My Diwali memories - Sacha van Niekerk

DIWALI is a special time of the year for my family and I. Although we’re living through a pandemic, I don’t think that will change the significance or the excitement of what this day means to us.

My earliest memories of celebrating Diwali take place at my Nani’s house. Before leaving home, my sisters and I would make cotton wool into wicks by soaking pieces in oil and rolling them between our hands for lighting diyas. We’d decorate the outside of our home, setting the little lamps all around the garden. My dad would pack the car with boxes of sparklers and fireworks that would later light up the sky with the most tremendous display of colour.

Dressed in new outfits, each child would carry a tray of sweetmeats on their laps, eyeing the beautifully packed sweetmeats that we had the day off from school to prepare. Our usual bakes were home-made burfee that my younger sister and I would mix by hand, syrup soaked gulab jamun and my mom’s specialty, baklava, a traditional Greek dessert with a look and flavour that fit perfectly among the other goodies.

When I was in primary school, I’d hold the hand of my Nani as we crossed the road to the neighbours’ houses to deliver parcels. Everyone would be out in the street, walking from door to door to drop off packages. Every year, our huge family of cousins, aunts and uncles would get together despite the year end stress and school exams, and we’d make the day about being together, watching the fireworks and eating until we had to loosen the drawstrings of our pants or skirts.

Scattered across the country for university and work, this year, we won’t all be able to be together. Although it may take a Zoom call, FaceTime sessions and couriering sweetmeats to Cape Town from Durban to bring the celebrations to family, it’s going to be a wonderful celebration of its own kind.

Every year, our huge family of cousins, aunts and uncles would get together and make the day about being together

Sacha van Niekerk