Potjiekos Perfect: Pot Food for the Soul

An array of potjies 

Potjiekos (literally, "pot food") My husband's potjie was considered to be as good as a poem by one of the winners of the Hertzog Prize for Poetry. In fact, he was specifically flagged down on the dirt road near River Still in the Groot Marico by said poet, and congratulated as to his creation of that particular food poem which had been distributed to the volunteers and performers of the annual Herman Charles Bosman Literary Festival in the Groot Marico. I can think of no greater testament to his culinary skill than this particular compliment.

That particular year in the Marico bosveld, he and Dave gathered in the rain, which fell benevolently on the festival after a long drought, and warding off the cold with copious applications of red wine, saw to it that a poetic potjie was produced. However, that self-same poem was duly appropriated by the money-mongers, and Dave and Fem, replete with happiness, stood back and were allowing it to be carried off and sold to the festival-goers instead of ensuring that it fed the workers. Fortunately, I happened upon the scene as it unfolded, stopped the would-be but unwitting thieves dead in their tracks and then supervised the carrying in of the potjie (our entrance fee to the festival) to the place where the festival workers congregated for their food.

Making potjie in the rain  

I also then duly took on the office of dispensor of goods and organiser of lines - a managing personality is of great benefit on occasion, particularly those where people start milling around like cattle near a cattle-dip, unwilling to make the first move. In my younger and more vulnerable years, I used to worry about taking over events lest it be seen as bossing everyone around, as I have grown older and wiser, I realise we may as well play to our strengths. I always remember Elsa, when I was hesitant to take over running the South African day for the Dhahran Women's Group phoning me up and saying, "You are the President, and we are very proud as South Africans about what you are doing at the Women's Group, even though many of us are not members. But in this, we are expecting you to lead - Tell us what to do". So much for all my training in truly democratic processes.

When it came time to baptise our daughter Bethany, we had a problem regarding venue which swiftly resolved itself as soon as we (OK, I) really thought about it (my husband expects me to plan, as I said, it's a strength if all are happy that's what I do). I always loved Beth of Little Women (and cried and cried a full day when she died, going back and re-reading the affecting death scene and then crying some more). So when I came across the name Bethany when pregnant with Faran, it just resonated, since I loved Beth so much, that I figured any girl-child of mine should be able to have the nickname Beth. I thought I'd love a darling little piano-playing girl, though clearly I am not wishing anything else upon her head.

Furthermore, when our friends, Hadeel and Ammar (from whom I learnt khiar mahshi), organised a trip to Jordan for us they included, without my realising it, a trip to Bethany-Beyond-the-Jordan, which was staggeringly serendipitous given that I was pregnant with Bethany at the time. Here is a picture of me and the boys on the nearby river Jordan:

Bethany at Bethany

Since a river ran through Bethany, and since two of her godparents are Santa and Egbert, community development workers at the Groot Marico, it seemed only right and proper that her baptism should take place on the Marico River itself, and Jacques of River Still kindly allowed us the use of his particular pristine piece of river for the event:

Banks of Groot Marico River, River Still

We had a wonderful weekend of it, importing friends and family into the Marico to join in our the festivities. First up was the making of the potjie by my dear husband, helped by the boys:

Bubble, bubble ...

Next, we had a drumming session and the music and we all started moving towards the river.

Always love a hang, never mind the other instruments 

The baptism took place on the river, at sunset:

Bethany figured she should blow out the candle 

After which my daughter had fun with the dog, but I'm not so sure how the dog felt about it:

Bethany and Dog

Finally, the real festivities begin:

After dusk, as the cold began to bite, we warmed ourselves with each other's company and copious amounts of wonderful red wine. Good food, good wine, good company - what more could one wish for in life?