry trees were a den for her children to hide away from her strict parental guidance. They loved to pick moerbei* and snack on them on the spot. And they loved to play around in the productive shade.

Besides making jam, mulberries have countless ways of use. South Africans make delicious food from mulberries like mulberry syrup, mulberry compote, mulberry pies, mulberry muffins, and mulberry wine. Those are perfect treats to comfort people who crave sweet food and wine. Some even toss mulberries in salads, which I never try. 

Mulberry jam on sourdough bread buttered with goat butter

Cycling around the suburbs of Pretoria, we spot hundreds of mulberry trees—along the road, in the veld, on the pavement, in somebody's yard. They're laden with mulberries. They are all enjoyed by birds, but birds can't eat them all. Very few people forage for mulberries. As a result, the ground is coated with deep purple from mulberries. Seeing this, we exclaim wistfully: What a waste!

This year, we went to forage for mulberries to make jam, as usual. But this time it was much more fun: the son of our friend, with his girlfriend, joined our mulberry hunt.

Many hands make light work! We picked about five kgs of mulberries from different trees. It took us three and a half hours excluding the driving time to various places.

The weather forecast predicted rain on the day we arranged to go and pick mulberries. We were a bit worried that our great idea would be nipped in the bud by the rain which we all were desperately waiting for. Mulberries are important for jam, but rain is much more important. We would not die without mulberries, but plants and vegetables would die without water. When they die, we would be in a jam.

Luckily, the rain held off while we picked mulberries and poured down later that day when I was rinsing them. So, we'll never forget that the first shower of 2024 fell on the day we picked mulberries—October 15th.

Mixed mulberries we picked: red and deep purple in different varieties

Rain came very late like politicians' promises this year, so mulberries were not as juicy as the previous years. The mulberry tree on Mrs. Malan's yard, which we used to pick mulberries from in one go every year, was trimmed to the top this year. Consequently, we had to hunt for mulberries all over the town. And because more than 50 percent of mulberries were out of reach, even for a 1.90cm-tall person like my friend, we tiptoed and stretched our arms as long as we could. But it was not always a success.

Mulberries we picked in Mrs. Malan's yard on 28 September 2022. They were big and juice and shiny.

We made a plan. Our fellow put his girlfriend on his shoulders and my husband put me on his. We giggled. We wobbled. But we didn't fall. Only our mulberries fell from our hands to our ice-cream containers with grace. People in their vehicle went past and beeped their horn at us. I wondered what they thought. They probably said, 'You're weird' or 'Hello. I see you.'

We went from tree to tree to pick enough mulberries we needed. At one tree by the driveway, one lady drove out. She wound down her car window.  Looking at us with sparkling eyes, she said with a big smile: please pick them all. Hearing that, we all had a good laugh and said: Your wish is my command. I get what she means—mulberries are super sticky and stain your soles like hell when you step on them.

Mulberry jam of 2024
We mix mulberry jam with muesli and double cream plain yogurt for breakfast
A super healthy breakfast, isn't it?

We foraged for both half-ripe and fully ripe mulberries. Then I would mix them together for jam. The half-ripe ones are bright with a red hue. The fully ripe ones are in deep blue and purple, almost black, but they are sugary and succulent. The first ones are gently sour, and the latter is as sweet as sugar. When combined, they complement each other to perfection.

We headed home with five ice-cream containers of mulberries full to the brim. And our hands were painted in deep purple. They really did not look good. I felt like I was a skinny vagabond who just dug out the trash for some food that people threw away. 

Whenever we forage for mulberries, we pick till we are tired. Usually, we will harvest about 5kg. This amount will be aplenty for jam and keep me busy in the kitchen.

When we got home, it was already 14h00. I was so hungry that I stopped to rinse mulberries and looked for something to eat; otherwise, I would faint. I could feel my blood sugar was low—I felt dizzy and weak. I told myself I would doctor up whatever I found in the fridge. The quicker the better. I made myself a slice of toast buttered with avo and no-salt butter. I squeezed some lemon juice on the mashed avo on my bread. A magic moment happened!

My thumb and index finger where mulberries stained turned from deep purple to watermelon red. And eventually the red hue vanished when I rinsed my hand with cold water. I found a trick of getting rid of mulberry stain by accident. What a Eureka moment! However, I did not run around for joy in my birthday suit like Archimedes.

When I first made mulberry jam in 2018, I meticulously snipped off every single stem from the mulberries. It was time-consuming. And it was tedious too. Luckily, at that time I picked only about 1kg of mulberries by myself, so I could manage. Since then, after tasting my divine mulberry jam, my husband joined me in picking mulberries. With the larger quantities, I no longer bother to remove every stem—there are just too many! I wish somebody would do so for me, though!

However, I can't help myself when I see big stems of mulberries sticking out from the simmering pot. I will snip them with my kitchen knife. To make sure I don't miss any big stems which would be an eyesore, I stir the pot to check for more.  Actually, the stems are edible too and turn out to be crunchy and chewy when cooked with brown sugar.

For  my jam, I follow a recipe I have developed  from my experiences.  The ratio is 3kg of mulberries to 1.5kg of brown sugar. By adding enough sugar, I can balance the tartness and thickness of the jam with the sweetness of the sugar. If too much sugar is used, you will lose the true flavours of the fruit. To make the mulberry jam even tastier, I always add a dash of crushed ginger.

My mulberry jam is special because I add no water. Instead, I simmer the mulberries coated in brown sugar until the juice is released and the sugar dissolves. The cooking process is lengthy, but it isn't a big deal—I simply let the pot simmer for hours while I go about my business. Occasionally, I check on the pot and give it a good stir. As the juice thickens and becomes stickier, the pot requires more attention and care. In the end, it took five hours to see 'the end product'—but it was worth it!

Once the juice gets sticky and runs like extra virgin olive oil, I know I need to give my stove a good rest. The jam will become stickier and thicker like honey when it cools down. Then it's time for me to bottle the jam.

Making jam like this is labour-intensive and time-consuming when people prefer something quick and easy those days.  Yet, the result is rewarding. What more can we ask for when we get to enjoy the fruits of our labour? That's the sweetness of making jam!

Regarding mulberry silk fabric which I mentioned earlier, I have an áo dài* that I had custom-made 10 years ago. I very much cherish it and only wear it for special ocasions, like the Lunar New Year celebrations. When I dress up in my red mulberry silk áo dài, I feel like I'm a bilionnaire .

Mulberry silk fabric requires gentle care because it is sensitive to washing powder and direct sunlight. To preserve its quality, I wash it by hand using a mild dishwashing liquid like Sunlight. After washing, I hang it in the shade, where it dries quickly.

This fabric is luxurious: it is as light as feather and as soft as petals. It creates a beautiful, elegant look that's perfect for special occasions. However, it does have one drawback: it wrinkles easily and requires more effort to iron compared to other fabrics. To iron mulberry silk effectively, it's best to do so on the wrong side while the fabric is still slightly damp.

I was dressing up in a mulberry silk áo dài for Tết celebrations hosted by the Embassy of Vietnam in Pretoria

A closer look of my red mulberry silk áo dài I wore to a wedding in 2018

Footnote:

Moerbei*: an afrikaans word for mulberry

Áo dài*: a traditional outfit with two long slit pieces under a loose pair of pants that Vietnamese ladies wear. Áo dài is also worn by Vietnamese men.

Missing dog reunited with owner after seven years

 

Zoey, a black Labrador that went missing in 2017, has been reunited with her owner and is happily back home with her family.

Emma Visser said that she was still in shock, as she had made peace with never seeing Zoey again.

Zoey’s disappearance in 2017 left Visser devastated, unsure if Zoey had been stolen or had simply escaped.

Screenshot from Rekord website

“For seven years, there was absolutely nothing. I even stopped thinking about her,” Visser told Rekord.

Tshwane SPCA Centurion received a very scared black Labrador on January 17, who growled at staff when approached.

It took six days before staff were able to get close enough to check for a microchip, and were surprised when they found a match to a missing dog.

Finally, on Wednesday, January 24, Visser got the surprise call.

“The SPCA told me that she wouldn’t allow anyone to come close to her, she was growling and barking,” said Visser.

“When I got there she came and sat between my legs immediately, and it’s been whining and following me ever since.

She is my shadow.”

Visser said that her first reaction was disbelief and that she has still not recovered from the shock.

“When I got home, I was shaking and crying. I still can’t believe it, when I am at work I constantly think about if she is still home, if she is safe.

It is all still new to her. She has been fine with the other dogs, she has been fine with the cat. We went for a walk yesterday, I gave her a nice bath.”

Visser said that her heart breaks every time she has to leave Zoey.

“When she sees me, she just starts whining. She probably thinks I’m going to leave her again,” she said.

Visser said that she never expected that the microchip would work.

“I’ve always had my pets microchipped, and I have read stories about pets being reunited with their families, but I never thought it would be me,” she said.

“One of my previous cats went missing. I got tracker dogs, spending thousands on searching, and we found nothing. So this was the last thing I expected.”

The article on a printed Rekord copy that is delivered free to our doors every Wednesday

Tshwane SPCA Centurion urge pet owners to get their pets chipped

Guenevere Mynhardt, Tshwane SPCA Centurion operations manager, said that the staff were just as shocked to find out Zoey had been missing for so long.

“When [Visser] got here we asked to see a picture as proof of ownership of the dog, she only had pictures of Zoey as a puppy.

That’s where we heard she last saw her dog seven years ago.

The whole SPCA was shocked,” said Mynhardt.

“This story and situation made me love my job all over again. It was worth trying everything humanly possible to gain a dog’s trust for this miracle to happen.”

Mynhardt urged all pet owners to get their pets microchipped.

The SPCA gets many animals every day, with many strays turning out to belong to loving families once they can be located through their microchips.

She said that dog collars can easily be lost or taken off.

The article on a printed Rekord copy that is delivered free to our doors every Wednesday

Reference

https://www.citizen.co.za/rekord/news-headlines/2024/01/26/missing-dog-reunited-with-owner-after-seven-years/

Chú chó đoàn tụ với chủ sau bảy năm mất tích

Zoey, một con Labrador đen mất tích vào năm 2017, đã được đoàn tụ với chủ nhân của mình và hạnh phúc trở về nhà với gia đình.

Emma Visser nói rằng cô vẫn còn sốc, vì cô đã an lòng chấp nhận việc không bao giờ gặp lại Zoey nữa.

Sự biến mất của Zoey vào năm 2017 khiến Visser đau khổ vật vã, không chắc liệu Zoey đã bị đánh cắp hay chỉ đơn giản là trốn thoát.

"Trong bảy năm, không hề có tin tức gì. Tôi thậm chí ngừng nghĩ về nó", Visser nói với Rekord.

Tshwane SPCA Centurion đã nhận được một con Labrador đen rất sợ hãi vào ngày 17 tháng 1, nó gầm gừ với nhân viên khi họ đến gần nó.

Phải mất sáu ngày trước khi nhân viên có thể đến gần nó để kiểm tra vi mạch và họ rất ngạc nhiên khi tìm thấy kết quả trùng khớp với một con chó mất tích.

Cuối cùng, vào thứ Tư, ngày 24 tháng Giêng, Visser nhận được cuộc gọi bất ngờ.

"SPCA nói với tôi rằng cô ấy sẽ không cho phép bất cứ ai đến gần cô ấy, cô ấy đang gầm gừ và sủa vang," Visser nói.

"Khi tôi đến đó, cô ấy đến và ngồi giữa hai chân tôi ngay lập tức, và nó rên rỉ và đi theo tôi kể từ đó.

"Nó với tôi như hình với bóng."

Visser nói rằng phản ứng đầu tiên của cô là không tin và cô vẫn chưa hồi phục sau cú sốc.

"Khi về đến nhà, tôi run rẩy và khóc. Tôi vẫn không thể tin được, khi tôi làm việc, tôi liên tục nghĩ liệu nó có còn ở nhà không và có an toàn không.

Tất cả vẫn còn mới mẻ đối với nó. Nó đã ổn với những con chó khác, nó đã ổn với con mèo. Hôm qua chúng ta đi dạo, rồi tôi tắm cho nó."

Visser nói rằng cô rất đau lòng mỗi khi phải để Zoey ở nhà.

"Khi nó nhìn thấy tôi, nó chỉ bắt đầu rên rỉ. Có lẽ nó nghĩ rằng tôi sẽ rời bỏ nó một lần nữa", cô nói.

Visser nói rằng cô không bao giờ mong đợi rằng vi mạch sẽ hoạt động.

"Tôi luôn gắn vi mạch thú cưng của mình và tôi đã đọc những câu chuyện về thú cưng được đoàn tụ với gia đình của chúng, nhưng tôi chưa bao giờ nghĩ đó sẽ là tôi", cô nói.

"Một trong những con mèo trước đây của tôi đã mất tích. Tôi truy tìm dấu vết rất nhiều, chi hàng ngàn Rand để tìm kiếm và chúng tôi không tìm thấy gì. Vì vậy, đây là điều cuối cùng tôi mong đợi".

Tshwane SPCA chi nhánh Centurion kêu gọi chủ sở hữu vật nuôi đi gắn vi mạch cho thú cưng.

Guenevere Mynhardt, giám đốc điều hành Tshwane SPCA chi nhánh Centurion, nói rằng các nhân viên cũng bị sốc khi biết Zoey đã mất tích quá lâu.

"Khi [Visser] đến đây, chúng tôi yêu cầu xem một bức ảnh làm bằng chứng về quyền sở hữu, cô ấy chỉ có hình ảnh của Zoey khi nó là cún con.

Đó là nơi chúng tôi nghe nói lần cuối cùng cô ấy nhìn con chó mình bảy năm trước.

Toàn bộ SPCA đã bị sốc", Mynhardt nói.

"Câu chuyện và tình huống này khiến tôi một lần nữa yêu công việc của mình. Thật đáng cố gắng mọi thứ có thể một cách nhân đạo để tạo lòng tin cho một con chó để rồi phép màu này xảy ra.

Mynhardt kêu gọi tất cả các chủ sở hữu vật nuôi gắn vi mạch cho thú cưng của mình.

SPCA nhận được nhiều thú cưng mỗi ngày, nhiều con đi lạc hóa ra thuộc về các gia đình yêu thương một khi chúng có thể được định vị nhờ vi mạch.

Cô nói rằng vòng cổ chó có thể dễ dàng bị mất hoặc cởi ra.

Nothing is Impossible Till It's done

 Last week I watched the documentary 14 Peaks: Nothing is Impossible on Netflix. It is so inspiring and leaves me in awe and contemplation at the same time.

The Nepali-born boy, Nims, broke the record of conquering the 14 peaks of the world. Among the 14 peaks, K2 is the most dangerous. More than 100 extreme mountain climbers call it a resting place. He says, 'Whether you are white or black, there is only one rule.' Listening to that, I know exactly what he will say next. Can you guess what he says next?

Nims completes, 'If you give up, you fail'. Yes. A million yes. If you give up, you fail. Remember that.

Facing hardship, he is adamant that he will die tomorrow, but he isn't going to die today. That giving up is not in his blood.

When suffering from calamity, he questions himself. Why do I have to do this?  I do too. I think it is normal to question ourselves when things do not go well as expected, and we even want to give up. After all, we are all human beings!

I question myself too when I feel like I can’t endure pain in my mountain bike training. My heart rate skyrockets; my legs are shaking and they refuse to listen to me; I’m huffing and puffing on the way up to the hill. I think I will die! I’m doubtful about what I’m doing: Why do I have to do this? Isn’t better to stay home, sink into my puff leather couch, nibble on popcorn and watch Netflix? Then I cry and feel sorry for myself. However, later on, when I can cycle up and up and up to the peak of Swarberg Pass in Prince Albert, I see that my hard work and endurance pay off. I marvel at the open and vast vista of Prince Abert mountains in gratification. I’m grateful to be on top of the mountain. I’m grateful that my husband was tough on me so that I could cycle with him and his friends, see interesting people and eye on beautiful places which a uni degree and Master’s degree I have earned never provide me with.

For those who have been up to the summit of Prince Albert Pass, they surely know how challenging it is to be there, in a 4x4, let alone on a bike. Some asked me, ‘Are you mad?’ when I told them I cycled there. I think I’m! 

Have a look at Prince Albert Pass in the video below.

Swartberg Pass. Photo taken in 2019

Me at Teeberg, a popular rest stop for tee, in 2019. At that time, this was the highest point in Prince Albert Pass that I could cycle up to.
It is blanketed with snow in winter.
Tee is an Afrikaans word for tea.

To cut the story short, it is the doing that counts. Just do it. Just do it.

When you feel like the devil of 'giving up' starts to eat you, you just try a bit more, just a bit more. Then you will get to where you aim for. You are much stronger than you think!

Nothing is impossible till it’s done. The former president of South Africa, Nelson Mandela, also followed this mantra. He said: 'It always seems impossible until it’s done.'

If you need an activator to push you further to do the things you need to do and overcome your inertia, Apha is the one. Check it out here https://karoo.world/alpha/

Me at the summit of Prince Albert Pass in 2021.
After two years of training, I could be able to climb up to the top on my bike.

Cycling up to the peak is time-consuming and labour-intensive. It is not a doddle. However, once I'm on the top, I realise cycling down is a real problem. Gravity pulls me down fast. I'm descending like a rocket, without paddling.
My husband advised me, 'If you feel you can't go on, you must stop and rest. I want you to go home in one piece. No helicopter can come here to rescue you.' Oh dear! I didn't stop to rest at all. I was so glad that I went home in one piece, with no broken limbs.

Here are my two cycling companions at one hairpin of the pass.
I spotted eight different kinds of Protea along the pass on the way up. I told myself I would stop on the way down for Protea photos, but I didn't because it was not easy due to the monster named Gravity. I regret missing this opportunity.

Luckily, I managed to take a photo of one kind of Protea on the way up,
almost at the peak of the pass.
Please don't ask me the name of this pink Protea! ^^

P.S. 14 Peaks: Nothing is Impossible is a must-watch documentary for you!

Previous post: https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2023/05/a-tale-for-mothers-day-5-five-roses.html

A Tale for Mother's Day: 5 Five Roses Roses - a Perfect 5

For Mother's Day, ouma Nel received 5 Five Roses roses from her daughter's garden.

Ouma Nel told me Five Roses is her favourite rose. She was over the moon when I feasted my eyes on her Five Roses. And she watched me taking many photos of her roses, in great joy and happiness. I was not happy with the photos I attempted to take. This position was not right and that position was not right either, so I was darting around her only table in her cosy but neat and tidy room till I had the proper shots I wished for. Watching me hopping around like a Jack-in-the-box, she just smiled.

The daughter's messages are clear. You are a gorgeous mom. I love you so much.

She recalled that she had a garden full of Five Roses. Her gardener once asked her for some roses to give to his girlfriend for Valentine's Day. She generously said yes and added, 'I will cut them by myself for you.' Now when she is staying in an old age home, her daughter inherits and looks after her property with the beautiful garden. The roses she used to train and care for become a distant memory. But she always remembers her garden and her Five Roses.

Their blooms are so big and heavy for their slender stems to keep them upright. As a result, they head down like a dancing lady in red, who is bowing thanks to her umpteen audience who has given her a thundering ovation. Five Roses has a bright red hue which is darker than my blood, but brighter than my I'm Not Really A Waitress nail polish. Plus, their pleasantly sweet aroma is the icing on the cake. I can't stop breathing in the unique perfume of this rose lady.

Surprisingly, Five Roses is also a brand name of a famous South African tea brand. Five here refers to the elegant Five Roses as illustrated on the package and five tea masters who blend Five Roses tea as well.

Five Roses is showing its beauty with other flowers.

5 Five Roses roses: a perfect five!

When it comes to roses, what is your favourite rose? Classic French rose? David Austin rose? Durban July?

White Iceberg Rose in my brother-in-law's garden

Mine is Iceberg Rose. Whether they are white, pink, or burgundy, I love them all. However, the white sings to my soul best.

Iceberg rose is considered a tough cookie because it can withstand all kinds of weather - hot or cold. That's why gardeners and rose enthusiasts are nuts about it.

Note: ouma is an Afrikaans word for grandma.

Latest post: https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2023/06/nothing-is-impossible-till-its-done.html

Letter to the Mzansi People

 

Dear fellow South Africans,

We all know that South Africa has many challenges; from crime and corruption to electricity power outages and bickering politicians. Does that seem familiar wherever you live? Maybe these are all just humans behaving badly wherever they are…

You may be tired of listening to those same old stories. However, allow me to tell you the stories I have experienced living here.

White Jacaranda blooms are trying hard to stand out from the electric fence in Herbert Baker Street in Groenkloof, Pretoria
Jacaranda season in October, 2019

I have lost count of how many times we are almost driven over by reckless drivers while on our bikes. People do not stop at the stopstreets and the traffic lights as they are supposed to. People cut us off at the corner. People are on their phones while driving. My husband, Colin, goes berserk when he sees people turning the steering wheel with one hand and holding their phone with the other hand at the traffic light. When he questions why people risk their life like that, they point a dirty finger at him or their face turns red with the eyes of a hungry wolf. People in Vietnam even use their phones when they ride their scooters or motorbikes, let alone people here sitting comfortably in a 'matchbox with four wheels’. The abnormal becomes normal. It is so threatening to think about it.

Once we were waiting for our turn at the robot¹, we saw a white man waiting in his bakkie on the other side of the robot tossing his cool drink tin out of his window. My husband spoke loud enough to get his attention, asked him why he did that. He shrugged his shoulders, swung his arms in the air, and said, 'This is South Africa'. I couldn't believe what I heard. He chose to be part of the problem rather than be part of the solution. This is why South Africa is what she is now. The roadsides are scattered with rubbish like beer bottles and plastic bags. Even the rivers are filled with solid and other garbage. There’s a team of people with a lady in charge who keep cleaning the Hennops river, begging for money, but rubbish keeps coming back. The problem is too big and starts all along the river.

I see people of all races in South Africa littering and dumping when I cycle. Vietnamese people also do so. This is a shocking similarity I notice between Vietnam and South Africa. But no one dares to litter in Singapore. You know why! The law is strict and enforced, and people are respectful. They want their place to be clean and neat. In the end, whatever colour our skin is – black, brown, yellow or white, we behave more or less the same in some way.

On our cycling route to Pretoria West one day, we were stopped by police patrol officers. They warned us not to go further that way because the tsotsis² were still there hiding in the bush and waiting for cyclists like us. We were thankful for their warning and care and took another route which was safer. I must say we have been very lucky not to be stabbed or held at gun-point and robbed of our bikes and mobile phones up till now, so I do not have a chance to showcase my Vovinam (a Vietnamese martial art style with high-kicking techniques) yet. Once I kick, I kick so hard their mama in the grave will hear them screaming.

Vovinam, a Vietnamese martial art style with high-kicking techniques
Photo credit to AFP/Hoang Dinh Nam

On my rides to every nook and cranny of South Africa, I see private homes and residential areas isolated by big and tall walls with layers of razor fencing, surveillance cameras and guard booths. However, the incidents of break-ins are still as numerous as the piles of rubbish I see on the roads every day. Imagine how much money is spent to secure ourselves, I can only cry. With that money, people can invest in their children’s education or even pamper themselves with exotic holiday tours to Vietnam or Thailand — things they enjoy rather than forget.

That said, I still witness beautifully inspiring stories which keep me going.

My 87-year-old neighbour, Mrs Ollie, is an example. She has been so gracious to me. She loves having me over for tea, for which she will dress smartly, do her hair, and paint her nails. Whenever I visit her for tea, we chat about her flowers, her youth, she wonders what the future of South Africa will be. She won’t be here to see the changes – the so-called positive changes she so hopes for. She never complains but does the best she can. She lives on a pension, so she implements a very strict frugal life. She does the household chores herself, room by room because the house is large. When her two big JoJo water tanks that catch rainwater run dry, she watches her plants and flowers wither and desperately waits for the rain. She manages not to spend money as much as she can. Her money is meagre, but her Ubuntu³ spirit knows no bound. She makes sandwiches with peanut butter for the ‘trolley boy’⁴ every Wednesday. She told me that there are so many people who are in need, but she is able to help one person. She dresses smartly whenever she goes out for groceries, no matter if the clothes were bought many years ago. At the age of 87, her mind is still sharp thanks to her avid reading, listening to the radio and tending her garden. What intrigues me is that she still wears high heels whenever she goes out in her little white car. She loves high heels which must have a pointed nose. ‘I’m confident and feel good when I wear high heels’, she winks at me. She is a heroine for me, and my model for aging yet still looking good. Charlize Theron who now may forget how Mieliepap tastes, is not mine, for sure.

The trolley is more than half full after the trolley boy spends an hour from bin to bin digging and looking for recyclable items, in my neighbourhood.

On one occasion, on one of our normal cycling routes, close to where one of the interminable sinkholes appeared, where a row of lampposts was knocked down for copper wire, and a grove of big old gum trees⁵ was chopped down, we saw an elderly man picking up garbage along the roadside and on the grass verge. We stopped to chat, as we often do when we see people along our path. Colin said that it was unusual to see people picking up garbage rather than tossing it down. He said his friends and he had planted these saplings along the road — pointing to a row of young wild olive trees — and they were trying to beautify the area. He said that people litter less if an area is clean and neat, while once there is some litter it seems to encourage people to litter. He is right, of course. It is similar to the ‘New York broken window campaign’. Before we left him, he pointed out the row of young wild olive trees, saying they replace the high-water-use gum trees. He said he does what he can to keep his community clean and green. It is unhelpful to sit and moan and groan about a broken South Africa, he stated, if we do nothing.

Mrs Ollie and me on her 87th birthday

I still have a lot of stories – good, bad and even ugly – to tell you. But I should stop here with a sweet note.

For those who leave South Africa for what they imagine is a better life, they leave with sorrow, chanting, ‘I cry for you, my beloved South Africa!’. I wish you luck and peace wherever you find yourself.

For those who choose to stay, let us stay to make South Africa a better place. Stay for a purpose bigger than yourself. We can each make a positive difference by doing the right things and getting things done properly. The future of South Africa is in our hands — in our behaviours.

We must keep pushing and make a change for our beautiful South Africa. To do so, we need a recipe, and I suggest that the Alpha Programme is such a way!

So, I would like to invite you to receive the Alpha Weekly Note.

A screenshot of Alpha Weekly Note Subscription on the Karoo website

You can subscribe here.

There is never a better time than now!

Mai, the Vietnamese girl who calls South Africa home

Notes for those who are non-South-African:

Mzansi: an informal name for South Africa

1. Tsotsi is a South African English word for a young black gangster (pronounced as /ˈtsɔtsi/).

2. Robot means traffic light in South Africa

3. Ubuntu is an African word which means humanity to others. It is translated as ‘I am what I am because of who we all are'.

4. Trolley boy is an informal word for a waste picker. To my modest observations, waste pickers in South Africa are from other African countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and Malawi. They are all male and young. I have seen very few female waste pickers. If I see them, they always have a child with them.  Unlike South Africa, waste pickers in Vietnam are the disabled and elderly who are refused to be employed and are too old to work, respectively.

5. Gum tree is known as eucalyptus tree in South Africa and Australia. Gum trees were imported to South Africa from Australia around 1870.

Related posts about South Africa:

https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2023/06/nothing-is-impossible-till-its-done.html

https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2023/05/a-tale-for-mothers-day-5-five-roses.html

The big fig farm in a semi-desert in South Africa

Did you know that Sir Ernest Shackleton, a famous polar explorer, packed dried figs for his exploration trip to Antarctica?

Figs are one of the oldest fruits in the world. They are rich in copper and vitamin B6.

'Fresh figs contain some calories from natural sugar, but having a few figs is a reasonable, low-calorie snack or addition to a meal.

On the other hand, dried figs are high in sugar and rich in calories, as the sugar becomes concentrated when the fruits are dried.' 

For more information about the nutritional values of figs, read here

In South Africa, figs are used to make jam, for drying and eating fresh. They are in season from the end of January to the end of April.

There are more than 1000 varieties of figs around the world.
We picked this variety of figs at an empty stand of land when we cycled. 

Set back from serene Prince Albert town in the Western Cape Province, about 25km, is Weltevrede Fig Farm.

It was established in 1853, and is one of the big fig farms in South Africa. 

The farm mainly plants Adam figs, which lend themselves to drying and eating fresh. They have purple skin and dark red flesh. However, they don't travel well.

They sell fresh figs to Woolworths stores nationwide and export fresh figs to the UK and other European countries.

What fascinates me is that once I'm at Weltevrede, I can eat fresh figs at a much cheaper price and see how they are grown and hand-picked behind the shelves.

They offer a wide range of fig products, from fresh figs and all kinds of dried figs to beauty products from figs. Plus home decor products and things for the kitchen.

When I went to visit Weltevrede in 2019, I was amazed by the size and greenness of the fig farm among the rocks—rocks of all shapes and sizes. They have about 2000 trees which are amazingly lush and surrounded by a range of mountains in a hidden place like a desert. But rows and rows of figs grow and thrive thanks to the water at the foot of the mountain. 

Tourists from all over the world come here to see figs with their own eyes and, most pleasantly, to have a bite of fresh figs.  And, of course, they won't miss out on a love-at-first-bite delight of the farm—crispy and creamy fig tarts. I promise you that you will not be able to find such tasty fig tarts in high-end restaurants in Cape Town and the surroundings—flocked with tourists with lots of bling-bling such as diamond rings and proudly branded clothes, expensive watches and flashy shoes.

Most of the tourists are from Europe. They are seemingly searching for African pure fashion.

At the till lies a thick memory book. Before putting my notes in it, I browsed from page to page to see what people wrote and to scrutinise others' handwriting which I believe is more artful than my child-like one, one note with a slender handwriting style caught my eye. It said ‘We don’t want to take figs home. We want to eat them right here.’ This note speaks perfectly for Weltevrede.

When we were there, they were busy building accommodations for tourists to sleep over. It would be a wonderful hideaway for people who want to stay away from the hubbub of the city for a while. It must have serviced tourists by now.

After being content with our walk around the farm, I bought 10kg of fresh Adam figs to make fig preserve. Each of us bought 02 kgs of dried figs to take home. We couldn't resist the sweetness of dried figs after having a taste.

Now allow me to take you on a visual tour of this beautiful fig farm.

I hope you can visit Weltevrede in the years to come.

Trays of figs - peeled and unpeeled - welcome the sunlight

Peeled sun-dried figs in the sun

Peeled sun-dried figs shrink after receiving some sweet kisses from the Karoo sun

Yum Yum! Sweet and chewy

The shop is presented in an attractive way

This 'puppy' is even bigger than I am. He wasn't a good guard dog because he kept snoozing.

Beside rows of fig trees, the farm is adorned with pomegranates and quinces, which are not for sale.

Quinces are as hard as rock. They are used in baking and to make jam.
This was the first time I had seen quinces.

I was posing for visual memories by beautiful pomegranates

Updated in Feb 2024:

For the love of figs and Prince Albert town, we went to visit Weltevrede Fig Farm again in April 2021. But this time we cycled to the fig farm from Prince Albert town which is about 25km away. Hopefully, the photos I took below will give you a glimpse of this charming place. 

The cattle bridge on the way to the fig farm.
We have 07 km from here to our fascinating destination.

The winding gravel road to town from the cattle bridge

7km more to pedal

7km to go to the fig farm from the sign shown above

My 'iron man' stopped to check his 'iron horse', so I killed my time by taking photos of the magnificent view.
All you can see is rock, pebbles and pale green flora.

Dried figs that are peeled and cut in half are being dried in the sun.
They look like rose petals.

The iconic product at the farm shop: cushions for sofas or beds.

Vibrant flowers that can withstand the heat and lack of water in the semi-desert region.
There is this kind of flower, gomphrena ('hoa cúc nút áo' in Vietnamese) in Vietnam too, so seeing them is like I'm in Vietnam now.

Fig tart, a love-at-first-bite delight of the farm, is served with a dollop of cream.
The crust is crispy and not easy to crack with a cake fork, but the filling is lightly sweet and juicy and, of course, infilled with fig flavours.
The fig tart which my 'iron man' and I shared was a reward for our cycling after a lot of sweat, huffing and puffing, and fun.

This time, as the previous time, we ordered 10kg of fresh figs to make fig preserve. We couldn't carry them on our bike, so the farm manager delivered them to the Lazy Lizard eatery and shop in town, where we ate breakfast, the next morning. We just drove to the Lazy Lizard to collect our figs. Then we asked our lady at our B&B if we could store them in her fridge. She was happy to say yes. 

Daisies at the Lazy Lizard eatery and shop

By the time we got home in Pretoria, about 2kg of figs got rotten. They could not stand the long road trip in the heat, with a one-night sleepover at Gariep Dam. We had to throw them in the compost. For 8kg that was still in good shape and taste, I made fig preserve. Everyone who I shared it with died for it. 

Here is the website of Weltevrede Fig Farm for you to browse around before you set foot in: https://www.figfarm.co.za/

That's it for this season of figs.

See you next time.

Mai from Vietnam

P.S. The next day, we cycled to Swartberg Pass, a must-see destination in Prince Albert. Check out Prince Albert Pass at https://travelmai.blogspot.com/2023/06/nothing-is-impossible-till-its-done.html 

Swartberg Pass is accessible by 4x4 or bakkie, at best. This is a magnificent road trip to Oudtshoorn, which is renowned for the world capital of ostriches and breathtaking Cango cave.

P.S.S. Browsing through self-catering accommodation offered by Weltevrede Fig Farm, I wish I could spend one night or two there right now. What is more mesmerising than getting up in the morning and being welcomed by the Karoo sun—which is as orange as cara cara oranges, listening to the distant whispering of the mountains and the gentle breathing of figs, eating the Karoo dust when I cycle with my 'iron man'.