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| 15-21 October 2013 | thesouthafrican.com
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South African food evenings at Cape Grand Cafe and Restaurant
| Cape Grand Cafe and Restaurant in Beaconsfield will host two South African food evenings this autumn. The mouth watering menu includes bobotie, smoked snoek samoosas with homemade chutney, Cape Malay chicken curry, fish and rice potjie and lamb bredie. CAPE Grand Cafe and Restaurant in Beaconsfield will hold a South African food evening on the last Thursday of the month during October and November 2013 from 7pm. It costs £30.00 per person and includes a bottle of Kudu Plains House red or white wine to share per table of two.
Dates: 31 October and 28 November The Cape Grand Cafe Beaconsfield HP9 1NN
MENU Starter sharing boards South African farm sausage, soft polenta, tomato and onion in a mini roll
Tomato bredie, cubed lamb cooked in a tomato & red wine sauce Sides
Smoked snoek samosas with homemade chutney
Caramelised carrots, butternut & sweet potato flavoured with cinnamon
Mains from the buffet
Yellow rice and raisins
Lamb bobotie
Dessert Bar
Vegetarian bobotie
Hot Malva pudding with whipped cream
Cape Malay chicken curry Fish and rice potjie served from the black pot
Koeksisters dipped in a chocolate sauce Cape brandy tart & honeycomb ice cream
Book on 01494681137
The OPTIMIST
KAREN DE VILLIERS
The Cape Doctor or doctors?
| One powerful gust of wind sweeps mum up like a dried leaf and tosses her down like a rejected lover. RETURNING to South Africa is never a holiday. It is an emotional, demanding, rushed exercise in loving and leaving. Add the guilt of not having time to re-connect with absolutely everyone you think you should – dating back to your preprimary days and I am a total mess of hellos and goodbyes at International Departures. However, mum is the priority. Eight-seven and frail, like my little Edith Piaf, I decided to fly her from her room at the ‘Assisted living’ facility to Cape Town. Assisted is everything with Mom now: Assisted passenger, assisted caring, you get the idea. I thought that getting her out there would
give her, just for a little while, some sparkles of life – ignite an enthusiasm that would relate to stories told to her co-assisted friends back home. Travelling with my mum is slow; we shuffle together. I can curl her under my arm, tightly against my heart and then we sit. Just watch the world go by. We have time to talk about her life before we both forget the young girl she was. ’Tis good, all good. Until the furies, or Dr. Cape Doctor decided to change it all. A quick trip for coffee to Canal Walk. Health and safety be damned and I guess I should have seen the signs. This is not a place for the elderly or handicapped or disadvantaged in anyway. This is for Titans and Olympic medallists. The distance from the car park to the entrance of the Mall must be further than the end of the rainbow – it is ridiculous! Cautiously I stop the hired car as close to the entrance as possible. Mother must alight and hang onto one of the bollards so I can park the car and hurry back. Not soon enough. One powerful gust of wind sweeps mum up like a dried
leaf and tosses her down like a rejected lover. There is blood, skin like paper. As I try to lift her and put her back in the car, I can see the grimace but not a word of complaint. Not once in the next two days as she is hospitalized with a fractured pelvis. Our little trip becomes a scene of doctors, nurses and filling in forms. I feel as guilty as Macbeth on a bad day, but Mom, not a word of complaint. My heroine. Ultimately, my reason for relaying this little story this week, is to tell you two things: One, living so far from one’s elderly parents in another country is laden with guilt and promises. Secondly, and more importantly, is to tell you that the service and professionalism we received from the Medical Staff and more importantly, from Kulula Airlines in getting her back home was beyond anything I expected. I bow down to kind and wonderful people. Together these individuals made my mother feel safe and offered me tissues. Till home, she was never alone, or made to feel anything but special. I love you all.