Comfort of koesisters kept us together through sorrow, displacement
IN MY neighbourhood, Sunday mornings were reserved for wearing your pyjamas outside, large Tupperware in hand heading up the street with the neighbours’ children, to get the container filled with koesisters for R12.
My koesisters are not to be confused with koeksisters, different spelling, and pronunciation – an entirely different experience.
My koesisters are spiced with whole aniseed, zested sun-dried naartjie peel, ginger powder, cardamom powder and cinnamon powder, they are then deep fried to perfection by the street’s motjie kok – an older auntie in each street whose responsibility it is to feed bellies and on occasion scold the neighbourhood children for mischievous games of tok-tokkie and settel-seet – our version of hide-and-seek.
The scolding happens usually during the time when motjies and pankies across the Cape Flats are watching Days of Our Lives.
As we handed motjie kok our Tupperware containers with R12 on the lid, she would always ask about our week, school and how our parents were as she tossed the koesisters in the simple syrup mixture, ready to be covered in unsweetened desiccated coconut.
Motjie kok always had extra hertzoggies, krapkoekies and anecdotes about why it isn’t wise to be a gossip-monger to share with us.
We would patiently wait for our koesisters to be lovingly handed to us as we answered in a happy chorus of “tramakassie, tietie” until the next time.
The act of eating koesisters for breakfast among the Cape Town population is enormously popular and has been a long-standing tradition that stems back to our communities in areas like Bo-Kaap and District Six – long before the forced removal of “non-Europeans”.
After being exiled to the Cape Flats, the traditions continued and spread, just as it had before – and just as it will spread through the next generation.
Koesisters are not just a breakfast food, however; you will find these aromatic doughnuts at every kind of gathering we host.
You will find them at funerals, parties, religious ceremonies and even graduation ceremonies. Koesisters are always an ideal treat and a gesture of goodwill.
The origin of the koesister, especially in terms of flavour, indicates Indonesian roots,probably from slaves who had been brought to the Cape.
Fragrant spices like cinnamon and coconut which made its way across the ocean from South-East Asia to be enjoyed with a uniquely South African staple: Rooibos tea.
In my family, the history of the koesister seems to be an interesting one. During the apartheid regime, stores were closed on Sundays and non-Europeans were not allowed to frequent bakeries.
Thus the koesister became a common weekend breakfast instead of bread. The choice for everyone to bring their own Tupperware was to ensure no waste; my people reduced, reused and recycled before the campaign ever started. The spiced part of the dough, depending on whom you’re talking to, differs – some might say it is just because it tastes good, and it sure does, but in my family a common story for why we heavily spice our food is due to poverty. Spice is and always has been cheaper than a new fridge or chicken. The matejale (spices) acts as a natural preservative to ensure we are able to truly get our money’s worth and our tummies’ fill. My people were using “technology”, long before the invention of the modern conveniences we enjoy today.
If you were to ask Cape Malay grannies and motjie koks throughout Cape Town why it is called a koesister – stories may differ, our history is mainly an oral one. I grew up learning that koesisters were called koesisters because of the community of former slaves in Bo-Kaap who often cooked and baked together.
They were made and sold by motjie koks in kitchens throughout Bo-Kaap who gleefully cooked and laughed happily together, forgetting their trials and sorrows for a moment. They were sisters over cups of tea, recipe exchanges and koesisters.
Apart from the smell of baked goods wafting from the motjie koks’ kitchens’ in Mitchells Plain, Athlone and Bo-Kaap – there is a sense of history and sophistication behind South African cuisine.
There are stories, laughter and a sense of pride behind our cuisine – an entire culture, rich with etiquette and customs that has not been known to many outside of the pockets of displaced individuals across the Cape Flats.
Through sorrow, displacement and misfortune, there is an air of resilience among us and a lot of koesisters to keep us going. Some may argue that the koesister has helped us through the best and the worst of times throughout our history.
My koesister can only be described as a connection, a love language and a community. My koesisters can be described, to me, as my idea of Cape Malay heritage and Cape Town.
Dirks is a writer and activist who works as a communications and advocacy intern at Nalane for Reproductive Justice. She is also pursuing a triple-major (communication science, media Studies & public relations) BTech degree at CPUT